own motion and without authority!—­why, child, I saw the commission with my own eyes, nor count myself under any farther obligation to hold my peace concerning it!  I know my husband will bear all things, even disgrace itself, undeserved, for the king’s sake:  he is the loveliest of martyrs; but that is no reason why I should bear it.  The king hath no heart and no conscience.  No, I will not say that; but I will say that he hath little heart and less conscience.  My good husband’s fair name is gone—­blasted by the king, who raiseth the mist of Glamorgan’s dishonour that he may hide himself safe behind it.  I tell thee, Dorothy Vaughan, I should not have grudged his majesty my lord’s life, an’ he had been but a right kingly king.  I should have wept enough and complained too much, in womanish fashion, doubtless; but I tell thee earl Thomond’s daughter would not have grudged it.  But my lord’s truth and honour are dear to him, and the good report of them is dear to me.  I swear I can ill brook carrying the title he hath given me.  It is my husband’s and not mine, else would I fling it in his face who thus wrongs my Herbert.’

This explosion from the heart of the wild Irishwoman sounded dreadful in the ears of the king-worshipper.  But he whom she thus accused the king of wronging, had been scarcely less revered of her, even while the idol with the feet of clay yet stood, and had certainly been loved greatly more, than the king himself.  Hence, notwithstanding her struggle to keep her heart to its allegiance, such a rapid change took place in her feelings, that ere long she began to confess to herself that if the puritans could have known what the king was, their conduct would not have been so unintelligible—­not that she thought they had an atom of right on their side, or in the least feared she might ever be brought to think in the matter as they did; she confessed only that she could then have understood them.

The whole aspect and atmosphere of Raglan continued changed.  The marquis was still very gloomy; lord Charles often frowned and bit his lip; and the flush that so frequently overspread the face of lady Glamorgan as she sat silent at her embroidery, showed that she was thinking in anger of the wrong done to her husband.  In this feeling all in the castle shared, for the matter had now come to be a little understood, and as they loved the earl more than the king, they took the earl’s part.

Meantime he for whose sake the fortress was troubled, having been released on large bail, was away, with free heart, to Kilkenny, busy as ever on behalf of the king, full of projects, and eager in action.  Not a trace of resentment did he manifest—­only regret that his majesty’s treatment of him, in destroying his credit with the catholics as the king’s commissioner, had put it out of his power to be so useful as he might otherwise have been.  His brain was ever contriving how to remedy things, but parties were complicated, and none quite trusted him now that he was disowned of his master.