"He is honest as the daylight!" I cried. "He has but wronged the seeming of his honor for another—and that other without fault but in appearance—as my father now makes plain to His Highness."
"Indeed, Mistress Drayton," he replied, speaking with a gentleness well-nigh tender, "I do hope he may." And with that he turned from me as if to rejoin His Highness. But I summoned all my daring to make a plea yet more fully feminine, being much emboldened thereto by the softness of his last words.
"Mr. Bentinck, Mr. Bentinck," I whispered eagerly, and he turned again. "Captain Royston and I were to be wed, if—if—" said I, and could say no more.
"Ah," said he, "if what?"
"If you—if His Highness destroy us not utterly," I replied. "Grant us your aid, Mr. Bentinck." And into these words I put, I do suppose, much prayerfulness of face, voice, and gesture. For he looked a moment very kindly on the clasped hands and streaming eyes that begged his help.
"Do not weep, mistress," he said. "You shall have all I may give," and so turned his back upon me.
And here the Prince came a little toward me. "It is truly a tale of romance, Sir Michael," he said. "Here was I vainly seeking the serpent, and, lo! there is none but Eve." And then to me: "Come hither, Mistress Eve," he said. So I went over to him, and made before him a courtesy very deep and humble. "I do like you better thus, child," he went on, "than booted and spurred. Is this a true history that I hear?"
"So please Your Highness," I answered, "'t is true as the Gospel."
"How so?" he asked, smiling. "You have not heard it."
"But it was my father," said I, "that told it."