Half an hour later the Queen and Rupert found the King standing by the sundial; the sun had faded from the heavens, leaving them faintly purple, the trees were intertwining shapes, grey avenues of darkness, the scent of the violets by the dial was rich and strong, the air blew chilly, and in the palace windows the yellow lights were springing up, one by one.

The Queen in her dark careless garments and Rupert in his brilliant bravery alike gloomed up out of the twilight as indistinct shapes.

The King peered at them a little before he knew them.

"John Pym and I will never speak together more," he said abruptly and in a hoarse tone. "When I returned to London it was not with the purpose of winning these men but of punishing them, and to that purpose I adhere."

"Lord Falkland," answered Rupert, "said Your Majesty had promised him to take no violent measures, and to consult him and your new advisers in all your actions."

"Of late I have had to make many promises that are impossible for me to keep," returned Charles gloomily. "If men press on a king they must expect he will use all weapons against them. I shall act without my Lord Falkland's advice. How can he," added the King with a grand air, "or any man, know what I feel towards these men who threaten my sacred crown and God His Holy Church? Who imprison my bishops and take from me—my friends?" his voice broke into sadness. "Truly, as I stood by this dial, I thought it was like an emblem of my life, all the sunny hours numbered and the finger now moving into darkness."

"But to-morrow will see the sun again," cried Rupert, "and so Your Majesty, coming from an eclipse, shall behold a brighter day."

"Alas," answered Charles, "the moon is misty and clouds and rain threaten for to-morrow. But though I am encompassed with many dangers I will not hesitate to bring these traitors to judgment."

"This is what I from the first advised," said the Queen. "When we came from Scotland, and the people were shouting and the city feasting us—then was the moment to strike."

"It is not too late," replied Charles.

"Take care it be not," urged Henriette Marie. "Last autumn half a day's delay ruined my Lord Strafford, so quick was this accursed Pym."

"He shall be avenged," cried the King in great agitation. "This time I will strike first—keep it from my council. The King acts for the King, now. Come in, my dear love, our short winter day is over—I feel it cold."

"A keen wind blows up the river," said the Queen, with a little shudder. "I saw the gulls to-day at Whitehall; that means a stormy winter."

"But so far it hath been sweet as spring," said Rupert, "and there are so many flowerets out, that you might think it Eastertide."

They returned to the palace, and the King had sent for Lord Falkland and was proceeding to his cabinet, when he was met by Lord Winchester, one of the most influential and ardent of his courtiers, a magnificent and wealthy Cavalier, a Romanist, and one greatly beloved by King and Queen.

"Sire," said this gentleman in a low, hurried voice. "I have just come from Westminster where there are some most horrid rumours abroad. I must acquaint you with——"

Charles looked at him in a startled and bewildered fashion.

"More ill news?" he murmured.

"Nay," said the Marquess, "it is but one of many rumours such as now for ever beat the air—but I have sounded several on the likely truth of this report, and do believe it to be more than an idle alarm."

The King took his friend's arm and drew him into his cabinet where the wax-lights had already been lit and the fire sparkled between the gleaming brass andirons.

"Dear lord, be concise and brief," he said affectionately. "I have summoned Lord Falkland, and he," added Charles with his usual imprudence, "is not in my confidence. I have taken him because I must. Now, thy news."

The Marquess, who was as magnificent in appearance as he was in temperament, being in all things the great noble, the patron of the arts, the refined proud gentleman, the type of all that Charles most admired, began to pace the room as if in some perturbation of mind.

"I do not know how to frame the thing in words," he began; "'tis about John Pym."

"Ah, John Pym!" exclaimed Charles. He went to the fire and broke one of the flaming logs with the toe of his boot.

"It is soberly said and credibly received," continued the Marquess, "that this knavish fellow who hath such a marvellous hold on the minds of his party is preparing an impeachment of——"

My lord paused, and the King turned sharply from the fire.

"What friend of mine doth he strike at now?" he asked, in a tone of bitter anger and shame.

"It is said——"

"Thyself?"

"Nay, sire—should I for that have troubled you? It is said he meditates impeaching Her Most Sacred Majesty."

"Oh, just God!" cried Charles, "shall I endure this another hour, another minute?" He struck his breast with his open hand, and the rush of blood to his face showed even through the glow of the fire. "Am I the King and cannot I protect my wife?"

