With a little cry, she thrust him from her and burst out of his arms. Involuntarily her frightened eyes fell on the sleeper in the bed. He slept no more. He lay with his eyes riveted on the King, who had his back towards him. He lay as weak and helpless as a child from the effects of his malady; but his hands were clenched on the coverlet, his white cheeks gleamed, his eyes blazed. He strove impotently to rise from his pillows, but fell back upon them gasping for breath.
The distinct sounds of his struggle were heard by the King. He desisted from his absorbing occupation, and turned round to discover their cause.
“Ha! Farnham,” he said, coolly, “so you are awake at last. I have heard of that little affair of the bullet. I must, indeed, rejoice with you that you have struggled so valiantly against its effects; I am overjoyed, my dear Farnham, to find you so far recovered.”
The unhappy husband could not repress his fury. Again he strove to rise from his bed, and again he fell back, this time with a sob of anguish, upon his pillows. The King’s smile grew more serene.
“There—there, my dear Farnham,” said the even, gracious tones of Charles; “be wary, I pray you. Be discreet. I am sure you are not yet strong enough to leave your bed to greet me; I beg you not to think of doing so. Why, man, my lady tells me ’tis a miracle that thou art alive.”
The poor husband was unable to speak; rage and his weakness rendered him inarticulate.
The King continued to smile upon him with a gracious insouciance that maddened more than it soothed.
“There, there, my dear Farnham,” he said, “do not attempt to converse. I am sure you are far too weak as yet to regale us with your talk. Do not try, I pray you. I am sure madam will entertain us admirably in the meantime.”
It may have been that the unhappy young man discerned an underlying irony in the King’s words which, superadded to the burning sense of humiliation he had already suffered at his hands, turned his blood to fire; for at least the King’s smooth sarcasm spurred him at last to find his tongue.
“Sire,” he said, weakly, “methinks my family merits some little consideration at your hands. They have served you long and faithfully, and your father also. I beg you, Sire, to forgive my mentioning their trifling claims upon your gratitude, but I would crave a boon.”