Mar. He became confused and halted, and finally left off altogether and turned to read the admiration in the azure blue of her eyes.

"Thou art from France, and dost thou know many of the great musicians?"

"Aye, a great many--"

"Hast thou met the great Alessandro Scarlatti? I understand he created a _furore_ as he pa.s.sed through Paris from London."

"'Tis true, and I was most fortunate to hear him play portions of '_L'Onesta nell Amore._' Queen Christina herself accompanied him to Paris, and wherever he played she was not far away."

"We used much of his sacred music at the convent; 'tis such warm, tender and sympathetic harmony. He must be a very great man!"

"He hath a son, Domenico, not two years old, who already shows a great ear for his father's music; and they say he will even be a greater musician than his father. It is possible Alessandro will visit London."

"'Twould be wondrous fine! I will go and hear him play, surely "--Cedric interrupted their musical converse,--

"'Tis cold for thee, I fear, in this damp place; I beg thee to allow me to lead thee to the library." And without further words he led her away, through the library and on beyond to the saloon, where he begged her to favour him with songs he was quite sure she could sing, naming those he most wished to hear.

Then in came Lady Bettie Payne with three or four others, and they babbled and chattered, and as Lord Cedric stood near he heard them speak of Lady Constance' indisposition.

"Ah, poor Constance, I was not aware she was ill!" said he, and he went forth to inquire of her condition and find if aught could be done for her enlivenment to health and spirits. When he returned and saw Katherine so surrounded, and his guests engaged at cards and battledore and music, and some in converse as to whether they should ride forth to the chase, he was somehow stirred to think of Constance lying alone in her chamber; and there recurred to him the tale of the night before; 'twas she that loved him. He felt sorry for her if such a thing were true; but 'twas not possible, and to convince himself he would go to her and give her the brotherly kiss as heretofore, and take notice if there was aught in her manner to denote verification of the miserable gipsy's story. He would put an end to such feeling, if 'twere there. He sent word if he might see her for himself, and be a.s.sured her illness was not feigned, in order she might shirk the duty--like a wicked sister--of presenting her fair face for the enlightenment of the gloom that seemed about to penetrate, from without, the castle walls.

Constance lay propped amongst pillows, in a gorgeous _peignoir_ of lace, arranged for the moment to display advantageously her plump arms and a slender white neck encircled with pearls. Her brow was high and narrow; her dark hair was carefully arranged in wavy folds upon the pillow; her eyes, under drooping lids, glittered coldly and imperiously. The nose was straight, and too thin for beauty. Her lips, touched with rouge, were also thin and full of arrogance. There she lay, impatient for the love of this one man, who was e'en now at the door.

When Constance was a baby, she had watched Cedric upon his nurse's knee taking his pap, and a little later amused him with her dolls. She had played with him at bat and ball; had ridden astride behind him upon a frisking pony; had learned and used the same oaths when none were by to note her language but grooms and stable-boys--always when Angel, the head nurse, was not about. She would outswear the young lad and then tease him because he could not find words to equal hers.

They had played at "Lord and Lady," and rode about the terraces in a miniature sedan chair, and cooks and scullions winked and nodded, wisely and predictively. And when they came to man's and woman's estate, Cedric's regard for her was as a brother's; but hers for him, alas! was deep love. It seemed to her as if the world was just beginning; a bright, glorious world full of untold wealth of love, when she thought perhaps she might yet win him for her own; and indeed she thought, as already possessing him. On his part there was being born in his heart a great joy: that of a new and first love.

Heretofore he and Constance had known all things in common, and now suddenly he was satiate of her. But Katherine, he had thought, was so young and bright and beautiful; a child that had lived within the cloister and had grown to maidenhood in sweet innocence. 'Twas like finding in some tropic clime, embowered and shaded by thick, waxy leaves, a glorious, ripe pomegranate, which he would grasp and drink from its rich, red pulp, a portion that would cool and 'suage a burning thirst; while Constance, by the side of Katherine, was like a russet apple, into whose heart the worm of worldly knowledge had eaten its surfeit and taken all sweetness away, and the poor thing hung low, all dried and spiritless upon a broken bough to the convenience of any pa.s.sing hand. "Nay, nay; give me only the rich, ripe pomegranate; my Katherine, Kate! Kate!" and blinded thus by the fever of desire to possess only his sweet Kate, he swung wide the door of Constance's room and pa.s.sed to the bedside and leant over and kissed her.

She flushed red as she met his eyes--now cold and unimpa.s.sioned--looking into the very depths of her own. He saw the sudden scarlet that mantled her face, and knew--knew she loved him.

And his heart went out to her, for he was attached to the russet thing, an attachment heretofore unnamed, but now--now suddenly christened with that parsimonious appellation--pity; the object of which is never satisfied. But he had naught else to give, for Katherine had suddenly impoverished him.

"'Tis generous of thee, Cedric, to break from thy gay company; what are they engaged in?"

"Various,--some at cards, others at music--"

"And what was thy pastime that thou couldst sever thyself so agreeably?"

"I was listening to Bettie, and she on a sudden remarked of thy indisposition. I straightway came to note thy ailing. I have talked not with thee in private since thy arrival, and there is much news.

Hast seen her, Constance, to talk with her?"

"Whom meanest thou? There are many 'hers' in the house!"

"The beauty that flew to me over seas, of course; whom else could I mean?"

"Oh! oh! to be sure; the maid from Quebec. Aye, I talked with her some. Thou sayest she is Sir John Penwick's daughter?"

"Aye, and she's a glorious beauty, eh, Constance?"

"But how camest thou by her?"

