Upon the fine face of the King, as he entered Nell’s drawing-room, was an expression of nervous bantering, not wholly unmixed with anxiety.

The slanderous Adair and his almost miraculous escape had not long weighed upon his Majesty’s careless nature.

As he had not met Adair until that night or even heard of him, his heart had told him that the Irish roisterer could scarcely be a serious obstacle in the way of Nell’s perfect faith, if, indeed, he had met Nell at all, which he doubted. His command to the guard to follow and overtake the youth had been more the command of the ruler than of the man. Despite himself, there had been something about the dainty peacock he could not help but like; and the bold dash for the window, the disarming of the purse-proud Buckingham, who for many reasons displeased him, and the leap to the sward below, with the accompanying farewell, had especially delighted both his manhood and his sense of humour.

He had, therefore, dismissed Adair from his mind, except as a possible subject to banter Nell withal, or as a culprit to punish, if overtaken.

His restless spirit had chafed under the Duchess’s lavish entertainment–for the best entertainment is dull to the lover whose sweetheart is absent–and he had turned instinctively from the ball to Nell’s terrace, regardless of the hour and scarce noticing his constant attendants.

The night was so beautiful that their souls had found vent in song.

This serenade, however, had brought to Nell’s window a wide-awake fellow, who had revealed himself in saucy talk; and the delighted cavaliers, in hope of fun, had charged jeeringly that they had outwitted the guard and had found Adair.

It was this that had brought the anxious look to the King’s face; and, though his better judgment was still unchanged, the sight of the knave at the window, together with the suggestions of his merry followers, had cast a shadow of doubt for the moment upon his soul, and he had reflected that there was much that the Irish youth had said that could not be reconciled with that better judgment.

With a careless shrug, he had, therefore, taken up the jest of his lawless crew, which coincided with his own intended purpose, and had sworn that he would turn the household out of bed without regard to pretty protests or formality of warrant. He would raise the question forthwith, in jest and earnest, and worry Nell about the boaster.

“Scurvy entertainment,” he began, with frowning brow.

“Yea, my liege,” explained Nell, winsomely; “you see–I did not expect the King so late, and so was unpresentable.”

“It is the one you do not expect,” replied Charles, dryly, “who always causes the trouble, Nell.”

“We were in bed, Sire,” threw in Moll, thinking to come to the rescue of her mistress.

“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 helmet and mantle on. You see, Sire, my menials were guests at Portsmouth’s ball–to lend respectability.”

“Saucy wag,” cried the Merry Monarch. “A ball?–A battle–which would have killed thee straight!”“It had liked to,” reflected Nell, as she tartly replied: “A war of the sex without me? It was stupid, then. The Duchess missed me, I trow.”

“Never fear,” answered Charles, with difficulty suppressing his mirth; “you were bravely championed.”

“I am sure of that,” said Nell, slyly; “my King was there.”

“And a bantam cock,” ejaculated Charles, sarcastically, “upon whose lips ‘Nell’ hung familiarly.”

“Some strange gallant,” cried Nell, in ecstasy, “took my part before them all? Who was he, Sire? Don’t tantalize me so.”

She smiled, half serious, half humorous, as she pleaded in her charming way.

“A chip from the Blarney Stone,” observed the King at length, ironically, “surnamed Adair!”

“Adair! Adair!” cried Nell, to the astonishment of all. “We spent our youth together. I see him in my mind’s eye, Sire, throw down the gauntlet in Nell’s name and defy the world for her. Fill the cups. We’ll drink to my new-found hero! Fill! Fill! To Beau Adair, as you love me, gallants! Long life to Adair!”

The cups were filled to overflowing and trembled on eager lips in response to the hostess’s merry toast.

“Stay!” commanded the King, in peremptory tones. “Not a drop to a coward!”

“A coward!” cried Nell, aghast. “Adair a coward? I’ll never credit it, Sire!”

She turned away, lest she reveal her merriment, as she bethought her: “He is trembling in my boots now. I can feel him shake.”

“Our pledge is Nell, Nell only!” exclaimed the King, his cup high in air.

With one accord, the gallants eagerly took up the royal pledge. “Aye, aye, Nell!” “Nell!” “We’ll drink to Nell!”

“You do me honour, royal gentlemen,” bowed Nell, well pleased at the King’s toast.

She had scarce touched the cup to her lips, however, with a mental chuckle, “Poor Adair! Here’s a health to the inner man!” when her eye fell upon one of Adair’s gray boots, which Moll had failed to hide, in her excitement, now revealing itself quite plainly in the light of the many candles. She caught it adroitly on the tip of her toe and sent it whizzing through the air in the direction of poor Moll, who, fortunately, caught it in midair and hid it quickly beneath her apron.

The King turned at the sound; but Nell’s face was as woefully unconcerned as a church-warden’s at his hundredth burial.

