“Ay,” rejoined Osmond to Sir Giles.  “Look on me if you can.  Never should my name have been revealed to you, except at a moment when there should have been no chance of its repetition, on your part, but for my brother’s will, of the existence of which I have only been lately aware, and which has obliged me to avow myself.  But for this, I would have remained for ever in obscurity, and have perished as I have lived—­the despised Clement Lanyere.  The name of Mounchensey should not have been shamed in me.  But if I am the reproach of that ancient and honourable house—­untarnished by any other member of it—­I am also its avenger, and will wipe out effectually the stains you have cast upon it.  By your machinations, villain, was my brother destroyed—­by your machinations has his son been imprisoned, and his life endangered—­by your machinations I myself was censured by the terrible Star-Chamber, and its severest punishments inflicted upon me.  You knew not whom you tortured; and had you been aware of my real name, even this wrong might not have contented you.  But no matter.  From the hour when the tormentor, by your order, did his work upon me, I devoted myself to vengeance—­slow, sure vengeance.  I resolved not to interfere with your career of villany till you were full-blown in crime; and though I have had some difficulty in holding back my hand, I have been patient.  The hour at length has arrived, and I hold you firmly in my grasp.  I have crushed in pieces the whole of the fabric you have been at such pains to rear.  Your estates and all your possessions will be forfeited to the Crown; and, if you escape with life, you will bear the indelible marks of disgrace which you have inflicted upon me!”

Overpowered by what he heard, Sir Giles threw himself at the feet of Charles.

“Do not sue to me, Sir,” replied the Prince, regarding him with stern displeasure.  “Enough for you to know that I have been in this much-injured gentleman’s secret.  Let your nephew now be introduced, Sir,” he added, to Osmond Mounchensey.

“His nephew!” muttered Sir Giles, as he arose.  “Nay, then, all is indeed lost!”

“I have felt that for a long time,” groaned Sir Francis.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Judgment.

On the intimation of the Prince’s wishes, the tapestry was again raised to admit Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey, who, stepping forward, made a profound reverence to the Prince.

“I greet you well, Sir Jocelyn,” said Charles, in the kindest and most gracious tone, as the young knight advanced towards him.  “As your disgrace was public, so shall your restoration to the King’s favour be likewise public.  Your return to Court will be a satisfaction to his Majesty.  Any imprudence of which you have been guilty will be entirely overlooked.  All graver faults imputed to you have been explained—­so that no unfavourable impressions against you remain upon my royal father’s mind—­or on mine.  Let me assure you that you have now no more zealous friends than the Conde de Gondomar and the Marquis of Buckingham.”