And thus my father surprised us, by which accident we were not a little taken aback. My lover, however, rose bravely to the occasion, and very plainly and without any mincing of the matter asked him for my hand in marriage; saying in conclusion, however, that he was aware his present state and condition might well justify Sir Michael's refusing to grant his request: "Which, sir," said he, "I had not made until cleared of all suspicion of treason to His Highness, but for you knowing me innocent, and the recent avowal of my affection being by surprise, as it were, wrung from me."  
"Indeed, sir," I broke in, hoping by a little boldness to cover my confusion the better, "there was no surprise but this same gad-about daughter of yours. It was through no fault of his, for none but I did wring from Captain Royston that offer of alliance he now seems minded to repent."
 
"Be silent, child," said my father; "Captain Royston stands in need of no champion with me." Whereat I was abashed to a blushing hotter than before. "My lad," said Sir Michael, "I have twofold reason to be glad. It would go hard with me to refuse the man who has done for my name what you have done, even were he not the husband I have this many a day desired for my child. And, if we cannot put you right with the Prince, we must together endure. But I hope for better things." And with these words my father drew me to him, and put my hand in that of Captain Royston.
 
There is no need to rehearse all that was said and felt on this occasion of my betrothal. There was among us regard so reverent, friendship so strong, and acquaintance so well tested of time, that the dark shadow hanging over could not, even while it chastened, in any way jar with nor distort the joy of the two who saw the future each in the other's countenance; nor of him that saw in the faces of us both a vision of the past that was ever green and poignant in the young heart of the old man.
 
And as I left them to visit Lady Mary, now too long neglected, my father told me that I had gained a husband such as is not had every day.
 
So I went to my lady's door, and there, very proud in the thought that out of all the world Captain Royston had chosen me, I loitered a little; for I hoped that my cheeks would presently lose something of the telltale color that still seemed to burn in them. And after I entered her chamber the time for a while went so exceedingly heavily that I think it but charity to take my reader elsewhere.
 
Sir Michael and Captain Royston were now for a space engaged in discussion of the future. But, as they neither knew that Philip, in the obstinacy of his opinion, had escaped them, nor that events now in preparation should very shortly change the complexion of the whole matter, their animadversions and reflections upon this occasion are become of little moment.
 
Now my father, on his coming which did so mightily abash me, was carrying under his arm in its sheath the sword which, in its day and his, had been so terrible to many a man of the Parliament's forces. It was indeed many years that he had not worn steel at his side; but it was ever a custom with him, upon any occasion of state, danger, or solemnity, to fetch with him in the morning this sword from his chamber. More than once or twice, when I was a little maid with a conscience not seldom ill at ease, has the sight of that honorable blade, tucked slantwise beneath his arm as he painfully descended the great stair of a morning, driven me to hasty repentance and confession of yesterday's prank or peccadillo.
 
My father, then proposing that they should take the air a little, since the sun continued bravely to shine, remarked, as he laid this sword upon his chair by the hearth, that his companion had but an empty scabbard dangling at his sword-belt. To Sir Michael's civil offer of his own good weapon to replace that so unhappily lost, Ned replied that he thanked him, but would make shift for a while with the scabbard, having a mind to fill it again with the only blade that fitted it, if haply it might be done. And as he spoke his face was suffused with a flush of deep crimson; the only blush, my father said, that he had ever seen on the lad's goodly countenance.
 
And so they walked a turn in the park, amongst the trees and the deer, Sir Michael supported, until a pleasant bench was reached, by an arm that is, I have found, very good and comfortable to lean upon; where I, having from my lady's window seen them pass, made shift after a little to join them. Ned rose to meet me, and I was glad to see the shadow driven from his face by the smile of his welcome.
 
"My lady is very instant and pressing that you should go to her," I said, as I seized in both mine the hand he stretched to me.
 
"What, what!" says my father merrily. "Was all this bird-like haste of swooping down upon us but to drive the man again from your side? 'T is early days, little Phil—early days!"
 