"Among Pym's party the thing is denied," said the Marquess, with an instinctive desire to be fair even to people so hateful to him as were the Puritans, "but remembering how suddenly he struck before, and seeing how persistent the rumour was and how many held it credible, I thought it well to bring it before Your Majesty——"

"It needed but that!" exclaimed the King. "Yet it needed not a further outrage. I had already decided on my course."

He crossed suddenly to the Marquess and grasped him by the embroidered sleeves.

"Ever since Strafford died," he said, struggling with violent emotion, "I have vowed in my heart, by my crown and before God, that Pym and the Parliament should pay! And they shall—to the last drop of blood in their bodies! Let no one ask me for mercy for John Pym, for I would sooner lose my all than lose my vengeance on these rebellious heretics!"

"It were better to strike at once," replied the Marquess, who well knew the King's habit of hesitation, and whose sympathies were with the more reckless counsels of the Queen. "Nor wait until they have gathered strength and courage, or till fear giveth them daring. For I believe they have their suspicions that Your Majesty meaneth to punish them."

"My lord," replied Charles, "you speak with wisdom. You shall not have long to wait. Let me but beguile my Lord Falkland, who is for a compromise with these fellows."

He returned to the fireplace and stood there, shivering, and warming his hands, though not that he was cold; his features had a red, swollen look as if he had lately wept, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and bloodshot.

"My lord," he said, "come to me when Lord Falkland hath gone, and I shall have my project ready."

Before the Marquess could answer, the King's page ushered in Lord Falkland.

The King stood silent, biting his forefinger as the young noble saluted him.

Not without misgiving did Lord Falkland see the Marquess in this closeness with the King. He knew him to be a man of honour and loyalty, but he knew him also to be one of those whose perverse and reckless advice the King most leant on—advice fatal to the peace of the kingdom, my lord thought, despairing of bringing Charles into an alliance with the Puritans when the great Romanist noble thus held his ear. The Marquess on his side regarded Lord Falkland as little better than a mild fanatic, and in his heart likened him, half bitterly, half humorously, to one who, at a bear baiting, should strive to separate the furious animals by Christian reasoning when the stoutest stick made would be scarce sufficient.

So to the Marquess, who, though no statesman and no idealist, yet was shrewd enough in a worldly way, did Lord Falkland's attempt to make peace among the factions appear.

He took a half-laughing leave of the Viscount, and, kissing the King's hand, retired.

Charles picked up a small black leather portfolio from his bureau and began turning over the sketches it contained; they were Italian drawings recently brought by the Earl of Arundel from Rome, and the King glanced at them with real pleasure and relief. They were to his distracted mind what wine and gaiety would be to other men.

Lucius Carey, my Lord Falkland, with a look of anxiety on his beautiful face, waited for him to speak.

"Mr. Pym," said Charles at length, gazing at a little drawing in bistre of a rocky landscape with trees, "did make some discourse with me on the government of England."

"Was his speech such as to please Your Majesty?" asked the Viscount eagerly.

"Please me?" repeated the King, keeping his voice steady, but the paper in his hand fluttering from the nervous shaking of his wrist. "He wished to discuss matters with me as if we were two stewards set over an estate—not as if we were King and subject. Yet I do not doubt that he is a man of influence and one full of expedients and devices."

"He is honest," said my lord, "and of great power, and it is most necessary that Your Majesty should consider him and his party."

"Have I not," asked the King with subdued violence, "considered them?"

He put the drawing back in the portfolio and turned his sad, angry gaze on Lord Falkland.

"It is most necessary," returned the Viscount, "that Your Majesty should put aside all prejudice, and entertain the advices of these men with sincerity and openness. It is said at Westminster——"

"Yea, it is said at Westminster!" interrupted Charles, thinking of what the Marquess of Winchester had told him. "What is not said at Westminster?"

Lord Falkland was entirely ignorant of what the King referred to, and knew nothing of the designs imputed to Mr. Pym.

"I referred to those floating whispers and alarming rumours which declare Your Majesty intendeth, and hath intended, ever since your coming from Scotland, some sudden and violent measures against the popular leaders."

