"It is, indeed, a disgusting affair," replied Sir Harry West. "My Lord, I wonder if his Majesty would object to that window being opened, for the lady is faint with the heat, and the King himself looks over warm." "Oh no," exclaimed Lord Rochester, "I will open it in a minute, and give Solomon some air. Would your Majesty be pleased to let in a little of the breath of heaven," he continued, moving to the King's chair, "for it seems we have too much of the breath of earth here." "Well flavoured with sack and canary," answered the King, "but we'll soon get out of the _hotter_. Don't you see, Peace and Plenty are retreating in confusion? and, methinks, it will be wise to go out upon the terrace, and refresh ourselves in the evening air. The moon is shining, is it not? Give me your arm, Carro. I-fegs, though our head be as strong as that of most folk, the good wine of my Lord of Salisbury is well nigh as much as we can carry." The King and Queen then rose; and, according to the proposal of James, the whole party issued forth into the wide ornamented grounds--with one exception. Arabella Stuart, whispering to Anne of Denmark that she was somewhat faint, but would rejoin her in a few minutes, darted away to her own room, where, casting herself on her knees beside her bed, she hid her face upon her hands, and prayed. Her prayers were not unmingled with tears, however; and when she rose, her eyes were red. "They may see that I have been weeping," she said to herself, "and I may as well put a mask upon my face as upon my heart. There will be others in similar guise;" and taking up the rarely-used black velvet mask which lay upon her dressing table, she hurried down by the small staircase, which led from her apartments, to rejoin the Queen on the terrace. At the foot of the stairs, close to the doorway by which she was going out, stood a tall and graceful figure leaning against the pillar. He drew a step back as she approached, with a cold and respectful air. But Arabella suddenly stopped, exclaiming, "Seymour! Do you not know me?" and she put up her hand to remove her mask. "Nay, nay," he said, stopping her; "I know you right well, sweet lady,--no mask can hide Arabella from William Seymour." "Then what is the matter?" she asked, in surprise; "why did you not let me know that you were returned from exile?" "Better, perhaps, not have returned at all," replied Seymour, in a grave tone. "Oh, Seymour!" exclaimed Arabella. But at that moment, a door on the other side of the passage opened, giving admission to some servants carrying plates and dishes from the banqueting room; and Arabella, fearful of being recognised, hurried forward, and joined the Queen upon the terrace.