“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 circumstances, 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.

“I had thought of it, but determined mine should not be the first breath to breathe forth scandal, even in private converse with thee; ’twas an awful thing for her to come here knowing of thy youth.”