“A man’s love leads only one way—to one woman! And in this particular case that woman is—Lotys!” she said, with a little musing scorn, as of herself,—“Strange!”
She laid her hand on the bell which at a touch would summon back her lady-in-waiting. “You have served me well, Sir Roger, albeit somewhat roughly——”
He gave a low exclamation of regret.
“Roughly, Madam?”
A smile, sudden and sweet, which transfigured her usually passionless features into an almost angelic loveliness, lit up her mouth and eyes.
“Yes—roughly! But no matter! I pardon you freely! Good-night!”
“Good-night to your Majesty!” And as he stepped backward from her presence, she rang for Teresa, who at once entered.
“Our excommunication from the Church sits lightly upon us, Sir Roger, does it not?” said the Queen then, almost playfully; “You must know that we say our prayers as of old, and we still believe God hears us!”
“Surely, Madam,” he replied, “God must hear all prayers when they are pure and honest!”
“Truly, I think so,” she responded, laying one hand tenderly on Teresa’s hair, as the girl caressingly knelt beside her. “And—so, despite lack of priestcraft,—we shall continue to pray,—in these uncertain and dangerous times,—that all may be well for the country,—the people, and—the King! Good-night!”