We must now hurry the reader from the gay capital to a small hunting seat at Royston, in which the King took peculiar delight, on account of the woods and wild forest scenery in which that part of the country abounded at the time we speak of, and which afforded him the opportunity of enjoying at liberty his favourite pastime of the chase.

According as caprice dictated, the monarch would go either in private, accompanied by his favourite, and a few of those whom he condescended to look upon as his friends, or with the whole Court, which was then packed into very narrow compass, many of the domestics and attendants being lodged out in the cottages round about, and the whole country swept by the King's purveyors to provide for the royal household, much to the annoyance of the poor inhabitants, who saw their fowls, their butter, their eggs, and their milk, carried away against their will. Nor was this the only inconvenience they suffered. Had they received full and ready payment for the food, which was taken, as it were, from their very mouths, they might have contented themselves. But such was not the case, and it was not till after long delays, and the deduction of an enormous per centage to the greedy officers of the King, that they obtained a scanty and illiberal compensation for the actual loss they sustained.

On the present occasion, the whole Court were at Royston; and so many human beings were crowded into the palace, that it was only when the hounds were abroad, and the greater part of the courtiers following the King to the chase, that anything like quiet and tranquillity was to be found in the building.

Such, however, was the case one morning; when Arabella Stuart, who had accompanied the Queen to Royston, after wandering out for a short time, returned towards the house with a paper in her hand, followed a step behind by an honest Hertfordshire farmer, to whom she spoke from time to time.

On the terrace before the palace, she turned to the man, saying, "Well, my good friend, I cannot undertake to give it to the King himself, because he is easily offended at such matters; but I will place it in the hands of those who can venture more boldly than I can, and who, I doubt not, will see right done to you."

The man bowed and withdrew; and Arabella, entering the vestibule, inquired of one of the servants, who sat there enjoying the usual listlessness of a palace, if Lord Rochester had gone with the King. The man replied in the affirmative; and she then asked, "Is Sir Thomas Overbury in the house?"

"Yes, lady," replied the man; "I saw him a minute ago, writing letters in the cabinet on the left hand, at the top of the stairs."

Arabella immediately proceeded thither, and, opening the door, went into the cabinet, where she found a young man, of a handsome person and agreeable expression of countenance, with a high forehead, dark eyes, and a look of intense thought, not unmingled with melancholy, in his face--that calm and thoughtful gloom which is generally found in men of great ambition. He was writing with a rapid hand and eager eye, and did not look round when the door first opened. The moment after, however, the lady's step caught his ear; and, raising his face, he instantly started up when he saw her.

"Good morning, Sir Thomas Overbury," said Arabella, advancing to the table: "I have a favour to ask of you."

"To do so is to confer one, madam," replied the knight, advancing and placing a chair: "pray be seated, and let me know your will. It has but to be known to be obeyed by me."

"You are very kind, Sir Thomas," answered Arabella, taking his words as a mere matter of compliment; "but I know you are always willing to do the best in your power for those who suffer by any of the abuses which occasionally follow every Court. This paper is a petition from a poor farmer in the neighbourhood against some of the King's purveyors, who have unnecessarily, it seems, swept off the whole stock of his farm; and, because he remonstrated, have cut down the trees before his dwelling.^[5] Neither have they, as yet, paid him for anything, nor even allowed his account."

"Alas, madam!" replied Overbury, with a sorrowful expression of countenance, "this is but one out of some twenty or thirty. What do you wish me to do with it?"

"Merely to ask Lord Rochester," replied Arabella, "to deliver it into the King's own hand, and, if possible, to obtain justice for the poor man."

Sir Thomas Overbury took the paper, and looked at the amount claimed. "I believe, madam," he answered, "that my Lord of Rochester would rather pay the money out of his own purse, than present this to his Majesty. The former I will undertake he shall do, at your request."

"Nay," replied the lady, "that is not what I could desire. It is the King's own debt, not Lord Rochester's. Neither could I, as you may easily understand, make any such a request to his Lordship."

Sir Thomas Overbury smiled: "You might make any request, madam, that you pleased, and be quite assured," he said, "that your request would immediately become his wish."

Arabella was somewhat surprised at the very courteous terms of Sir Thomas Overbury; for, although he had always treated her with due respect and attention, there was no intimacy subsisting between them, and even less between herself and Lord Rochester.

"You are very kind," she answered; "but all I can desire is, that his Lordship would present the petition to the King, who I feel very sure will grant it at his request."

"Ah, madam!" replied the Knight, "you know not how difficult it is to get petitions acceded to; but I hope, if my Lord Rochester succeeds in this, he may be equally successful, should he some day be a petitioner to your Ladyship."

