'Twas not alone Charles who was pleased with Nell Gwynne. All England
liked her, and the lower orders best of all, because she was merry and
kind of heart and her jokes and open-handedness pleased them. They were
deep in the midst of a story of a poor gentleman in orders whom she
had rescued from the debtors' prison, when old Rowe, who had been
watching the road leading from the park gates, pricked up his ears and
left his seat, trembling with excitement.

"'Tis a horse galloping," he cried; and as they all turned to look he
flung his cap in the air. "'Tis the messenger," he burst forth, "and he
waves his hat in his hand as if he had gone mad with joy. Off go I to
the church tower as fast as legs will carry me."

And off he hobbled, and the messenger galloped onward, flourishing his
hat as he rode, and giving it no rest till he drew rein before the
Plough Horse door, and all gathered about him to hear his news.

"An heir--an heir!" he cried. "'Tis an heir, and as lusty as a young
lion. Gerald Walter John Percy Mertoun, next Duke of Osmonde! Hurrah,
hurrah, hurrah!"

And at the words all the men shouted and flung up their hats, the
landlord with his wife and children ran forth, women rushed out of
their cottages and cried for joy--and the bells in the old church's
grey tower swung and rang such a peal of gladness as sounded as if they
had gone wild in their ecstacy of welcome to the new-born thing.

In all England there was no nobleman's estate adorned by a house more
beautiful than was the Tower of Camylott. Through the centuries in