“Indeed, Julian, Dryden in five minutes’ converse will stir one to seriousness by his fancy, to tears by his pathos, and to thoughts of deity by his sublimity.”

“’Tis only a great, good, noble nature like thine that could be so stirred; believe me, your Grace, thou didst dissemble these emotions from pure charity.”

“Well, well, we must all admit that ’tis not his character that commands our respect and esteem, but his prose and poesy.  We all love Buckingham, but in our appreciation of him we must not exclude reason and put him before all others,”—­and her Grace turned abruptly to Mistress Penwick.  “Here is an admirer of Dryden’s compositions, she clings pertinaciously and with all the ardour of strong youth to his satire of ‘Absalom and Achitophel,’ although ’tis a bitter lampoon on Monmouth and Shaftesbury; two men she heartily admires.”  Sir Julian leant over the Duchess and spoke softly,—­

“I was not aware Mistress Penwick had been presented?” And his keen eyes scanned every lineament of her face and mould.  Lord Cedric was watching askance, and his face grew red with a stroke of passion as he noted Sir Julian’s look of evident admiration, and jealousy for a moment swept the young lord’s heart, and he cursed in thought the wicked feeling that in connection with his noble friend could predicate of naught but the foul fiends.  Indeed, so open were Sir Julian’s glances that the maid herself became confused and said, with some embarrassment,—­

“My imagination is ofttime profligate, and I indulge—­in fancy—­in exchange of word and thought with those great and exalted personages whose noble compeers I have the good fortune to consort with daily.”  And she laid her hand caressingly upon the Duchess’ arm.

“Then ’twould serve thee greatly to place thee within the shadow of Whitehall, aye, Mistress?”

“’Twould be a great happiness, Sir Julian.”

“Dost know of any greater, my lady?” It seemed his eyes would pierce her very soul.

“I must admit it; I have a great desire,” and her face grew rose-hued and her heart fluttered with the bold words she was about to utter—­

“Ah, thou dost wish for, or have a desire to enter the—­”

“The distinguished service of a Lady of Honour.”  As one looked upon her great beauty, ’twas a wonder she was not born a queen.

Upon hearing the maid’s words, Constance in jealous rage fell to inordinate laughter and shook her work to the floor, and as Lord Cedric stooped to regain it he whipped out,—­

“And why, pray, art thou so amused; ’tis most like Julian to promote this idea, and she will straightway wish to leave us.  I am sure one glimpse of her would set the whole court on fire.”

“Such startling metaphor, unless indeed thou dost allude to the colour of her hair!” She spoke with so much malice and hate Lord Cedric was stirred to amazement, and for the first time his eyes were opened to Constance’ hate of one whom he loved beyond all else on earth.  He had thought her merely jealous of the maid, but now he saw ’twas hatred.