“’Twill do no good to see him; he will not come.  He is thoroughly out of all patience with thy perverseness,—­thou wilt never find another such a noble lord and one ’twill love thee with such love;—­and for a face and figure—­well, thou art surely blind to masculine beauty;—­and should his Grace go hence, my lord will be his Grace of Ellswold, and second to none in the realm; he will become as much to the king as the Duke of Buckingham, and will far outshine Monmouth and Shaftesbury.”

“Nay, Janet, he will ne’er become great when he doth so confuse justice with viciousness;—­but, nurse, I would have thee haste.  Tell my lord that I beg his presence, if for a moment only; he surely would not refuse so trifling a request.”

“But it is not trifling, as he well knows thou art upon the keen edge of want before thou wilt so much as smile upon him.”  At the moment there struck upon Mistress Penwick’s ears the tramp of horses’ feet, and straightway she ran to the window and leant out and saw Cedric about to ride forth.

“My lord, my lord!” she cried, and dropped a rose to attract him.  His horse sprung aside and trod upon it; but Cedric looked up and saw the anxious face embrazured by ivy-clad sill; and with involuntary courtesy he speedily uncovered and waited thus her pleasure.

“May I have a word with thee, my lord?”

“Indeed, Mistress, it doth rack me with pleasure to accord thee so slight a service,” and he dismounted quickly and strode into the great hall and bounded up the oaken stairway.  It seemed to Mistress Penwick, as she heard his rattling spurs, that ’twas a sound of strength, and she felt a happy, exultant tremour, knowing her cause already won.  But for once there was not wisdom in her conceit.  She made a sweeping courtesy as he entered.  He bent low before her, waiting her first words.

“My lord, wilt thou permit me to inquire somewhat of thy mercy?”

“Thou dost make me insolvent of such a quality when thy keen penetration doth not discover, without inquiry, its existence.”  She was not daunted by his severe answer, but flushed slightly at his imperturbance.

“Then, if thou dost acknowledge thyself so pampered, I beg thou wilt conjoin to justice its semblance and forgive thy poor servant the penalty of death.”

“Ah! ah! and ’tis Christopher’s cause thou art pleading.  Happy Christopher!” he sighed deeply.  “If the King would thus condemn me, Mistress Penwick wouldst thou thus care for me?”

“The query is of that so premature ’twould be impossible to frame a reply,—­hence I beg to continue converse upon an affair thoroughly elaborated and arranged.”

“’Twould grieve me to say at once ‘nay’; for that would end at once for me these supreme moments in thy presence; however, I will repeat the adverb of negation with a rising inflection that thou mayst continue with amplification.”

“Dost thou mean to discontinue converse with me?”