King, I counted not upon the exigencies of thy love. I
thought only of the pleasure 'twould give thee to have subsidies
without plea, and I have made two of thy favourites my victims. How
should I know that the Duke and Duchess of Ellswold were to become
nestlings in thy cradle of love?" The King's face darkened, but for a
moment only, as the sunshine of full coffers had penetrated the vista
of his needs, and a cloud even though it bore the after-rain was not
to darken his expectations. "I beg thine indulgence to allow me to
presume upon fancy. Supposing Sir John Penwick was alive and had
committed a crime that made it impossible for him to seek the aid of
his beloved King; that the said Sir John has vast possessions in the
New World that rightfully belonged to the English crown as hostage for
his own life, that had been in the hands of the French; that these
matters had been brought to the King's ear, but his Royal Highness had
been troubled with weightier affairs at home, and that one of his very
lowly but loyal subjects had undertaken, without aid of Government,
to secure these possessions for his King, calling to his aid the
generosity of Ellswold, who was willing to give all without knowing
why, save 'twas for his King and--"

"And Penwick has proven guiltless and comes to his King to claim his
rightful possession;--and the subsidies--"

"Are still thine, and thou shalt have them within a fortnight, if thou
wilt grant me one small request, oh! King."

"Thou hast it. Be brief."

"Of my appointment, a new keeper of the Tower." The King started and
half turned from the Duke, while through his mind ran hurriedly the
names of "Chasel, Howard, Baumais" and "who hath he in mind." Then
like a flash came the thought of Lady Constance, and he turned about
quickly and said with severity,--

"Thou hast our word," and with a gesture gave the Duke his _conge_.

That very night just as the early moon began to whiten the Towers of
old London, the key turned in the door of Lady Constance' cell; but
turned so lazily--either from indolence or an unaccustomed hand--that
her ladyship looked up and saw to her surprise a new gaoler. He
smiled, thereby giving to the heart of its object a great thrill of
joy, for it meant kindliness and kindliness is often predicated of
selfishness or a desire for things one has not.

"What is thy name, fool?"

"Just plain Fool," and he gave her due obeisance.

"And why so?"

"Is it not enoug