by the fire, resting one hand on a chair; and the landlord,
coming in and seeing him engaged in this manner, softly advanced,
suddenly kissed the king's hand, and said, "God bless you,
wherever you go." Charles started, and would have denied
himself; but the landlord cried out, "'Fore God, your majesty may
trust me; and," he added, "I have no doubt, before I die, to be a
lord, and my wife a lady."

That night, the last his majesty was to spend in England for many
years, he was sad and depressed. The scenes of bloodshed he had
witnessed, the imminent dangers he had escaped, were vividly
present to his mind. The past was fraught with horror; the
future held no hope. Though a king, he was about to become an
outcast from his realm. Surmising his thoughts, his companions
sought to cheer him. Now the long-desired moment of escape was
at hand, no one thought of repose. The little vessel in which he
intended sailing lay dry upon the shore, the tide being at low
water. The king and his friends, the merchant, the captain, and
the landlord, sat in the well-lighted cosy parlour of the seaport
inn, smoking, playing cards, telling stories and drinking good
ale.

With all such diversions the hours wore heavily away. Their
noisy joviality had an undercurrent of sadness; jokes failed to
amuse; laughter seemed forced; words, mirthful in leaving the
lips, sounded ominous on reaching the ear. At four o'clock the
captain rose to survey his ship, and presently returned saying
the tide had risen. Thereon the king and his friends prepared to
depart. A damp, chilly November fog hung over the sea, hiding
its wide expanse without deadening its monotonous moan. A