Part 21 (2/2)
”Amuse me!” exclaimed Charles, thoughtfully. ”Hark ye, Nell! States may marry us; they cannot make us love. Ye G.o.ds, the humblest peasant in my realm is monarch of a heart of his own choice. Would I were such a king!”
”What buxom country la.s.s,” asked Nell, sadly but wistfully, ”teaches your fancy to follow the plough, my truant master?”
”You forget: I too,” continued Charles, ”have been an outcast, like Orange Nell, seeking a crust and bed.”
He arose and turned away sadly to suppress his emotion. He was not the King of England now: he was a man who had suffered; he was a man among men.
”Forgive me, Sire,” said Nell, tenderly, as a woman only can speak, ”if I recall unhappy times.”
”Unhappy!” echoed Charles, while Fancy toyed with Recollection. ”Nell, in those dark days, I learned to read the human heart. G.o.d taught me then the distinction 'twixt friend and enemy. When a misled rabble had dethroned my father, girl, and murdered him before our palace gate, and bequeathed the glorious arts and progressive sciences to religious bigots and fanatics, to trample under foot and burn--when, if a little bird sang overjoyously, they cut out his tongue for daring to be merry--in some lonely home by some stranger's hearth, a banished prince, called Charles Stuart, oft found an asylum of plenty and repose; and in your eyes, my Nell, I read the self-same, loyal, English heart.”
There was all the sadness of great music in his speech. Nell fell upon her knee, and kissed his hand, reverently.
”My King!” she said; and her voice trembled with pa.s.sionate love.
He raised her tenderly and kissed her upon the lips.
”My queen,” he said; and his voice too trembled with pa.s.sionate love.
”And Milton says that Paradise is lost,” whispered Nell. Her head rested on the King's shoulder. She looked up--the picture of perfect happiness--into his eyes.
”Not while Nell loves Charles,” he said.
”And Charles remembers Nell,” her voice answered, softly.
Meanwhile, the rotund landlord had entered un.o.bserved; and a contrast he made, indeed, to the endearing words of the lovers as at this instant he unceremoniously burst forth in guttural accents with:
”The bill! The bill for supper, sir!”
Nell looked at the King and the King looked at Nell; then both looked at the landlord. The lovers' sense of humour was boundless. That was their first tie; the second, their hearts.
”The bill!” repeated Nell, smothering a laugh. ”Yes, we were just speaking of the bill.”
”How opportune!” exclaimed Charles, taking the cue. ”We feared you would forget it, sirrah.”
”See that it is right,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Nell.
The King glanced at the bill indifferently, but still could not fail to see ”3 chickens” in unschooled hand. His eyes twinkled and he glanced at the landlord, but the latter avoided his look with a pretence of innocence.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DECEPTION.]
”Gad,” said Charles, with a swagger, ”what are a few extra s.h.i.+llings to Parliament? Here, my man.” He placed a hand in a pocket, but found it empty. ”No; it is in the other pocket.” He placed his hand in another, only to find it also empty. Then he went through the remaining pockets, one by one, turning them each out for inspection--his face a.s.suming an air of mirthful hopelessness as he proceeded. He had changed his garb for a merry lark, but had neglected to change his purse. ”Devil on't, I--have--forgotten--Odsfish, where is my treasurer?” he exclaimed at last.
”Your treasurer!” shrieked the landlord, who had watched Charles's search, with twitching eyes. ”Want your treasurer, do ye? Constable Swallow'll find him for ye. Constable Swallow! I knew you were a rascal, by your face.”
Charles laughed.
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