“I must go to the Queen,” she answered hurriedly. “Oh, your Majesty, your Majesty,” she repeated, “would you ruin me?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Until the Queen welcomed me here I have had nothing but sorrow. I am friendless and alone.” “No, no,” said Charles, kindly, “not alone while Charles is King in England.” “I am little more than an orphan here,” she said, “for my father is now only a common soldier, your Majesty, and--” “A common soldier!” repeated Charles a little stiffly; “they told me he was a gentleman of England doing service in Italy.” “My father is in your Majesty’s household guard,” she answered. “He was John Enderby--alas! none would recognise him now as such.” The King stared at her a moment. “You--you--Mistress--you are John Enderby’s daughter?” Her reply was scarce above a whisper. “His only child, Sir.” “Upon my soul! Upon my soul!” was all Charles said for a moment, and then he added: “Why did you not speak before?” “My father would not permit me, your Majesty. He is only returned to England these few months.” “He is here to--?” “To be near to myself, Sir.” The King bowed low over her hand. “Mistress Enderby,” said he, frankly, “we are honoured by your presence in this place. To-morrow morning at eleven your father shall come to us. You are still but a child in face,” he said; “and yet--eh?” “I am twenty-seven years old,” she answered frankly. “Quite old enough to be a countess,” he said charmingly, “and young enough to enjoy the honours thereof.” So saying he bowed again, and with a gracious smile dismissed her. She went so quickly that she did not see two gentlemen almost at her elbow as she left the gallery. One of them was Lord Rippingdale. “Ha,” said my lord, with a wicked smile, “a new violet in the King’s garden!” His companion turned on him swiftly. “My lord,” said he, “this is the second time to-day you have slandered this lady.” The other lifted his eyebrows. “Is it a slander to say that the King finds a lady charming at any hour o’ the clock?” he rejoined. Sir Richard slapped him across the cheek with his glove. “I take a pleasant duty from John Enderby’s shoulders, my lord. I will meet you at your pleasure.” The next morning at sunrise Lord Rippingdale declared with his last breath that he did not know the lady was John Enderby’s daughter, and he begged Sir Richard to carry to Enderby his regret for all past wrongs. Sir Richard came in upon the King at the moment that his Majesty was receiving John Enderby--a whiteheaded old man, yet hale and strong, and wearing the uniform of the King’s Guard. The fire of Enderby’s eye was not quenched. The King advanced towards him, and said: “You are welcome to our Court, Squire Enderby. You have been absent too long. You will honour us by accepting a tardy justice--without a price,” he added, in a low tone. “Your Majesty,” said Enderby, “for me justice comes too late, but for my child--”