sparkling eyes, "and I cannot but rejoice in the kind favour he has been pleased to show me; yet with all my love for him, I cannot but see the weak and unstable side of his nature, and feel that in time of peril I might have too true cause to echo the words of the Psalmist--'Put not your trust in princes.'" "Now I like you not!" cried Primrose, "for thus taking away your sovereign's character! Methinks you can but love him with half a heart, an you will not trust him!" "Nay, I feel nought but love and loyalty to him," answered the chaplain, "and will die willingly for him, an the day come when I must needs choose betwixt him and his enemies. Yet I cannot but grieve over those faults which, as a king, do plainly show themselves in him, and which, I fear me, may, in spite of his soul's true goodness, bring him one day to much evil. Think not too hardly of me, I pray you, fair mistress, for thus openly speaking my mind! I do assure you I would not so speak of my loved king to any one in whom I did not place the fullest confidence--such as, pardon me, your face bids me, at this our first meeting, place in you." "You do me too much honour, good sir," answered Primrose, drooping her head to hide the swift blush of shy pleasure which dyed her cheeks at such words from her ideal knight. "And I will not again doubt your true love for his Majesty. Mine were but idle words, and you must pardon their folly, for I trow we women are wont to worship our heroes in more unjudging a fashion than you men, who have a sterner and wiser judgment, and a more just weighing of merits and follies. We will think no ill of them, nor see their faults, until they deceive us, which may perchance be sad unwisdom, yet, methinks, is woman's nature." "I would fain not suffer any words of mine to destroy by one jot your faith and loyalty," said Master Vere earnestly. "Since we men must needs do battle against the ugly things of life, and drag them forth to light that we may the sooner o'ermaster them, it is surely well that there are ever hands ready to bury them out of sight, and shroud them gently with tender touch and guileless thought. Suffer me to guide you across these rude stepping-stones, for the river is swollen and rough to-day, and their surface offers but treacherous hold to the foot."