“I should wonder if it had,” rejoined Charles, gallantly.  “I will not contradict you, my lord,” said Amabel; “it is possible you may have loved me, though I find it difficult to reconcile your professions of regard with your conduct—­but this is not to the purpose.  Whether you loved me or not, I loved you—­deeply and devotedly.  There is no sacrifice I would not have made for him,” she continued, turning to the king, “and influenced by these feelings, and deluded by false promises, I forgot my duty, and was rash enough to quit my home with him.”

“All this I have heard, sweetheart,” replied Charles.  “There is nothing very remarkable in it.  It is the ordinary course of such affairs.  I am happy to be the means of restoring your lover to you, and, in fact, came hither for that very purpose.”

“You mistake me, my liege,” replied Amabel.  “I do not desire to have him restored to me.  Fortunately for myself, I have succeeded in mastering my love for him.  The struggle has well-nigh cost me my life—­but I have conquered.”

“I have yet to learn, sweetheart,” observed Charles, with an incredulous look, “that woman’s love, if deeply fixed, can be subdued.”

“If I had not been supported by religion, my liege, I could not have subdued it,” rejoined Amabel “Night and day, I have passed in supplicating the Great Power that implanted this fatal passion in my breast, and, at length, my prayers have prevailed.”

“Aha! we have a devotee here!” thought Charles.  “Am I to understand, fair saint, that you would reject the earl, if he were to offer you his hand?” he asked.

“Unquestionably,” replied Amabel, firmly.

“This is strange,” muttered Charles.  “The girl is evidently in earnest.  What says your lordship?” he added to Rochester.

“That she shall be mine, whether she loves me or not,” replied the earl.  “My pride is piqued to the conquest.”

“No wonder!—­the resistless Rochester flouted by a grocer’s daughter.  Ha! ha!” observed Charles, laughing, while the rest of the courtiers joined in his merriment.

“Oh! sire,” exclaimed Amabel, throwing herself at the king’s feet, and bursting into tears, “do not abandon me, I beseech you.  I cannot requite the earl’s attachment—­and shall die if he continues his pursuit.  Command him—­oh! command him to desist.”

“I fear you have not dealt fairly with me, sweetheart,” said the king.  “There is a well-favoured youth without, whom the earl pointed out as your father’s apprentice.  Have you transferred your affections to him?”

“Your majesty has solved the enigma,” observed Rochester, bitterly.

“You wrong me, my lord,” replied Amabel.  “Leonard Holt is without.  Let him be brought into the royal presence and interrogated; and if he will affirm that I have given him the slightest encouragement by look or word, or even state that he himself indulges a hope of holding a place in my regards, I will admit there is some foundation for the charge.  I pray your majesty to send for him.”