She did not dare, however, to let him come to her. He understood, and he
went his way after the King and Lord Rippingdale.

In all the years that had passed since the night he had helped her father
and herself to escape from Enderby House; since he aided them to leave
their hiding-place on the coast and escape to Holland, she had never
forgotten his last words to her, the laughing look of his eyes, the
pressure of his hand. Many a time since she had in her own mind thought
of him as she had heard her father call him, even as "Happy Dick
Mowbray!" and the remembrance of his joyous face had been a help to her
in all her sufferings. His brown hair was now streaked with grey, but the
light in the face was the same; there was the same alertness and buoyant
health in the figure and the same row of laughing white teeth.

As she stood watching the departing figure, she scarcely knew that the
Queen was preparing to go to her bed-chamber. She became aware of it
definitely by the voice of her Majesty, now somewhat petulant.

Two hours later she was walking alone in one of the galleries when,
hearing a gentle step behind her, she turned and saw the King. She made
an obeisance and was about to move on, when he stopped her, speaking
kindly to her, and thanking her for the great pleasure she had given him
that afternoon.

"What should be done for this quasi knight of Enderby?" asked the King.

"He saved the life of the King," she said; then boldly, confidently,
"your Majesty, for conscience sake he lost all--what can repay him for
his dishonoured years and his ruined home!"