.

"Marry, truly," said Nell, catching at the cue, "--asleep, Sire, sound
asleep; and our prayers said."

"Tilly-vally," exclaimed the King, "we might credit thy tongue, wench,
but for the prayers. No digressions, spider Nell. My sword is in a
fighting mood. 'Sdeath, call forth the knight-errant who holds thy
errant heart secure for one short hour!"

"The knight of my heart!" cried Nell. "Ah, Sire, you know his name."

She looked at his Majesty with eyes of unfailing love; but the King was
true to his jest.

"Yea, marry, I do," laughed Charles, tauntingly, with a wink at his
companions; "a pretty piece of heraldry, a bold escutcheon, a dainty
poniard--pale as a lily, and how he did sigh and drop his lids and smirk
and smirk and dance your latest galliard to surpass De Grammont. Ask
brother James how he did dance."

"Nay, Sire," hastily interceded the ever-gallant Rochester, "his
Highness of York has suffered enough."

York frowned at the reference; for he had been robbed of his lady at the
dance by Adair. He could not forget that. Heedless of his royalty,
bestowed by man, she, like the others, had followed in the train of the
Irish spark, who was royal only by nature.

"Hang the coxcomb!" he snarled.

"'Slife, I will," replied Charles, slyly, "an you overtake him,
brother."

"His back was shapely, Sire," observed Rochester, with quaint humour.

"Yea, and his heels!" cried the King, reflectively. "He had such dainty
heels--Mercury's wings attached, to waft him on his way."

"This is moonshine madness!" exclaimed Nell, with the blandest of bland
smiles. "There's none such here. By my troth, I would there were. Nay,
ask Moll."

Moll did not wait to be asked.

"Not one visitor to-night," she asserted promptly.

"Odso!" cried Charles, in a mocking tone. "Whence came the Jack at the
window--the brave young challenger--'Would ye raise honest men from
their beds at such an hour?'"

A burst of laughter followed the King's grave imitation of the
window-boaster.

"Sire!" sighed Rochester, in like spirit. "'Do you think this a
vintner's? There are no topers here.'"

Another burst of merry laughter greeted the speaker, as he punctuated
his words by catching up the wine-cups from the table and clinking them
gaily.

Nell's face was as solemn as a funeral.

"To your knees, minx," commanded James, grimly, "and crave mercy of your
prince."

"Faith and troth," pleaded Nell, seriously, "'t was I myself with hel