She was dressed in violet and silver, and wore a great Indian scarf about her shoulders as if it were cold, instead of August. "I have been too employed to wait on your ladyship," answered Portland. She took no notice of that, but said abruptly— "How did you leave the King?" "As much at ease as a man in his position could be," said the Earl grimly. Lady Orkney did not look at Portland, but rather absently down the room. "He must be fairly weary of it all," she replied. "Do you think," she added rather sharply, "he hath recovered from the death of the Queen?" "No, madam, nor will he ever," said my lord sternly. "How you dislike me!" cried Lady Orkney softly. "And I would have been a good friend to you if you would have let me—believe me"—she looked at him full now—"I would never do an ill turn to one of the King’s friends." "What is this, madam?" he asked haughtily. "Oh, you understand," she answered. "You know that M. van Keppel is a friend of mine, and you have tried to do him ill offices—I tell you that you have no cause—Joost van Keppel will harm nobody. Let him be." Portland was silent in sheer disdain. Elizabeth Villiers fixed him with her queer eyes; her pronounced cast was very noticeable. "You should not dislike me," she said, "because I sometimes help the King—Joost van Keppel will help him too, even in such follies as courtesy and an obliging temper—a sweet reverence might mean much to a broken man—consider that, my lord." He answered brusquely. "I consider that Joost van Keppel is a worthless young rake-hell, and that those who push him into His Majesty’s favour can have only mean motives." "You certainly do not understand," she said quietly. A sudden thought flashed to Portland. "Was it you, my lady," he asked, "who put Sunderland to bring van Keppel forward with his tale of Namur when the King was sick?" "Have you only just guessed it?" she answered. "I might have known it was a woman’s trick," he said bitterly. "What made you think of such a device?" She smiled and made no answer. "And why did you employ M. van Keppel?" added Portland. "Because," said Lady Orkney, "he was of the age the King’s son might have been." Portland stared. "A woman’s trick, you see." She smiled. "Women think of these things—do not consider me as a vulgar intriguer, even if you cannot understand, and let M. van Keppel be—I think he will console the King a little." "I, at least, am above your devices and those of my Lord Sunderland," he answered roughly. Lady Orkney replied, still smiling, but with infinite sadness— "Could you see into my heart you would know that I am not so happy but that you might spare me." She gave a little courtsey and left him. He watched her return to the window and look out at the alleys and parterres of the privy garden.