No sooner had Charles set foot in the entrance-hall, than the colonel once more gave him a hearty welcome to Ovingdean Grange, to which the king made a suitable reply. Mr. Beard then received the honour of a presentation, and his Majesty expressing a hope that he might be speedily restored to the living of which he had been deprived, he replied with humility,
“I do not despair, sir. Vincit qui patitur.”
“And this, I suppose, is your daughter, Mr. Beard?” inquired the king, determined to put his promise to Clavering into immediate execution, and looking with such undisguised admiration at Dulcia as summoned the roses to her cheek. “On my faith, fair damsel,” he continued, “I have heard Clavering Maunsel speak of you—and in rapturous terms, I promise you—but, as I live, his description did not do you justice.”
“I must pray you, sir, to spare the maiden’s blushes,” interposed Colonel Maunsel. “She is simple and home-bred, and unaccustomed to compliments.”
“Egad! colonel, you mistake,” cried the monarch; “I never spoke with greater sincerity in my life. Your son did not say half so much of fair Mistress Dulcia as she deserves. She is lovely enough to grace the proudest hall in England—ay, a palace, if there be a palace left in the country. If I had been in Clavering’s place I should have fallen in love to a dead certainty; and if—as perhaps might be the case—the fair Dulcia had not proved altogether insensible to my suit, I should have asked my father’s consent,” he added, to the colonel.
This speech, as may be imagined, greatly embarrassed one person to whom it referred, but the king seemed wholly to disregard her confusion.
“And what should you have answered, colonel, if such a question had been put to you?” pursued Charles.
“‘Faith, sir, I can’t say—I have not given the matter consideration,” replied the old Cavalier.
“Then do so,” rejoined the king; “and decide before I leave, for I have made up my mind that it shall be a match.”
“You must have other and more important affairs to think of, I should fancy, sir,” remarked Colonel Maunsel, “than to trouble yourself, at a time like the present, about the loves of a foolish boy and girl. If there should be any fondness between them—of which I am ignorant—they must wait.”
“Very prudent and proper,” rejoined the king. “Let them wait if you desire it, my good colonel, but not too long—not too long. There! we may consider the matter as settled,” he added, with a glance at Clavering.
“Upon my word, sir,” cried the colonel, “you are very peremptory—and as prompt as peremptory. You have only been here a few minutes, and yet have made a marriage, whether the parties chiefly concerned like it or not.”
“Oddsfish! colonel,” exclaimed Charles, “I have taken care to satisfy myself on that score. Your consent alone is wanted, for good Mr. Beard’s, I can see, is given already.”
“Nay, if I thought the happiness of the young folks was at stake,” replied the colonel, “I should not withhold my consent, you may depend, sir.”
“I knew it!—I knew it!” cried Charles, triumphantly. “Bravo! bravissimo! Clavering, I congratulate you. You will soon have the prettiest wife in Sussex, and my only regret is that I cannot be present at the wedding. And now, colonel, before doing anything else, I would fain refresh myself with a little cold water, and get rid of the dust and heat of the journey.”
“I will instantly attend you to a chamber, sir, where all is in readiness,” said the old Cavalier.
“On no account, colonel,” cried the king. “I will not permit it. You overwhelm me by your kindness. You have other guests to attend to besides myself. Clavering will show me the way—that is, if he can quit the side of his intended. Come, confess!” he added, playfully, as he approached the young couple. “Have I not done you both a good turn?”
“In good truth you have, sir,” replied Clavering. “I will answer for Dulcia,” he added, as the blushing damsel turned away to hide her confusion.
“Upstairs at once, and away!” cried Charles, “or we shall have the old gentleman retract his promise.”