in the mask had not appeared again, according to his promise, after the jousts.  This suspense was terrible, and Sir Jocelyn found it so difficult of endurance, that he would have preferred the actual presence of the calamity by which he was threatened.  His fears were, that the claim he so much dreaded would be made by Sir Giles Mompesson in person, and in that case he had determined forcibly to resist him.  And this supposition might account for the delay—­since he knew that Sir Giles was suffering severely from the effects of the blow he had dealt him in the tilt-yard.

De Gondomar’s were not idle threats, as Sir Jocelyn soon found.  On the next day, as he entered the palace, he was informed by the Lord Chamberlain that he was deprived of his office of Gentleman of the Bed-Chamber; and when he demanded the reason of his sudden dismissal, the Duke of Lennox, with a shrug of the shoulders, declared he was unable to afford him any information.  But what the Duke refused was afforded by De Gondomar, who at that moment entered the corridor, in company with Buckingham and some other nobles, on his way to the presence-chamber.  On seeing his late protege, the ambassador halted for a moment, and with a smile of triumph said—­“You owe your dismissal to me, Sir Jocelyn.  I have made some few circumstances concerning you that had just come to my ears known to his Majesty; and as he does not choose to have spies about his person, he has released you from all further attendance upon him.”

“In a word, he has forbidden your attendance again at the palace,” added Buckingham, who had paused likewise, with an insulting laugh.

“I must to the King, your Grace,” cried Sir Jocelyn to the Lord Chamberlain.  “I will explain the falsehood of this charge to his Majesty, and show him who is the spy and traitor he has to fear.”

“You cannot pass, Sir Jocelyn,” said the Duke of Lennox, placing himself in his way, while two halberdiers advanced to bar his passage with their partizans.  “I say not a word as to the cause of your disgrace; but I may tell you, that his Majesty is greatly offended with you, and that it would be highly imprudent to approach him in his present frame of mind, even were it permitted you to do so—­which it is not.  As I have said, you are deprived of your office, and enjoined to absent yourself from the palace, till it shall be his Majesty’s pleasure to recall you.”

“And that is not likely to be soon the case—­eh, Count?” observed Buckingham, with a laugh.

“Not very likely indeed, Marquis,” said the ambassador.  “I much regret that I have been the means of introducing so unworthy a person to his Majesty; but I have made all the amends in my power.”

“Must I tamely endure all these insults and calumnies, your Grace?” cried Sir Jocelyn furiously.

“If you will be guided by me, you will retire,” rejoined the Duke of Lennox; “or the provocation you will receive may induce you to do some desperate act which may render your position worse, and put your restoration to the King’s favour entirely out of the question.”