Charles rose to his feet, flawlessly courteous, much wondering.
“How did you come here, mistress?” he asked, and she sighed at the tired sound of his voice. “I understood from Sir Rufus that you were for the time—”
He paused, and Brilliana calmly finished the sentence.
“Confined to my apartments. Yes, that was Rufus’s plan. But though Rufus calls himself captain of this castle he does not know it so well as I do. There are ways of getting hither and thither that he does not dream of.”
“You are a determined young woman,” the King said, with a faint smile, “if you think so lightly of the privacy of your King.”
Brilliana flung herself on her knees in a moment, her hands clasped, her eyes shining with honest tears.
“Your Majesty!” she cried; “your Majesty, I would never have dared this if I were not a woman very deep in love, if my lover were not in danger, and if—”
She paused.
“And if?” Charles echoed, his fine, irresolute face neither smiling nor frowning. “Finish your sentence, lady.”