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 assured 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