Accustomed to flattering speeches, to praises of her beauty, and to hints of deeper attachment, which her high rank prevented those who felt it from declaring more openly, Arabella might have thought little of the pointed expressions of Sir Thomas Overbury, had there not been a seriousness in his tone and manner that alarmed her.

She rose then immediately, and again thanking him for his civility was about to retire; but he stopped her, saying, "One moment, lady: I have long wished for an opportunity of speaking a few words to you." He then paused and hesitated, while Arabella remained silent, gazing upon him with an anxious and inquiring look.

"Perhaps, madam," said the knight, at length, "you may think me very officious and impertinent, but if I be so, it is from my sincere regard to two high persons, whose fortunes much depend upon each other."

"I really do not know, sir, what you mean," replied Arabella.

"I will explain myself," continued Sir Thomas Overbury. "My Lord of Rochester, my kind master and very good friend, is noble, as you know, by birth, but has risen from a very poor estate to the highest power and authority in this realm, under the King. You are aware with what favours his Majesty has loaded him, what wealth he has bestowed upon him, and what confidence he places in him."

"I doubt not," replied Arabella, "that he is worthy of it all; and, indeed, I know him to be liberal and kind to the poor, more modest than most favourites would be in his household and demeanour, and, moreover, devoted to the King, of which we have a striking instance, as I hear, the other day, in giving five-and-twenty thousand pounds in gold to the officers of the revenue, when he found the King's treasury was empty. If you suppose, Sir Thomas, that I am one of those who envy him his good fortune, or deny him good qualities, from jealousy of the King's favour, you are quite mistaken."

"Madam, I know your noble heart too well," said Overbury, "to suspect it of harbouring such pitiful feelings; and, dealing with you simply in frankness and candour, I was about to lay before you the evils as well as the advantages of my Lord Rochester's position, trusting to your honour never to reveal that which I shall say."

"Of that you may be quite assured," replied Arabella.

"Well then, madam," continued the knight, "you see Lord Rochester, as he now stands at the height of power and favour, courted and flattered by all men, each day advancing in wealth and distinction, and having every vacant office in the state at his disposal. Young, too, he is, and certainly most strikingly handsome, with health unimpaired by the various vices of the day--by drunkenness, or dissolute living; so that, in all probability, his life will be long preserved. But, at the same time, it must not be concealed that all this fabric of greatness stands at present on a frail foundation. I do not mean the favour of the King, for that, I believe, unless from some great fault on his Lordship's part, will only be terminated with the King's life. But, lady, I am now going to say what I would venture to no other ears than yours: the King's life itself is uncertain--his physicians do not augur that it will be a long one. The violent exercises of the chase, to which he addicts himself so passionately, daily wear down the powers of a constitution naturally feeble. A thousand accidents, too, might happen to deprive us of our sovereign; and, were he gone, the apparent enmity of the Prince would easily find means to effect my Lord's ruin, unless his friends can contrive to fix his fortunes upon a stronger foundation than at present. Now, lady, will you forgive me if, leaving the picture of this nobleman's fate, I turn to paint that of another--your own?"

"I fear," said Arabella, who felt her heart beating with apprehension of what was to come next, "I fear the Queen may require me, I have been absent long."

"I will not detain you many minutes," replied Sir Thomas Overbury; "but indeed you must hear me out: it is but justice to me after what I have said. You yourself, madam, as I know you feel, are placed in a very peculiar and painful position."

Arabella seated herself, and leaned her head upon her hand.--"Of the highest rank that subject can attain to," continued the knight, "the next heir to the Crown, failing the King and his royal children, with less wealth than your merits well deserve, and denied all power and influence, the object of vain conspiracies to every idle traitor, and of jealous apprehension to your royal cousin, you are denied the only consolation that could be afforded to such a fate, by being shut out from domestic happiness on motives of state policy."

"True!" said Arabella, with a sigh.

"You must have remarked, madam," continued Sir Thomas Overbury, "that all the many applications for your hand by sovereign princes, who could well pretend thereunto, have been rejected without consulting you; and so it will ever be. You will be condemned to pass through life without being permitted to bestow on any one in this country, or elsewhere, the greatest blessing to which man can perhaps aspire on earth--the possession of so charming and excellent a creature as yourself."

