“Anything thou wouldst ask of me thus, thou couldst have it without the asking.”

“Then, my lord, when there is aught I would have, I may take it without thy spoken yea?”

“Nay, not so; that would be highway robbery; for thou wouldst take from me the dearest thing that has yet happened to me; ’tis thy sweet pleading for that ’tis already thine.”

“’Tis a generous thing for thee to say, but if I might have perfect freedom to do all things as I desire—­”

“And what are the ‘all things’ that thou wouldst desire?”

“I should like to have many changes made in the Chapel, and bring one who is well able to play on the great organ.  And ’twould be a wondrous good thing to bring from the village of Crandlemar youths for the training of a choir, such as I have heard are of much repute among the poor lads for strength and sweetness of voice; and after all things are made ready, have the Chapel opened again with pomp of priest and solemn ceremony.”

“If such are thy desires, I will put forward the work at once.”  Now indeed Katherine forgot the sad lack of stays and for the moment forgot all else save that the handsome Cedric stood before her flushed and eager to gratify her every whim.  He, one of the richest noblemen in Great Britain, whom she could have for a look; the stretching out of the hand.  And she quite well knew that he was ready at the first opportunity to renew the subject of marriage, and for this very thing she turned from him thinking that some time she would consider his proposal.  So again he went from her presence with a throbbing in his breast that was half-hope, half-despair and knew not what to do.

’Twas the last ball at Crandlemar Castle, for the hunting season was over.  A goodly company gathered from neighbouring shires, and Mistress Pen wick was the mark of all eyes in a sweeping robe of fawn that shimmered somewhat of its brocadings of blue and pink and broiderings of silver.  She had decorously plaited a flounce of old and rare lace and brought it close about her shoulders and twined her mother’s string of pearls about her white throat, the longer strands reaching below her waistband and caught low again upon the shoulder with a knot of fresh spring violets.  Cedric stood apart with his kinsman, his Grace of Ellswold, who enjoyed the freedom of speech of all Charles’ Court; indeed it appeared that not only looseness of tongue but morals also held sway in the most remote as well as the best known portions of the kingdom.  And at his Grace’s first sight of Katherine he uttered an oath and some other expression that savoured of common hackney; for Cedric had been telling him of the soothsayer’s words.

“The soothsayer spoke false and I’ll wager thee the East Forest thou hast coveted against thy Welsh demesne.  I tell thee, Cedric, a jewel hast thou found.  Never have I seen her equal.  And that is John Penwick’s daughter!” and he took a great pinch of snuff and looked at Cedric.  “She will make thee a fine wife,—­but who is the man that dangles after her now?  Indeed, I would say thou hadst better watch out for him.  I do not like the look in his eyes; he is—­”