"How tall you have grown. You have the stature of a goddess," he cried with rapture; and then in a tone full of seriousness he added,
"You are my mate. You are the only woman I can ever love. I vow that you shall be my princess, or I will die unmarried for your sake."
For a little while their conversation was purely personal, but their own interests were so blent with public affairs that it was not possible to separate them for any length of time.
"We have sold all our cargoes," he said triumphantly, "in spite of old Cromwell's remonstrances. Mazarin helped us, and the money is distributed. What can Cromwell do? Will he go to war with France for a merchant's bill of lading? The King and the Cardinal laugh at his demands. He is an insolent fellow. Does he think he can match his Eminence? But, this or that, the money is scattered to the four quarters of the world. Let him recover it."
"I will tell you something, Rupert. I had a letter to-day from my friend, Mistress Jane Swaffham. She says her lover, Lord Cluny Neville, must be in Paris about this time, and that he will call on me. He is on Cromwell's business; there is no doubt of it."
"Do you wish to see the man?"
"No. He has stolen my brother's mistress. He has done Stephen a great wrong; and he is also full of perfections. A very sufficient youth in his own opinion, and much honoured and trusted by his Excellency, the Lord General Cromwell."
She spoke with evident scorn, and Rupert said, "I shall have to reckon with him. Stephen's wrongs are my wrongs. Is the lady fair and rich?"
"'Tis thought so. I once loved her."
"And now, you love her not; eh, sweetheart?"