"Indeed, sir," I replied, panting a little yet for the speed I had used, "I would not have the man leave me, and so ran to husband the minutes with him. Nor I would not have him go to Madam Royston, who will, without doubt, very quickly draw from him our morning's doings."
 
"And wherefore should she not know them?" said Ned, smiling gently on me the while he still clung to my hand, as finding comfort in the touch of it.
 
"Because," said I, "we have trouble enough, and she will surely make more when she knows. 'T is now three years past that she told me I must look for no such greatness as to be your—" and there my boldness had an end.
 
"Is it indeed as you say?" cried poor Ned; and his eyes went in question from mine to Sir Michael's.
 
And then that little devil of mischief was in me again.
 
"I vow 't is very true," I said. "Nor I do not quarrel at that. But in this same matter she had a promise of me, that—that——"
 
"What promise was it?" he asked, in some distress. "I do hope it was nothing foolish, nor hard to keep."
 
"I had almost forgot it," I answered, lingering over my words, "but now I do perceive I have to the letter kept it. Yet indeed, dear Ned, it was for some hours hard to observe that pledge, for I did promise her that I would wait until I was asked." And, if my jest was of more boldness than wit, the laughter that greeted it, being compounded of love, merriment, and confidence, lacked nothing of the finest quality.
 
Conversation more sober ensuing, it appeared that Ned, who already, before he broke his fast, had visited her, was neither now willing to leave me, nor, with the present load of care upon him, to submit again so soon to the searching scrutiny of his mother's eyes a countenance that was, he well knew, of a very treacherous honesty. For, if he saw little need to conceal our betrothal from her, he had no mind she should get wind of his disfavor with His Highness of Orange. Whereupon my father, who seemed, indeed, to preside at the feast of our joy with a tenderness almost feminine, undertook an embassage to my Lady Mary, hoping, he said, by discovery of the betrothal, to close her eyes for a while to all other troubles.
 
He stoutly refused every offer of assistance to his walking, saying it were best with all the pains of a penitent to approach so awful a shrine; and so, cheerily waving one hand and leaning with the other upon his stick, made his way limping to the house.
 
It was not long after his leaving us that, although deep in discussion of matters vastly entertaining at least to those engaged, I heard the rapid approach of a horse, of which, with his rider, I very soon had a glimpse as they passed the open space between the last trees of the avenue and the southeastern corner of the house.
 
Now, while Ned spoke many things most sweet to hear, and I, though finding my power of words strangely contracted since my father's leaving us, now and again made shift to answer him; and while he was about opening that question, to this day not with conclusion to be answered, of when first each did begin to love the other, some part of me was all the time with secret clamor asking who this mounted visitor should be. What if he were from the Prince? And so, though I heard most of his words, and held them all dear, I was at length in such a fever of desire to know more of what was toward within doors, that I told Ned my presence was needed in the house, as much in his own interest as of the visitor, and my father that must entertain him. And I would not let him conduct me, for I wished (though to him I said nothing of this), in case of news, ill or good, in the matter of his standing with His Highness, to know it first myself; so begged him where he was to await me a while, and left him, I doubt not, in much amaze at the contradictions of the feminine nature. At least it was so that I was fain to hope he explained a behavior that may well have appeared whimsical in me; having not infrequently observed that this is with some of our masters a means much favored to avoid the pains of understanding our vagaries even the most reasonable.
 
Sir Michael, being admitted to Lady Mary's presence, had come no nearer his purpose than some prefatory compliments and good wishes, when he was hastily called away to meet a gentleman that was come on urgent business from His Highness of Orange. Repairing at once to the great hall, he found before him M. de Rondiniacque, just dismounted and entered, looking with a wryness of countenance ill-concealed upon the tankard of ale held out to him by little Prue.
 
Perceiving his host, the French officer politely waved aside the refreshment, and bowed to Sir Michael with great reverence and all the grace of the Paris manner. Now his name, as was but natural, when it reached my father's ears, was become twisted out of all shape.
 
