His brow darkened into a stern, grave expression, so entirely in earnest, that Charles, though making no answer, could not do otherwise than feel compliance unavoidable. Charles had never been so entirely conquered, yet, strange to say, he was not, as usual, rendered sullen.

At night, when Guy had taken him to his room, he paused and said--'You are sure that you have forgiven me?'

'What! You have not forgotten that yet?' said Charles.

'Of course not.'

'I am sorry you bear so much malice,' said Charles, smiling.

'What are you imagining?' cried Guy. 'It was my own part I was remembering, as I must, you know.'

Charles did not choose to betray that he did not see the necessity.

'I thought King Charles's wrongs were rankling. I only spoke as taking liberties with a friend.'

'Yes,' said Guy, thoughtfully, 'it may be foolish, but I do not feel as if one could do so with King Charles. He is too near home; he suffered to much from scoffs and railings; his heart was too tender, his repentance too deep for his friends to add one word even in jest to the heap of reproach. How one would have loved him!' proceeded Guy, wrapped up in his own thoughts,--'loved him for the gentleness so little accordant with the rude times and the part he had to act--served him with half like a knight's devotion to his lady-love, half like devotion to a saint, as Montrose did-'Great, good, and just, could I but rate My grief, and thy too rigid fate, I'd weep the world in such a strain, As it should deluge once again.'

'And, oh!' cried he, with sudden vehemence, 'how one would have fought for him!'

'You would!' said Charles. 'I should like to see you and Deloraine charging at the head of Prince Rupert's troopers.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Guy, suddenly recalled, and colouring deeply; 'I believe I forgot where I was, and have treated you to one of my old dreams in my boatings at home. You may quiz me as much as you please tomorrow. Good night.'

'It was a rhapsody!' thought Charles; 'yes it was. I wonder I don't laugh at it; but I was naturally carried along. Fancy that! He did it so naturally; in fact, it was all from the bottom of his heart, and I could not quiz him--no, no more than Montrose himself. He is a strange article! But he keeps one awake, which is more than most people do!'




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