"'Tis fortunate," said the irrepressible Earl of Dorset, "that so fair a damsel as his daughter is scarce like to wear it to the end of her days."
"Nay," said the king, holding up a rebukeful finger at the earl, as he noted Lee's flushing cheek, and the ill-pleased gnawing of his nether lip; "that quite clearly concerns not our deciding; for here we have, it seems, a question of treason, and this pretty Mistress—Mistress—"
Sorry jesting.
"Ruth," said Lee in a low tone; "Ruth is her Christian name."
"I' faith! and such a sweet one, too, that it covers all the sinning of her father's—"
Lee started. "I said not—"
"You interrupt," smiled the king; "'twould go hard indeed for us all if fair Mistress Ruth should prove traitress."
"Your majesty has not a loyaller heart in all your kingdom than Ruth Rumbold," said Lee, conquering down his agitation.
"Say you so?" merrily returned the king; "then with such fair ladies for our champions, how can we fear the blackest treason in all Hertforshire? Here we have valiant Mistress Sheppard on one side of the road, and the loyal Mistress of the Rye House on the other—"
"Nay, be serious, Charles," frowned the duke, out of all patience at his brother's levity.