h a meaning which even his
triumph could not disguise.--"_Tu me la pagherai!_" he muttered, in a
tone of deep and abiding resentment; but the stout old Irishman, who had
long since braved his utmost wrath, cared little for this expression of
his displeasure.
The King then, signing to the other nobles to pass into the public
apartments, stopped Buckingham as he was about to follow them; and when
they were alone, asked, with a significant tone, which brought all the
blood in the Duke's veins into his countenance, "When was it, George,
that your useful friend Colonel Blood became a musician?--You are
silent," he said; "do not deny the charge, for yonder villain, once
seen, is remembered for ever. Down, down on your knees, George,
and acknowledge that you have abused my easy temper.--Seek for no
apology--none will serve your turn. I saw the man myself, among your
Germans as you call them; and you know what I must needs believe from
such a circumstance."
"Believe that I have been guilty--most guilty, my liege and King," said
the Duke, conscience-stricken, and kneeling down;--"believe that I was
misguided--that I was mad--Believe anything but that I was capable of
harming, or being accessory to harm, your person."
"I do not believe it," said the King; "I think of you, Villiers, as the
companion of my dangers and my exile, and am so far from supposing you
mean worse than you say, that I am convinced you acknowledge more than
ever you meant to attempt."
"By all that is sacred," said the Duke, still kneeling, "had I not
been involved to the extent of life and fortune with the villain
Christian----"
"Nay, if you bring Christian on the stage again," said the King,
smiling, "it is time for me to withdraw. Come, Villiers, rise--I forgive
thee, and only recommend one act of penance--the curse you yourself
bestowed on the dog who bit you--marriage, and retirement to your
country-seat."
The Duke rose abashed, and followed the King into the circle, which
Charles entered, leaning on the shoulder of his repentant peer; to whom
he showed so much countenance, as led the most acute observers present,
to doubt the possibility of there existing any real cause for the
surmises to the Duke's prejudice.
The Countess of Derby had in the meanwhile consulted with the Duke of
Ormond, with the Peverils, and with her other friends; and, by their
unanimous advice, though with considerable difficulty, became satisfied,
that to have thus
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