"Yes, let the news wait," he said, and rose. "If this was known in London what would they say?" broke out Portland. "How can it be known in London when I have none here but friends?" answered the King. "I thank Your Majesty for including me with M. van Keppel as your friend," flashed Portland. The King looked at him sharply, then from one man to another. "Mynheer van Keppel," he said, "you will return to M. de Bavaria and tell him to be in readiness for a message from us." The officer bowed with great deference and sweetness to his master and the Earl, and instantly retired. "Will you not read those letters?" asked Portland, in no way appeased. William gave him a glance between reproach and wonder, broke the seals, and looked over the letters. "Nothing," he said, when he laid them down, "save that some sugar ships from Barbadoes have been taken by the French, that there is great uneasiness on the Stock Exchange." "Nothing of M. de Leeds?" asked Portland. "No," said the King; he was standing up and his gentleman buckled him into his light cuirass; "but I will not have him touched—he is punished enough." He added, with some contempt, "Is Leeds so much worse than the herd that he should be hunted from it?" "A corrupt man," answered Portland gloomily; "but you were always tender with him." William was silent. His obligation to Leeds consisted entirely of that nobleman’s devotion to the Queen; he thought that Portland knew this and despised him for such sentiment in politics. Neither spoke any more on the subject. "M. Montague is a clever man," remarked the King, after a little; "another pensioner of my Lord Dorset. How goeth the other, your secretary?" "Ah, Prior," replied the Earl, "well enough, but I think him an atheist. His poetry is full of heathen gods, and when I probed him on the subject he was not satisfactory in his answers, but well enough." "Put my Lord Sarum on to converting him," said William drily; "but I should not take much account of his poetry." The King’s gentleman went into the back part of the tent and Portland instantly addressed his master with great heat. "Sir, I must tell you that it is a source of great wonder to all that you should so encourage, favour, and caress a worthless young rake like M. van Keppel—a mere hanger-on to court favour; your dignity suffers by it——" The King interrupted. "Are you jealous—you—of him?" he asked mournfully. "I have enough to make me jealous," was the hot answer, "when I see the creature of such as my Lord Sunderland creep into your affections." The King answered in gentle, dignified tones, without a touch of anger or resentment— "You are indeed wrong. I like M. van Keppel for himself—I find him sweet and intelligent, a willing servant—and I have not too many. But you know, even while you speak, that nothing could come between me and you."