“Ay, let him rise by my fall.  ’Tis meet he should,” cried the Puritan, bitterly.  “Shower thy honours upon him, tyrant.  Give him wealth and titles.  I could not wish him worse misfortune than thy favour.”

“Hold thy scurril tongue, villain, or it shall be torn out by the roots,” said James.  “Thou shalt see that I can as promptly reward those that serve me, as thou shalt presently feel I can severely punish those that seek to injure me.  Hark ye, Count!” he added to the Spanish Ambassador, while those around drew back a little, seeing it was his Majesty’s pleasure to confer with him in private, “this youth—­this Jocelyn Mounchensey, hath gentle bluid in his veins?—­he comes of a good stock, ha?”

“He is the representative of an old Norfolk family,” De Gondomar replied.

“What! the son of Sir Ferdinando?” demanded James, a shade crossing his countenance, which did not escape the wily ambassador’s notice.

“You have guessed right, Sire,” he said.  “This is Sir Ferdinando’s son; and, if I may be permitted to say so, your Majesty owes him some reparation for the wrongs done his father.”

“How!  Count!” exclaimed James, with a look of slight displeasure.  “Do you venture to question our judgments on hearsay—­for ye can know naething o’ your ain knowledge?”

“I know enough to be satisfied that misrepresentations were made to your Majesty respecting this young man’s father,” De Gondomar replied; “for I am well assured that if you ever erred at all, it must have been through ignorance, and want of due information.  This was what I designed to explain more fully than I can well do now, when I availed myself of your Majesty’s gracious permission to bring the young man into your presence; and I should then have taken leave to express how much he merited your Majesty’s favour and protection.  Fortune, however, has outrun my wishes, and given him a stronger claim upon you than any I could urge.”

“Ye are right, Count,” rejoined James cautiously.  “He hath the strongest claim upon us, and he shall not find us ungrateful.  We will confer wi’ Steenie—­wi’ Buckingham, we mean—­about him.”

“Pardon me, Sire,” said De Gondomar, “if I venture to suggest that your Majesty hath an admirable opportunity, which I should be sorry to see neglected, of showing your goodness and clemency, and silencing for ever the voice of calumny, which will sometimes be raised against you.”

“What mean ye, Count?” cried James.  “Ye wad na hae me pardon yon traitor?”

“Most assuredly not, Sire,” De Gondomar rejoined.  “But I would urge some present mark of favour for him who hath saved you from the traitor’s fell designs.  And I am emboldened to ask this, because I feel assured it must be consonant to your Majesty’s own inclinations to grant the request.”

“It is sae, Count,” rejoined James.  “We only desired to consult wi’ Buckingham to ascertain whether he had ony objections; but as this is altogether unlikely, we will follow our ain inclinations and do as your Excellency suggests.”