The King turned to his portfolio again and drew out a delicate pencil sketch of the Madonna and Child; the few strokes of lead glowed with all the sweetness and grace of the Umbrian School.

"There is a lovely Raffaello, my lord," he said. "Who would not rather spend his time with these than with dusty politics?"

"A King hath no choice, sire," answered the Viscount, who had himself left a wealthy cultured retirement at the call of patriotism.

"No," said Charles, "there are many matters in which I have no choice. As to these reports you have heard, did I not lately promise the Commons that their safety was as much my care as that of my own children? And have I not promised you, my lord, and my other councillors, to take no step without your advice? What more can you ask of your King?"

"Nothing more," replied Lord Falkland. "If Your Majesty remain of that mind I believe there will be but little difficulty to bring all things to a happy conclusion. Only I know that there are certain rash perverse courtiers who would tempt Your Majesty to step outside the law."

"You have caught a republican tone from this Puritan party," said Charles haughtily. "How shall I keep within the law who am alone the law?"

Lord Falkland reddened at the rebuke, but answered the King manfully and earnestly.

"Sire, if I am not honest with you, I lack in loyalty. The constitution of England is a mighty thing, and even the King must respect it—even as you have promised. And if you go against it, and against the party and principles of Mr. Pym, there will be great store of unhappiness ahead of us all."

Charles closed the portfolio and flung it down.

"I will do all things in reason," he said, facing the Viscount, "but I stand as fast by my faith as they by their heresies. I will not forsake the Church of England."

Lord Falkland was silent.

"And they ask for the militia," added Charles. "They desire that the army for Ireland be in their hands, officered by their creatures."

"Your Majesty," suggested Falkland, "might allow them the militia for a time."

"No, by Christ!" cried Charles, "not for an hour! You ask what was never asked of King before. Neither Church nor sword will I surrender."

"Then the conference of Your Majesty with Mr. Pym hath been unavailing?" asked my lord mournfully.

"I do not say so much," replied Charles. "I have said I will not be unreasonable, nor regardless in any way, of the good of the people. I will see Mr. Pym again."

"Forgive me, sire," said the Viscount, "but a temperate carriage is advisable now in all things, to keep our friends, to gain others, and to render impossible the horrid chance of bloodshed."

The King's eyes narrowed.

"They would fight, would they?" he answered. "Well, so would I—I am not fearful of that. I should know how to meet rebellion."

"Rebellion?" repeated Lord Falkland. "I do not dare to use or think that word!"

"There are some who do," said Charles dryly, "but with God's grace we will avoid that danger. Are you satisfied, my lord?"

The Viscount bowed.

"I have Your Majesty's word for those measures we believe most necessary now. I am content to leave the rest in the hands of Your Majesty."

In his heart, the Viscount, who had met much disillusion and disappointment since he had joined the Court party, was far from satisfied. He found the King, as ever, vague, shifting, and reserved, and he was bound to conclude that the interview with John Pym had proved absolutely fruitless. Yet he drew some comfort from the fact that Charles had promised to commit no violence on any of the Members of the Commons nor to take any steps without the advice of his new counsellors—those moderate, loyal men of whom Falkland and Hyde were the chief, and whose mild and patriotic measures were entirely devoted to the task of making a settlement in the kingdom and mediating between Charles and the Parliament.

Charles seemed to notice the shade of sadness, perhaps of mistrust, on my lord's fair face, and he touched him lightly and kindly on the shoulder.

"Believe I shall act as becometh a King," he said, smiling.

Lord Falkland kissed his sovereign's hand and withdrew, reassuring himself as best he might, and comforting himself with those fair visions of truth and concord that never failed to fill his idealistic mind.

Charles returned to the portfolio and continued to handle the drawings with a loving, delicate touch, and to gaze at them with the sensitive eyes of appreciation and knowledge.

He was so employed when my Lord Winchester returned. When the splendid Marquess entered, he put the sketches by.

"There is little satisfaction to be had from my Lord Falkland," he remarked. "He is little better than an ambassador of the Puritans."

"What will Your Majesty do?" asked the Marquess eagerly.

"To-morrow," replied Charles, "there will be a few of these enemies of mine lodged in the Tower. To-morrow I impeach Pym and four of his creatures of high treason, at the Bar of the House of Lords."