"Methinks this might be the garden of the Hesperides," said Newcastle presently. "See how bright the gilded light falleth, how gently move the dappled deer, and how softly all the little leaves quiver. And all the young clouds that come abroad are soft as a lady's veil."
"It were good to die in such a place, at such an hour, if God gave us any choice," said Charles. "For one could think, in such a moment, that it was well to leave all sordid things and let the soul leap into the sunset sky as gladly as the body leapeth in cool water on a dusty day. But we must live and endure bloody times—and may the angels give us constancy!"
As he spoke he idly turned and saw, coming towards him, one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber.
He stood still.
"This is some news," he said. "Go forward, my lord,"—touching Lord Digby on the arm—"and ask."
He had become notably pale, and he looked down at the roses on his shoes and put his hand to his side as the two gentlemen came up to him.
Momentous news had arrived at last: one of Rupert's troopers had brought a dispatch from that Prince, and within a few minutes of him had come a Captain of some Irish who had been with Montrose.
He brought no dispatch; he had made his way with danger, difficulty, and great delay from Scotland. His news was put in a few words, but they were words which Lord Digby could scarcely stammer to the pale King.
"There is news come, sir—that David Leslie——"
"A battle," asked Charles, swiftly looking up. "There hath been a battle?"