ands the only thief!" She
pointed accusingly at Portsmouth.

"My signature!" cried Charles, as he ran his eye down a parchment. "The
treaties! No more Parliaments for England. I agreed to that."

"I agree to that myself," said Nell, roguishly. "England's King is too
great to need Parliaments. The King should have a confidential adviser,
however--not French," and she cast a defiant glance at Portsmouth, "but
English. Read on; read on."

She placed her pretty cheek as near as possible to the King's as she
followed the letters over his shoulder.

"A note to Bouillon!" he said, perusing the parchments further. "Charles
consents to the fall of Luxembourg. I did not sign all this. I see it
all: Louis's ambition to rule the world, England's King debased by
promises won and royal contracts made with a clever woman--forgery mixed
with truth. Sweet Heaven, what have I done!"

"The papers have not gone, Sire," blandly remarked Nell.

"Thanks to you, my Nell," said Charles. He addressed Portsmouth sharply:
"Madame, your coach awaits you."

"But, Sire," replied the Duchess, who was brave to the last, "Madame
Gwyn has yet Adair to answer for!"

"Adair will answer for himself!" cried Nell, triumphantly.

She threw aside the pink gown and stood as Adair before the astonished
eyes of all.

"At your service," she said, bowing sweetly to the Duchess.

"A player's trick!" cried Portsmouth, haughtily, as a parting shot of
contempt.

"Yes, Portsmouth," replied Nell, still in sweetest accents, "to show
where lies the true and where the false."

"You are a witch," hissed Portsmouth.

[Illustration: "ONCE MORE YOU HAVE SAVED ME."]
"You are the King's true love," exclaimed the Merry Monarch. "To my
arms, Nell, to my arms; for you first taught me the meaning of true
love! Buckingham, you forget your courtesy. Her grace wishes to be
escorted to her coach."

"_Bon voyage_, madame," said Nell, demurely, as the Duchess took
Buckingham's arm and departed.

The King's eyes fell upon the player, Hart, who was still in custody.

"Away with this wretch!" he cried, incensed at his conduct. "I am not
done with him."

"Forgive him, Sire," interceded Nell. "He took his cue from Heaven, and
good has come of it."

"True, Nell," said the King, mercifully. Then he turned to Hart: "You
are free; but henceforth act the knave only on the stage." Hart bowed
with shame and withdrew.

"Sire, Sire," exclaimed Strings, forgetting his decorum in