The suspense became intense.
“The day of reckoning’s come,” thought Nell, as she met with burning glances the Duchess’s eyes.
“Speak, your grace,” exhorted Buckingham. “The King attends you.”
“Nay, before all, my lord?” protested Portsmouth, with pretended delicacy. “I could not do Madame Gwyn so much injustice.”
“If your speech concerns me,” observed Nell, mildly, “out with it boldly. My friends will consider the source.”
“Speak, and quickly!” commanded Charles.
“I would rather lose my tongue,” still protested the Duchess, “than speak such words of any one; but my duty to your Majesty–”
“No preludes,” interrupted the King; and he meant it, too. He was done with trifling, and the Duchess saw it.
“My servants,” she said, with a virtuous look, “passing this abode by chance, this very night, saw at a questionable hour a strange cavalier entering the boudoir of Madame Gwyn!”
“She would make my honour the price of her revenge,” thought Nell, her eyes flashing. “She shall rue those words, or Adair’s head and mine are one for naught.”