“No such thing!” cried Gillian—­“the ceremony has only been half performed.  I am not married.  I am yours—­and yours only, dear, sweet Dickon.”

“You never shall be his—­you are mine—­” exclaimed the old usurer—­“I implore his Highness the Prince to let the marriage go forward.”

“Nay, I shall not allow any compulsion to be placed on the damsel’s inclinations,” replied Charles, unable to repress a smile.  “She must choose for herself.”

“In that case, your Highness, my choice is soon made,” replied Gillian, taking her lover’s hand.

“And honest Dickon need not be under any alarm at such part of the marriage as has already taken place,” observed De Gondomar.  “It has been a mock ceremonial throughout.  This is no priest, but one of my Lord of Buckingham’s grooms employed for the occasion.”

“Then I have been a dupe all this time!” cried Sir Francis furiously.  “O, purblind dolt that I am!”

But he met with no commiseration from the assemblage, who only laughed at his rage and absurd grimaces.

“Kneel and thank his Highness for his goodness,” said De Gondomar to the young couple; “and then, if he will give you leave to do so, depart at once.  Stay not a moment longer than you can help it in this house, or in the neighbourhood.”

“Most assuredly I will not, your Excellency,” returned Dick.  “It is much too near the Fleet to be agreeable to me.  I have to offer my heartfelt thanks to your Excellency for your kindly consideration of me, and I own that I have scarcely deserved it at your hands.”

“Render your thanks, as I have said, to his Highness, who is alone entitled to them, good fellow,” said the Ambassador.  “Take Gillian home to her grandsire—­and wed her as soon as you can.  She will need no dowry,” he added in a low tone—­“for she is already provided with thirty thousand marks.”

“Honestly come by, I hope, your Excellency?” inquired Dick.

“Ay, ay—­thou suspicious blockhead.  Do as I have bidden thee, and get hence.  More remains to be done to which thou art a hindrance.”

On this, the young couple prostrated themselves before Prince Charles, who graciously gave his hand to Gillian to kiss, and then motioning them to rise, they were allowed to quit the room.

Luke Hatton saw them safe out of the house, and very well it was he accompanied them, for they had many obstacles to encounter.  Before quitting them, the apothecary delivered up the silver casket to Dick, bidding him take good care of it, as it contained his intended wife’s dowry.

Meanwhile, Sir Giles Mompesson, who had with difficulty controlled his impatience during the incidents previously described, advanced towards Prince Charles, and with a profound reverence, said—­“Will it please your Highness to terminate this idle scene, which, though apparently amusing to the company assembled, is by no means so entertaining to Sir Francis and myself?”