“Enter,” said the frank voice of the King. “If it please your Majesty and your lordship and your ladyship,” said the landlord, putting his nose on his belly again, deeming that etiquette demanded it of him, “there is here a sailor-man to see my lord.” “Let us have a look at him,” said the King, scenting some little diversion. “Which be my Lord Farnham, mate?” said the mariner, addressing the King bluffly. He was a plain man himself, and the landlord’s elaborate flummeries rather increased the directness of his manners. “The pale gentleman lying in his bed,” said the King. “Are you the master of the little vessel that Colonel Phelips promised to engage for my lord?” asked Lady Farnham. “Ay, ay, ma’am,” said the mariner. “She’ve been lying three days past in Pyler’s Cove, a short sea-mile up the beach. When I was here a day or so agone, ye hadn’t touched this port. I should ha’ come last night again, but we couldn’t ha’ put to sea in sich a gale as that.” “I was expecting you anxiously,” said Lady Farnham. “Indeed, so anxious did I become, that in the middle of the night I went forth to seek you, but saw you not.” “I daresay I was under hatches then,” said the sailor. “But to-night at ten o’clock the wind and tide should be fair enough. We can get off then.” A great hope suddenly beaconed in the woman’s face. “Oh! if you can, good sailor,” she exclaimed, impulsively, “I shall never be able to requite you.” Even as she spoke, however, there came a thought that dashed it to the earth. There was her husband. He was too weak to move. “My lord is stricken,” she said. “He cannot walk a step. What is to be done, good sailor?” The mariner scratched his head. “Don’t ye fret about that, ma’am,” he said. “Diggory Fargus hath run too many cargoes in precarious plazen to be beat by a thing like that. I’ll bring three o’ my mates along wi’ a litter, at half-past nine o’ the clock. We should be able to bear the gentleman easy if we takes our time.” “It is well thought on,” said the King. “At half-past nine of the clock then, good sailor,” said the lady, fervently. “And may God requite you for your services. We will be in readiness.” Diggory Fargus pulled his forelock and went downstairs in the company of the nervous landlord. “Oh, Sire,” said the poor lady--the tears were come into her eyes,--“it is indeed a providence that the sailor is here at such a time. Wilt thou not come with us, too? Something clearly told me that if you spent this night, Sire, under this roof, you would be ta’en.” “Madam, you are more than kind,” said the King, complaisantly. “We will consider it. Although we think we must not disappoint our other friends. They, too, have a boat chartered for us somewhere. But we shall see. On the one hand is our duty; on the other, our inclination.” There was no misreading the lustre in the King’s face. [Illustration: CHAPTER XIII _The Soldiers_]