“But ye have not yet tauld us the youth’s name, Count?” said the King.

“Your Majesty, I trust, will not think I make a mystery where none is needed, if I say that my protege claims your gracious permission to preserve, for the moment, his incognito,” De Gondomar replied.  “When I present him of course his name will be declared.”

“Be it as you will, Count,” James replied.  “We ken fu’ weel ye hae gude reason for a’ ye do.  Fail not in your attendance on us at the time appointed.”

As De Gondomar with a profound obeisance drew back, the King put his steed in motion.  General attention having been thus called to Jocelyn, all eyes were turned towards him, his appearance and attire were criticised, and much speculation ensued as to what could be the Spanish Ambassador’s motive for undertaking the presentation.

Meanwhile, Lord Roos had taken advantage of the brief halt of the hunting party to approach the Countess of Exeter, and pointing out Gillian to her, inquired in a low tone, and in a few words, to which, however, his looks imparted significance, whether she would take the pretty damsel into her service as tire-woman or handmaiden.  The Countess seemed surprised at the request, and, after glancing at the Beauty of Tottenham, was about to refuse it, when Lord Roos urged in a whisper, “’T is for De Gondomar I ask the favour.”

“In that case I readily assent,” the Countess replied.  “I will go speak to the damsel at once, if you desire it.  How pretty she is!  No wonder his inflammable Excellency should be smitten by her.”  And detaching her barb, as she spoke, from the cavalcade, she moved towards Gillian, accompanied by Lord Roos.  The pretty damsel was covered with fresh confusion at the great lady’s approach; and was, indeed, so greatly alarmed, that she might have taken to her heels, if she had been on the ground, and not on the pillion behind her grandsire.

“Be not abashed, my pretty maiden,” the Countess said, in a kind and encouraging tone; “there is nothing to be afraid of.  Aware that I am in want of a damsel like yourself, to tire my hair and attend upon me, Lord Roos has drawn my attention to you; and if I may trust to appearances—­as I think I may,” she added, with a very flattering and persuasive smile, “in your case—­you are the very person to suit me, provided you are willing to enter my service.  I am the Countess of Exeter.”

“A Countess!” exclaimed Gillian.  “Do you hear that, grandsire?  The beautiful lady is a countess.  What an honour it would be to serve her!”

“It might be,” the old man replied, with hesitation, and in a whisper; “yet I do not exactly like the manner of it.”

“Don’t accept the offer, Gillian.  Don’t go,” said Dick Taverner, whose breast was full of uneasiness.

“Your answer, my pretty maiden?” the Countess said, with a winning smile.

“I am much beholden to you, my lady,” Gillian replied, “and it will delight me to serve you as you propose—­that is, if I have my grandsire’s consent to it.”