"You are welcome," says Sir Michael, returning his obeisance. "I address, I believe, M. le Lieutenant—" and there stuck.
 
"Jean-Marie Godemar de Rondiniacque, at your service," replied that gentleman. "My poor name, Sir Michael, has great terror for unwonted tongues!"
 
"'T is then a fit companion to your sword, M. de Rondiniacque," says Sir Michael, in the older fashion of courtly compliment.
 
M. de Rondiniacque bowed again. "It is well if they agree, sir," he said, "for they are my whole estate."
 
"I can wish you, M. de Rondiniacque, no better," replied my father. "You come, I believe, from His Highness of Orange."
 
And M. de Rondiniacque, saying that he had indeed that honor, presented a letter from the Prince, in which it was set forth that His Highness, being in the neighborhood, was fain to do himself the pleasure of a visit, of necessity short, to so distinguished a soldier and gentleman, and so stanch a supporter of that cause which the Prince had made his own, as Sir Michael Drayton; and would not in his coming lag far behind the bearer of the letter.
 
Having read, Sir Michael was at once for calling out his little company of armed men and putting himself at their head, in order to meeting His Highness in the village, and escorting him to the house, but M. de Rondiniacque very respectfully opposed this course, saying that His Highness was particular in his instructions that Sir Michael's age and infirmities should be disturbed by no pomp nor ceremony of reception.
 
"His Highness does me great honor," said Sir Michael.
 
"His Highness is little likely to forget," replied M. de Rondiniacque, "that, in an hour when he almost despaired of that help and countenance he was led to look for on his coming into England from gentlemen of condition, Sir Michael Drayton was the first to come forward and set a noble pattern to the rest. There are, moreover, other matters, I believe, in which the Prince holds himself your debtor, sir. But of these, being most curiously entangled with some of another sort, I am not to speak; being straitly enjoined to leave them for your meeting with His Highness."
 
Now these words did mightily please my father, filling him with hope by his own influence and arguments of setting all things right between Captain Royston and the Prince of Orange. So, most courteously praying M. de Rondiniacque that until His Highness's arrival he would consider the house his own, begging excuse of his absence on the ground of fit preparation to be made for the Prince, and bidding Prudence attend the gentleman's wants, he took himself off to find Philip, and with him concert a plan of action.
 
Alone with Prue, M. de Rondiniacque was not long in marking, according to his habit, the dainty person and pretty face of her that waited upon him. Now Prudence was never slow to observe when she had made a conquest, however slight, and soon responded to his flattery by bringing him in a flagon something better than the ale she had observed him to look upon so sourly.
 
"Perhaps, sir," says Prue, "being out of France, you will have more thirst for good Burgundy than for our ale."
 
"Pour it to me yourself, fair Hebe," cried De Rondiniacque; and as she obeyed he smiled upon her freely, and twisted in very gallant fashion the little black mustachios that adorned his lip. "Nay," he continued: "but you must put those pretty lips to the cup before I drink."
 
"Oh! la, no, sir!" cries Prue; "indeed I could n't," and straightway sipped, making, I doubt not, as she cried "I' fecks, 't is good!" a little grimace of satisfaction, with lips pursed up, as I have seen her often, like a bird uplifting his bill in dumb thanksgiving to the clouds for water in a thirsty land. Indeed, M. de Rondiniacque has told me, in these days of nearer acquaintance, that things had fallen far otherwise than they did but for the pretty coquetry of Prudence and his own too inflammable temper.
 
If the wine was red, he remarked, her lips were no less rich in color; which led him incontinently to swear the wine was but the second refreshment for his tasting; and if her coyness persuaded him to change the order of succession, a great draught of that generous wine of Burgundy did by no means lessen his desire to taste the red velvet of her now pouting lips.
 
And so it was that I, nearing the door, was by a scream from my handmaid drawn with such haste into the hall that I found her in the arms of M. de Rondiniacque, whose mouth was pressed with much force and no little enjoyment to the lips he had of late compared with the wine.
 
