liked; good, which up to that time I had never suspected, having always
seen him in the shadow of a throne.

When Hamilton had disappeared, I asked Frances if we should return
to Sundridge, and she answering by a nod, we started home, each of us
heavy-hearted, one of us weeping pathetically. Her heart had just
received its first sharp blow, and I pitied her, for the first one hurts.

After walking a little way in silence, I remarked, "There is no reason
why we should add to your father's troubles by telling him of this
affair."

"Nor Sarah," sobbed Frances. "She is like a wasp--all sting." After a
long pause devoted to drying her eyes, she continued, "But it has not
been much of an affair."

"I am not asking what it has been, Frances," I returned, speaking
tenderly, for I knew her heart was sore. "I have no right to ask."

"Yes, you have the right to ask," she replied, earnestly. "You have
earned it to-day, if never before. I'll tell you all about it. You see I
did not know--I did not think it possible--that he was the evil person
you described. To me he seemed as high-minded as he was gallant and
handsome."

"He is high-minded in many respects," I said, "and might have been a
decent man in all respects had he lived under other conditions. He is far
the best of what is known at court as 'the Royal Clique,' and is an angel
of goodness compared with the king and his despicable son, James Crofts,
Duke of Monmouth. Do you want to tell me where and how you met Hamilton?"