Portland smiled also; he was not satisfied; he stirred his cane among the scattered hawthorn flowers and his fair face hardened. After a little he asked his dismissal, and turned towards Kensington House. The King remained alone in the park, sitting a little droopingly; he hardly ever held himself erect now; he had shifted his sword-belt so that the weapon was across his knees, and he held pommel and point of the scabbard with his bare, delicate hands; his clothes were dark and plain; he wore high riding-boots and a beaver with a great plume of white feathers. So still he sat, and so shaded was his figure in the deep glowing shadow cast by the lime boughs of budding foliage, that a young man coming moodily along the path was upon him before he noticed that any sat there. "Ah, sire!" he exclaimed, in confusion, and pulled off his hat. William looked up at him; it was the Duke of Shrewsbury. "I am glad to see you, my lord. I wished to speak to you." "I was about to seek an audience of Your Majesty." Shrewsbury was in a painful agitation, further increased by this sudden meeting with the King, utterly unlooked for. It was rare to find William at leisure or on foot. The King’s deep eyes regarded him sadly and kindly. "Was it to a second time offer your resignation?" he asked. Shrewsbury went crimson under his powder; he seemed to find it difficult to maintain even a show of composure. "Yes, Your Majesty," he answered. "Very well," said William quietly. "I am sorry that you will not serve me till my return from Ireland." "Sire, my health," murmured the Duke faintly—"I have had a fall from my horse—I am not fit." Still holding his sword in both hands, the King rose. "My lord—is that your sole reason?" he asked gently. The blood ebbed from the young man’s soft face; he answered with an effort. "My sole reason, Your Majesty." William continued to fix his eyes on him. "My lord, when did you last see Roger Fuller?" Shrewsbury shivered; he stammered painfully. "I—I—do not know—the fellow——" "I take your word, my lord," said William gravely. He dropped his sword, and laid his hand with a gentle dignity on the young man’s heaving shoulder. "Remember I trust you," he added quietly. "Sir," cried Shrewsbury, through pale lips—"what is your meaning—do you think——" "I think that you are a man of honour," said William. "You have given me your word, and I trust you. Remember it." "Your Majesty," began the Duke wildly, "I never meant——" "Hush," interrupted the King. "I know nothing. Take care of your health, my lord." He touched his hat and moved on. The young Duke looked after him with eyes of agony, then stumbled wretchedly away through the trees. William proceeded slowly to the privy garden, which was full of stocks, pinks, wallflowers, aloes, and early roses.