“‘Oons! Joan—what the plague ails the woman?” exclaimed Bonfellow Smith, staring at her in surprise. “What’s the matter, I say?”
“I do—o—on’t know—I ca—a—n’t speak,” she stammered, as Charles signed to her to keep silence.
“Don’t know—and can’t speak!” echoed Smith. “‘Sbud! this is something new. You can use your tongue pretty freely in an ordinary way. Set down the candles and leave the room.”
“Allow me to help you, my good mistress,” said the king, taking the candles from her, and placing them on the table.
“I beg your honour’s pardon,” exclaimed Smith, in an apologetic tone. “I can’t think what has come to my wife. I never saw her in such a way before. Don’t stand staring there, Joan, I tell ‘ee.”
“Never mind your wife, my good man,” said Charles. “She’ll be all right presently. Draw the window-curtain, for we don’t care to be overlooked—and then we’ll talk about supper. Compose yourself, if possible, my good Joan,” he added, in a whisper, “or you will rouse your husband’s suspicions.”
“Oh! your Majesty needn’t fear him,” she rejoined, in the same tone. “You haven’t a more loyal subject than Smith. He would lay down his life for you. Here, hubby! hubby!” she cried aloud, “come this way! Look at this gentleman, and you’ll no longer wonder at my excitement. Don’t you know him?” she added, seizing his hand.
“Know him! Gadzooks! I should think I did!” exclaimed Smith, now almost as much excited as his wife. “I should know that face amid a thousand. Oh dear! oh dear! that the like of this should ever have come to pass!”
“Down on your knees, hubby—down on your knees!” cried Mrs. Smith. “Render your homage to his Majesty—swear fidelity to him!”
“I swear to be faithful, my gracious liege,” cried Bonfellow Smith, as he and his wife prostrated themselves before Charles. “Command me as you please!—take all I possess—my house, my goods, my chattels, my wife—everything.”
“Nay, I won’t rob you of your wife, my good fellow,” replied Charles, laughing. “I accept your assurances of fidelity, satisfied that I may rely upon them, and hoping most sincerely that they may not be put to the test during my brief stay under your roof. Accident, or rather, I ought to say, a kind Providence, has again thrown me amongst friends, who will, I am firmly persuaded, watch over my security. To show the entire confidence I repose in you both, I will unhesitatingly inform you that, early to-morrow morning, I am about to embark at Shoreham for France, and I will tarry with you till the latest moment. The captain of the vessel will be here presently, and I expect some other friends. You must give us a good supper—look well after me—take care there are no unlicensed intruders—you understand?—and some day I will requite your devotion.”
“All shall be done as your Majesty desires,” said Smith.
“And I’ll see to the supper, your Majesty,” added Mrs. Smith.
“Enough, my good friends,” rejoined Charles. “Rise both of you. As to you, Joan,” he continued, drawing her towards him, “your husband will not be jealous, I am sure, if I venture to press those tempting lips.”
“Oh! take as many kisses as you please, sire! Your Majesty is heartily welcome!” cried Smith.
“It is not the first time I have kissed your dame, my good host,” said Charles, laughing.
“Not the first time by a score, an please your Majesty!” replied the hostess, dropping a grateful curtsey. “I have often told Smith how the merry young prince used to chase me along the corridor. Ah! those were happy times!”
“Nouns! wife, the good times will come back, thou mayst rest assured,” cried Smith. “The king will enjoy his own again, and then, ‘sbodikins! I shall be a lord, and thou wilt be a lady, Joan! thou wilt be a lady! Which nobody can deny! which nobody can deny!” And he sang and capered about the room in so droll a manner, that both Charles and Colonel Gunter were ready to die with laughing.
“It’s now my turn to call you to your senses, hubby,” cried Mrs. Smith, forcibly restraining him. “Don’t you hear some one calling you outside?”