The King was alert in an instant. He felt that he had placed himself in a false light. He loved the witch above despite himself.
“I saw thee twa evenings ago, lass,” he hastily asserted, in good Scotch accents, somewhat impatiently.
“And is not that a long time, Sire,” questioned Nell, “or did Portsmouth make it fly?”
“Portsmouth!” exclaimed Charles. He turned his face away. “Can it be my conscience pricks me?” he thought. “You know more of her than I, sweet Nell,” he then asserted, with open manner.
“Marry, I know her not at all and never saw her,” said Nell. “I shall feel better when I do,” she thought.
“It were well for England’s peace you have not met,” laughed Charles.
“Faith and troth,” said Nell, “I am happy to know our King has lost his heart.”
“Odso! And why?” asked Charles; and he gazed at Nell in his curious uncertain way, as he thought it was never possible to tell quite what she meant or what she next would think or say or do.
“We feared he had not one to lose,” she slyly suggested. “It gives us hope.”
“To have it in another’s hand as you allege?” asked Charles.