Cedric reached to that nearest his heart and drew forth Sir John's letter and gave it opened into Constance's hand. She read it with blazing eyes and great eagerness; for 'twas a bundle of weapons she was examining and would take therefrom her choice. She flashed forth queries as to the probability of this or that with a semblance of interest that disarmed Cedric and made him wonder if this woman loved to such an extent, she could fling aside her own interests and submerge all jealousy, all self-love into the purest of all sacrifices, abnegation?

"What! no estates? That looks ill, for at one time Sir John was affluent, for Aunt Hettie has told me of him many a time."

"But he lost it all, as I've heard ofttime from father; he has spoken not infrequent of Sir John's high living; he had great demesne, a great heart and great temper; and 'tis the last named that has fallen clear and unc.u.mbered to his daughter; and the heart will be found by careful probing, no doubt; and the demesne she will have when she condescends to take me as spouse."

"Thou, thou espouse her?" and Constance feigned surprise, as if 'twere a new thing to her, when in reality she had suffered agony from its repet.i.tion.

"Aye, and why not, pray? Am I not of ripe years and know my mind?"

"And why so?--because thou shouldst wed one of high degree and fortune and worldly wisdom."

"Nay, thou art wrong. 'Tis enough that she is of n.o.ble blood from father and mother; and I have fortune for us both; and worldly wisdom--bah! Constance, dost thou expect her to know all the intrigues of court, when she is but lightly past fifteen?"

"Fifteen?--Now by heaven, Cedric, thou wouldst not lie to me?"

"Nay, Con, I would not--I have no object in this case, 'tis a truth."

"Fifteen, and indeed she is well-formed for such youth!"

"And what a beautiful and innocent face she has, too?"

"Beauteous, admitted; but innocent of what?"

"Innocent of all we know; she knows naught of this great world. Janet keeps all evil from her. We cannot conceive of such innocence in any one. The child has eaten the simplest things all her life; milk and gruel and beef-whey; 'tis no great wonder she is so pink and strong; Janet says in hand-to-hand battle in their convent chamber, the child hath thrown her oft in fair wit of strength;--such rough sport was not indulged in openly and Janet taught her thrusts and flings to broaden her chest and strengthen hip and back; she is stout and strong, and yet she makes one think of a beautiful flower until she falls in anger; then she shows a stout temper as well, and is wilful to all save Janet, who governs her by some strange method I ne'er saw before; for 'tis odd to see servant lead mistress. But, 'twas an awful thing happened me; I knew not, or had forgotten rather, the arrival of the babe Sir John speaks of. As thou knowest, I came home unexpectedly, and I found the letter here. It had arrived some time before, and I read it hastily, told Wa.s.son my duty and pa.s.sed the letter to a convenient pocket, and thence until the night of the _masque_ forgot all about the arrival of the infant. I was masqued, mad and raving at Christopher for not mending my bag-pipe, and I rushed swearing after him and Mistress Penwick heard my oaths, my broad Scotch ones thou knowest I love to use when in anger. She hates me for it, and I can do naught to win the confidence due me as her rightful guardian. So I have settled upon an immediate espousal--"

"Immediate? Thou marry a child,--'tis unseemly--"

"Nay, 'tis not unseemly; 'tis the most proper thing to do. Janet says so, too, and will urge her to accept me as soon as I wish to wed--which shall be at the earliest moment."

"Janet, indeed! What right has a servant to forward the doings of master and mistress? Thou hadst best wait and have her Grace of Ellswold present her at Court and give the child at least one season in London to improve her convent ways."

"Nay, Constance, if she were to grow one whit more beautiful, 'twould kill me dead."

"I am afraid thou art easily slain; indeed, I never knew beauty was so murderous before. Thou art surely beside thyself; she here alone in this great castle without a mother's love to guide! No one to whom she can tell her troubles! How must the poor child feel to be forced into a marriage she most like--hates;"--and her ladyship's voice took on such a tone of pity one would think she was about to break into tears,--"'tis a barbarous act for thee to talk of marriage so soon to a helpless being."

"There is nothing helpless about Kate, she can take her own part. She hath wit and temper for a half dozen."

"But thou wilt acknowledge if she will have _her_ way she must leave the castle; for thou art bent upon _thy_ way--thou wilt not listen to reason; so, see to it, and wed her straightway if--if thou canst." He was about to answer her with an oath, when suddenly Katherine stood in the half-open door smiling over the top of a great bunch of roses.

On Constance' face was a look of triumph, as she noted Cedric's confusion; but Katherine's words put Cedric at ease.

"I was told thou wert ill and that Lord Cedric was uneasy and had come to thee; and I reproached myself for not coming earlier to see if thou wert in need of aught." She placed the vase of roses on a table close.

Constance thanked her and took the tapering fingers and hugged them between her own. Katherine looked down upon her thin, arrogant lips; and as there always comes to the innocent--when dealing with those of other mould--a warning, a feeling of repulsion, took possession of her and she withdrew her hand, and, in a moment, her presence.

"'Tis a vision of loveliness more refreshing than the nosegay she brought, thinkest thou not so, Constance?"

"Thou dost see with lover's eyes. How soon wilt thou espouse her; thy house is somewhat taken up by company, who are to remain for the summer, and how wilt thou get through the irksomeness of grand ceremonies without great preparation, for much will be expected of thy wealth and rank?"

"Damme, I'll have no pranks and ceremonies and entertainments; I have not time. I must wed her at once. Canst thou not see, under the circ.u.mstances, scandal-mongers will make eyes and prate of wrong for me thus to have a young maid here alone?" Now indeed this thought had not occurred to Constance in just this way; but now it struck her with a mighty force, and she shot at him a piercing glance through the half-closed imperious eyes.