"He is not true to me," continued Nelly, impetuously, "and I know it. But
I do not care. I have his love, and with that I am content. I would not
ask fidelity. I care nothing for the wealth he gives. I accept only a
meagre portion of what he offers, and have refused honors and titles
which would be a burden to me. I want only the man, Charles Stuart."
She began to weep softly, drying her eyes and trying to laugh. "He's not
much of a man, and I know his weaknesses better than any one in all the
world knows them. But he is all to me, and I beg you to leave me this
part of a man, for you only, of all women I know, can take him from me."
"I would not take the king from you, even to be his queen, if that were
possible. I promise that I shall not rob you of his love. It is the last
thing in the world I want. You say you love me. I believe you and give
you like return. Every one loves you, Nelly."
"Ah, I thank you--Frances," answered Nelly, hesitating at the name.
"Let us seal a pact of friendship," said Frances. "We shall need each
other's help in this vile court that takes its quality from its king."
"Yes, truly he is vile," returned Nelly. "But women of my class, born and
bred in the slums of life, do not measure a man by his virtues, but by
their love of him. I know not how it is, nor why, but this I know, we
love because of what we give, and the more we give, the more we love.
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