Arabella had been somewhat moved by the first part of his discourse; and she knew that there was but one way to cover her emotion, and to avoid being forced to deal seriously with a matter, which she saw might involve her in terrible difficulties if she treated it gravely. She resolved, therefore, to assume that gay and playful lightness of manner which had often been her resource under such circumstances; and though, for a moment, it cost her a great effort, she replied, laughingly, "You must not take it for granted, Sir Thomas, that I had an inclination to accept any of these mighty potentates, even if the King had wished it. The grapes, to be sure, are sour with me, as with the fox in the fable; and I will own that it is always much more agreeable to a woman to have her vanity flattered by the opportunity of saying 'No' to such tender supplications, than to have them dismissed without her interference. But, nevertheless, I can assure you, upon my honour, that if I had been left to act according to my own will and choice, not one of all these gentlemen who have asked the King for my poor hand should have obtained it. You cannot say, Sir Thomas, that you have ever seen on my part the least desire that their suit should be approved--or the least disappointment at their rejection."

"Certainly not, madam," answered the knight; "and I can easily conceive that a heart like yours, knowing that domestic happiness is rarely, if ever, obtained in a royal station, would gladly avoid such a state. But still, lady, you must be convinced that, if the King refuses you to foreign princes, he will be still more resolute in denying you to almost any of his own subjects."

"To any, I should think," replied Arabella.

"To any but one," replied Sir Thomas Overbury, "to whom, in his present mood, he can refuse nothing. Now, lady, listen to all in one word. Your union with Lord Rochester would to him secure, first, the inestimable blessing of a wife, whom he could both love and respect--who could both make his home bright and happy, and, by her experience of courts, guide, counsel, and support him; and, secondly, would obtain for him such an alliance with those from whom he has most to fear, as would ensure him against reverse in case of the decease of the King. You would gain an affectionate, warm-hearted, and sincere husband, who would be dependent upon yourself for the stability of his position; and, instead of being condemned to see life pass by without any of those ties which form a woman's happiness, would at once----"

"Stay, stay, Sir Thomas," cried Arabella, with a gay smile, "do not make the picture too enchanting. Consider, my dear sir, you are wooing for another, who has given no sign of love or hope.--Good faith! I shall expect, if ever I am to be a wife, to be courted, and flattered, and sought, just as much as other women, or perhaps more. Besides, the king's consent is not gained.--That would be the first step before asking mine, who, poor creature, have little power over my own destiny. Not that the King would not give me every liberty to refuse, I am sure. It is of my accepting only that he is afraid; and, depend upon it, as this hand is the only boon on earth I have to give, I will make the man who obtains it know its full value. Oh, I am a true woman! You do not know me yet, Sir Thomas. I will have all my caprices, too, according to rule and precedent; and I will make my stipulations, like the heiress of an alderman. There must be my dower, and my annual stipend, and my two coaches lined with velvet, and my gentlewomen, and my gentlemen ushers, and my horses, and grooms, and squires of the hand, and my ordinary maids and footmen, and my gowns of apparel, and my common gowns; and then there must be carpets, and hangings, and couches, and glass, and my sideboard of plate, and my canopy; and, moreover, I must be a duke's wife, so that nobody may go before me at the court.--Oh! you cannot imagine all the things that I will require," she added, with a laugh; "but, some day, you shall have an inventory of them: and now, good faith! I must fly to the Queen, for indeed, Sir Thomas, if it were known that I had been talking with you so long, and all about love and matrimony, we should both run a great risk of finding our way to the Tower, Adieu, adieu, with many thanks!" and thus saying, with a light step and gay air, she quitted the room.

The moment she was in the corridor, however, her face resumed its gravity, and she murmured, "Gracious heaven! when will men cease to make me the object of their ambitious schemes?"

In the meanwhile, Sir Thomas Overbury stood by the side of the table, and gazed down upon it with vacant eyes, "Yes," he said at length, "yes, her consent is sure, and this lightness but assumed to cover deeper things. That is clear enough. The rest must be done by Rochester; for doubtless, as she says, she will require courting.--The King, too, must be managed; but that can be done; and then, with his fortunes fixed upon a basis that nothing can shake, allied to Royalty itself, and with his doting monarch's whole life before him, he may indeed do what he will. And I!--Why, is he not my creature, as the King is his? When, too, he owes the rock on which his fortune is planted to my counsels, he must surely show his gratitude.--He is young, warmhearted--yet unhardened by a Court; and, even granted that, in a few years, he be corrupted by the invariable selfishness and baseness of such scenes as these, ere then the eagle shall have soared on high, unless fate clip his wings. Give me three years--but three years; and if with the powers of mind I feel within this brain, and the resolution I know within this heart, I rule not in the council chamber and the senate--why, let them kick me forth as a scurvy cur, unfitted for high places."

Thus thinking, he sat himself down to write again, and did not rise till the sound of the horns warned him that the King and Court were returning.