At once recognizing the gallant officer for my friend of yesterday, I wished indeed that I had stayed with Ned; but in the brief time spent by Prudence in freeing herself (for she had immediately seen me), and by M. de Rondiniacque in perceiving me, and letting her free, I had called to my assistance all that dignity and state of bearing which is seldom far to seek by the woman, however young and unversed in the world, who has faith in her gown and her cause.
 
"Prudence!" I cried, standing half-way between them and the door, and speaking with great severity, while she, red as fire, fumbled piteously with her apron, and the gentleman sought to cover the foolishness of his face with the hand that pulled at the hair upon his upper lip; "Prudence, what means this noise and outcry? Who are you, sir?"
 
"A poor gentleman of France, mistress," he replied, "but now arrived with word of the coming of His Highness of Orange."
 
"And does that good news fetch cries for help from my serving-woman?" I demanded, bending my brows in a frown that I would have had very awful.
 
"Nay, be not so moved, fair mistress," said M. de Rondiniacque, in a voice very gentle and soothing. "The outcry was for another matter, and, foi de gentilhomme! the fault was mine alone. It was but for—for a kiss that I did give the maid in jest."
 
"Such jests, good sir, are fitter for the camp," I answered, a little relaxing my sternness. Then, observing that he began with more intentness to regard me, I sent Prudence at once from the hall. When she was gone, I prayed him, with a courtesy very frigid, to let me know, ere I left him, if there were aught in which I could serve him, or provide for his comfort, ending, as I thought very artfully, with, "M. de—de—" as if I knew not his name.
 
"My name is De Rondiniacque," he said, smiling on me with an expression of much cunning. "I do perceive that you are at least aware of my claim to noble family. One thing, madam, there is, in which you can oblige me,—to tell me, I mean, where I have before encountered you."
 
"I cry you mercy, sir," I said, "for I know not what you mean." For somehow I had little mind to discuss with him the affair of last night, and was abashed, moreover, at the thought of how I had then appeared. So I spoke with a great haughtiness and disdain, and made to leave him.
 
But he came quickly between me and the door, and—"Mon Dieu!" he cried, "'t is the pretty boy of yesterday!"
 
"You grow in mystery, M. de Rondiniacque," I said. "Prithee, let me pass!"
 
"Nay, nay," he answered, "this loftiness shall not bugbear me, pretty one. Thou dost know thy way to a camp and out again as well as another. Faith, I did ponder wherefore those bright eyes did draw me so."
 
"If you continue these matters with me, sir, I must leave you," I cried, and so made attempt to pass him.
 
But he seized me gently by the arm. "You shall not so," he exclaimed. "Nay, do not fear I will hurt you. I do not handle a woman as I grasped that ruffling youth. How fare the pretty wrists?"
 
My anger here prevailing over my prudence, I declared roundly that I would take these injuries to those that should exact account of them. Whereupon he seized me very firmly by the hand, so that I could not withdraw it.
 
"And tell them, too," he said, "of last night's masquerade. I will not be denied. Your secret is safe with me. Do I not know? Have I not many such in keeping? But none, I swear, for so lovely a partner in guilt. But it must be a bargain between us." And as I struggled to free my hand he wound his arm about my waist, holding me with a wonderful gentleness of strength. "Nay, do not fret," he went on, "I will not hurt you, and the bargain is soon struck. A tender glance of your eye will pay for much, as I doubt not you have been told before. Come, strife is folly with those that love us; and verily you are so beautiful that I love you already. What! still stubborn?"
 
"Loose me," I panted, now mad with rage and struggling.
 
"I vow," said he, "I am beside myself with love of you. Oh, why so easy but one day past, and now so proud?"
 
"I will call," said I, drawing breath for a loud cry.
 
"And not twice," said a harsh voice from the door, whither turning my eyes I beheld Edward Royston. He had followed me as I my father, and, even as I, was arrived in a moment for M. de Rondiniacque most unhappy. To prove this, the mere sight of his countenance was enough; I had often seen it stern, but never before so terrible.
 
Now, upon my entrance some few minutes befo............