The Prince assented, on which De Gondomar signed to Luke Hatton, who seemed waiting for the order, and, disappearing for a moment, returned with the apprentice.
Though evidently prepared for the scene that awaited him, and not overburthened with modesty, Dick Taverner could not help exhibiting considerable confusion; but the sight of his mistress somewhat restored him, and he pressed towards her. Sir Francis, however, stepped between them, exclaiming—"Get hence, base varlet—she is my wife."
"No such thing!" cried Gillian—"the ceremony has only been half performed. I am not married. I am yours—and yours only, dear, sweet Dickon."
"You never shall be his—you are mine—" exclaimed the old usurer—"I implore his Highness the Prince to let the marriage go forward."
"Nay, I shall not allow any compulsion to be placed on the damsel's inclinations," replied Charles, unable to repress a smile. "She must choose for herself."
"In that case, your Highness, my choice is soon made," replied Gillian, taking her lover's hand.
"And honest Dickon need not be under any alarm at such part of the marriage as has already taken place," observed De Gondomar. "It has been a mock ceremonial throughout. This is no priest, but one of my Lord of Buckingham's grooms employed for the occasion."
"Then I have been a dupe all this time!" cried Sir Francis furiously. "O, purblind dolt that I am!"
But he met with no commiseration from the assemblage, who only laughed at his rage and absurd grimaces.
"Kneel and thank his Highness for his goodness," said De Gondomar to the young couple; "and then, if he will give you leave to do so, depart at once. Stay not a moment longer than you can help it in this house, or in the neighbourhood."