The wine added further zest to the merry-making and the desire for sport.

“Now, fair huswife,” continued Charles, his thoughts reverting to Adair, “set forth the dish, that we may carve it to our liking. ’Tis a dainty bit,–lace, velvet and ruffles.”

“Heyday, Sire,” responded Nell, evasively, “the larder’s empty.”

“Devil on’t,” cried Charles, ferociously; “no mincing, wench. In the confusion of the ball, the bird escaped my guard by magic. We know whither the flight.”The King assumed a knowing look.

“Escaped the guard?” gasped Nell, in great surprise. “Alas, I trow some petticoat has hid him then.”

“I’ll stake my life upon’t,” observed James, who had not been heard from in some time but who had been observing the scene with decorous dignity.

“Sire, you would not injure Adair,” pleaded Nell, now alert, with all her arts of fascination. “You are too generous. Blue eyes of heaven, and such a smile! Did you mark that young Irishman’s smile, Sire?”

Her impudence was so bewitching that the King scarce knew whether it were jest or earnest. He sprang to his feet from the couch, where he had thrown himself after the toast to Nell, and, with some forcefulness, exclaimed:

“Odsfish, this to my teeth, rogue! Guard the doors, gallants; we’d gaze upon this paragon.”

“And set him pirouetting, Sire,” sardonically suggested James.

“Yea, to the tune of these fiddle-sticks,” laughed Charles, as he unsheathed his rapier. “Search from tile to rafter.”

“Aye, aye,” echoed the omnipresent Rochester, “from cellar to garret.”

Before, however, the command could be obeyed, even in resolution, Nell moved uneasily to a curtain which hung in the corner of the room and placed herself before it, as if to shield a hidden man.

“Sire,” she pleaded fearfully, “spare him, Sire; for my sake, Sire. He is not to blame for loving me. He cannot help it. You know that, Sire!”

“Can he really be here?” muttered Charles, with clouding visage. “Saucy wench! Hey! My blood is charging full-tilt through my veins. Odsfish, we’ll try his mettle once again.”

“Prythee, Sire,” begged Nell, “he is too noble and brave and handsome to die. I love his very image.”

“Oh, ho!” cried Charles. “A silken blind for the silken bird! Hey, St. George for merry England! Come forth, thou picture of cowardice, thou vile slanderer.”

He grasped Nell by the wrist and fairly dragged her across the room. Then, rushing to the curtain, he seized its silken folds and tore it completely from its hangings–only to face himself in a large mirror. “Ods-pitikins, my own reflection!” he exclaimed, with menacing tone, though there was relief as well in his voice. He bent the point of his blade against the floor, gazed at himself in the pier-glass and looked over his shoulder at Nell, who stood in the midst of his courtiers, splitting her sides with laughter, undignified but honest.

“Rogue, rogue,” he cried, “I should turn the point on thee for this trick; but England would be worse than a Puritan funeral with no Nell. Thou shalt suffer anon.”

“I defy thee, Sire, and all thy imps of Satan,” laughed the vixen, as she watched the King sheathe his jewelled sword. “Cast Nell in the blackest dungeon, Adair is her fellow-prisoner; outlaw Nell, Adair is her brother outlaw; off with Nell’s head, off rolls Adair’s. Who else can boast so true a love!”“Thou shalt be banished the realm,” decided the King, jestingly; for he was now convinced that her Adair was but a jest to tease him–a Roland for his Oliver.

“Banished!” cried Nell, with bated breath.

“Aye; beyond sea, witch!” answered the King, with pompous austerity. “Virginia shall be thy home.”

“Good, good!” laughed Nell, gaily. “Sire, the men grow handsome in Virginia, and dauntless; and they tell me there are a dearth of women there. Oh, banish me at once to–What’s the name?”

“Jamestown,” suggested York, recalling the one name because of its familiar sound.

“Yea, brother James,” said Nell, fearlessly mimicking his brusque accent, “Jamestown.”

“Savages, wild men, cannibals,” scowled Charles.

“Cannibals!” cried Nell. “Marry, I should love to be a cannibal. Are there cannibals in Jamestown, brother James? Banish me, Sire; banish me to Jamestown of all places. Up with the sails, my merry men; give me the helm! Adair will sail in the same good ship, I trow.”

“Adair! I trow thou wert best at home, cannibal Nelly,” determined the King.

“Then set all the men in Britain to watch me, Sire,” said Nell; “for, from now on, I’ll need it.”

The King shook his finger warningly at her, then leaned carelessly against the window.

“Ho there!” he cried out suddenly. “A night disturbance, a drunken brawl, beneath our very ears! Fellow-saints, what mean my subjects from their beds this hour of night? Their sovereign does the revelling for the realm. James, Rochester and all, see to ’t!”