The nurse went to seek her one evening, and found the young woman in a dense cloud of blue that emanated from a costly thurible, which she was swinging before the crucifix in the Chapel.  Ascending with the sweet incense was a psalm of contrition uttered from a truly penitent heart.  A tall candle burned, lighting up the white-robed figure, and the filmy incense that enveloped it to a saintly vision.  Though Janet watched her mistress thus environed with sacredness, yet the deep impression was somewhat charged with a sense of humour; “for,” she opined to herself, “people are so much more ridiculous in mending a breach than they are in making it!” But Janet was not a Catholic, and beside, she made few mistakes and could condone an offence only when made by one she loved.  Knowing Katherine as she did, she admired the outward show more than the spirit, and thought of the two the former was more stable.  Katherine often prayed aloud, and Janet hearing her, caught the burden of her prayer, and there was actual pain in her voice when she cried out that Cedric might be forgiven for the murder of Christopher.  Now Janet knew that the lad had only been slightly injured by Hiary and had fully recovered, and she determined to send for him, and at the Vesper service introduce him into the Chapel and thereby cause to cease her mistress’ plaints.  And so it came about in the late autumn, when Crandlemar was about to receive its new master from Wales, and the plate and all belongings of the Duke had been sent to Ellswold, and Katherine herself was to set forth for London within a few days, she entered the Chapel for her customary devotions.  As she prayed, she was aroused by the opening of the outer door.  She looked up and saw Christopher before her.  Janet was surprised at her calmness and was amazed when Katherine said to him that she had been expecting to see him all day, as she had heard the evening before that he was alive and had been seen near the castle grounds.  Now it was impossible to make Katherine think it was a direct answer to prayer, though Janet did her best.  But as it proved, a great weight had fallen from the Duchess’ heart, for she became perfectly joyous and positively neglected her devotions in the Chapel.  She was delighted to set forth, for the moment had actually arrived, and within a few days she would see Cedric, and, she hoped, her father also; but the latter’s abode was unknown to her, save only that ’twas in London.

The night of her arrival at the Royal Palace had closed down dark and stormy.  The King and Queen, with the ladies and gentlemen of the Court, had repaired to the Duke of York’s theatre to see played the “Black Prince,” written by the Earl of Orrery.  The King had insisted upon the Duke of Ellswold accompanying them, but the latter declared the play would be a torture, when he should be thinking that perhaps his wife might arrive in his absence.  Other thoughts also assailed him, of which he hinted not to the King; but he was confident Constance meant mischief, and he was unwilling to give her any chance to put the weight of her anger on the Duchess.