she demanded.

I shook my head. “None, madam.”

“I was the King’s ward!” she cried.

I bowed, but spoke no word, though she waited for me.

“If you will listen,” she said at last, proudly, and yet with a pleading sweetness, — ”if you will listen, I will tell you how it was that I — that I came to wrong you so.”

“I am listening, madam,” I replied.

She stood against the light, the roses pressed to her bosom, her dark eyes upon me, her head held high. “My mother died when I was born; my father, years ago. I was the King’s ward. While the Queen lived she kept me with her, —