followed his Royal lady's footsteps,--and so amid the curtseying
ladies-in-waiting and other attendants, they passed together into a
private boudoir, at the threshold of which the Queen's train-bearer
dropped his rich burden of perfumed velvet and gems, and bowing low,
left their Majesties together.

Shutting the door upon him with his own hand, the King drew a heavy
portiere across it,--and then walking round the room saw that every
window was closed,--every nook secure. The Queen's boudoir was one of
the most sacred corners in the whole palace,--no one, not even the most
intimate lady of the Court in personal attendance on her Majesty, dared
enter it without special permission; and this being the case, the Queen
herself was faintly moved to surprise at the extra precaution her
husband appeared to be taking to ensure privacy. She stood silently
watching his movements till he came up to her, and bowing courteously,
said:--

"I pray you, be seated, Madam! I will not detain you long."

She obeyed his gesture, and sank down in a chair with that inimitable
noiseless grace which made every attitude of hers a study for an
artist, and waited for his next words; while he, standing opposite to
her, bent his eyes upon her face with a certain wistfulness and appeal.

"I have never asked you a favour," he began--"and--since the day we
married,--I have never sought your sympathy. The years have come and
gone, leaving no visible trace on either you or me, so far as outward
looks go,--and if they have scarred and wrinkled us inwardly, only God
can see those scars! But as time moves on with a man,--I know not how
it is with a woman,--if he be not altogether a fool, he begins to