On entering the room, Amabel at once discovered the king.  He was habited in a magnificent riding-dress and was seated on a rich fauteuil, around which were grouped a dozen gaily-attired courtiers.  Amongst these were the Earl of Rochester and Sir George Etherege.  As Amabel advanced, glances of insolent curiosity were directed towards her, and Rochester, stepping forward, offered to lead her to the king.  She, however, declined the attention.  Greatly mortified, the earl would have seized her hand; but there was so much dignity in her deportment, so much coldness in her looks, that in spite of his effrontery, he felt abashed.  Charles smiled at his favourite’s rebuff, but, in common with the others, he could not help being struck by Amabel’s extraordinary beauty and natural dignity, and he observed, in an under-tone, to Etherege, “Is it possible this can be a grocer’s daughter?”

“She passes for such, my liege,” replied Etherege, with a smile.  “But I cannot swear to her parentage.”

“Since I have seen her, I do not wonder at Rochester’s extravagant passion,” rejoined the monarch.  “But, odds fish! she seems to care little for him.”

Having approached within a short distance of the king, Amabel would have prostrated herself before him, but he prevented her.

“Nay, do not kneel, sweetheart,” he said, “I am fully satisfied of your loyalty, and never exact homage from one of your sex, but, on the contrary, am ever ready to pay it.  I have heard much of your attractions, and, what is seldom the case in such matters, find they have not been overrated.  The brightest of our court beauties cannot compare with you.”

“A moment ago, the fair Amabel might be said to lack bloom,” observed Etherege; “but your majesty’s praises have called a glowing colour to her cheek.”

“Would you deign to grant me a moment’s hearing, my liege?” said Amabel, looking steadfastly at the king.

“Not a moment’s hearing merely, sweetheart,” returned Charles; “but an hour’s, if you list.  I could dwell on the music of your tones for ever.”

“I thank your majesty for your condescension,” she replied; “but I will not long trespass on your patience.  What I have to say concerns the Earl of Rochester.”

“Stand forward, my lord,” said Charles to the earl, “and let us hear what complaint is to be made against you.”

Rochester advanced, and threw a passionate and half-reproachful glance at Amabel.

“It may be improper for me to trouble your majesty on so light a matter,” said Amabel; “but your kindness emboldens me to speak unreservedly.  You may be aware that this nobleman once entertained, or feigned to entertain, an ardent attachment to me.”

“I need scarcely assure you, my liege,” interposed Rochester, “that it was no feigned passion.  And it is needless to add, that however ardently I felt towards my fair accuser then, my passion has in nowise abated.”