"Yes, yes, I have suspected as much, but I beg you, Frances, to spare me the pain of hearing the truth."
"Yes, the truth is a frightful thing," sighed Frances. "Why cannot the world be made up of pleasing lies? But tell me, does your Majesty mean to say that the wretch, Hamilton, seeks your life?"
"He does, he does," returned the king. "While he was sick at the Old Swan, one standing outside his door heard him declare his intention to kill the king. When I heard of the threat, I summoned his physician, one Doctor Lilly, who, being questioned, admitted that while in a delirium Hamilton had made threats against the king's life, but that he, Lilly, had supposed the French king was meant. Lilly is a good faithful subject, and I often use his astrological knowledge, which is really great, but in this case I suspect he is trying to shield Hamilton, believing, perhaps, that the threats meant nothing because they were made in delirium."
"It is horrible to think upon," answered Frances, shivering. "But he has gone to France, and, thank Heaven, your Majesty is safe. Perhaps he has gone to kill King Louis."
"How do you know he has gone to France?" asked the king, much interested.
"I had a letter from him. He imagines he is in love with me," answered Frances, speaking in the letter of truth and with a fine air of calmness. She had received a letter from George in France, but it was before his return to England.
"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed the king. "Your news contradicts your avowal that you are not in love with him."
"Shall I be in love with all who say they are in love with me?" asked Frances, glancing up to the king.
"God forbid!" he answered. "I would have you in love with but one--one who loves your voice, your beauty, your goodness."
"Your Majesty may at least rest easy so far as Hamilton is concerned," she returned.
"But I am glad that he is out of the country, and shall see to it that he doesn't come back," said the king.
His Majesty had talked too long, for Frances had learned that his suspicions of her love of Hamilton were not allayed, despite his pretense to the contrary.
"I care not where he be so long as he doesn't trouble me," answered Frances, sighing.
"But if it is not one it is another," said the king, ruefully. "I hear that the Duke of Tyrconnel is mad for love of you."