"I did not expect this sudden summons, I confess, Mr. Whitgreave," rejoined the king; "and I need not say it is far from agreeable to me. But I have no option. From the appearance of those two spies I am convinced that my retreat has been discovered, and if Colonel Lane had not come for me, I should have deemed it prudent, to leave before daybreak. I hope you will not suffer for the devotion you have shown me. But I shall ever remain your debtor." Then, turning to Father Huddlestone, he added, "it might be enough for me to tell you that I shall always think the better of your religion since I have seen how well you practise it, but when I reflect on the many good and faithful subjects you have brought me in these evil times, when almost every hand is raised against me, I feel that I should be ungrateful if I did not say how deeply I am beholden to you. You have made the Penderels what they are, and what I have found them--the truest men living." "Through Heaven's grace I have made them what they ought to be, my liege," said Father Huddlestone. "I have always striven against those who have sought to overthrow the throne. It is possible that Heaven may have further trials in store for your majesty, to which I earnestly exhort you to submit with patience, but I feel assured that in due season you will be amply rewarded. Place your trust in Heaven, sire, and you will be delivered from your enemies. It may be long ere you regain your kingdom, but the day _will_ come--provided you are true to Heaven. Forsake not God, and you shall not be forsaken!" Charles remained silent for a few moments, and then said in a low tone: "I will strive to follow your counsel, father." The king was still pondering on what had been said to him, when Mrs. Whitgreave, bearing a taper, entered the room. Robed in white, and looking excessively pale, she looked like an apparition. Advancing to meet her, Charles said: "I should have been sorry to quit Moseley Hall without bidding you adieu, madam, but I trust you have not been disturbed from your slumbers on my account." "I keep long vigils, sire, and often pass the greater part of the night in prayer," she replied. "When my son tapped at my door just now to inform me that your majesty was about to depart, I was praying for your safety." "I thank you, madam," replied the king, much moved. "The prayers of so excellent a lady must avail me." "If I live to see your majesty restored to your kingdom, I shall have lived long enough. Here is a little relic," she said, offering him a small silver box. "I dare say your majesty has no faith in such things--nevertheless, I pray you to wear it." "I will wear it for your sake, madam," he rejoined, taking the little silver box, "and I shall have no doubt of its efficacy." Charles would then have taken leave of the loyal-hearted dame, but she besought permission to attend him to the outer door.