The maid wore a pale-hued brocade gown of sweeping length of skirt, and short, round bodice and low-neck and long sleeves that tightly encased her plump, pink arms.  Her mother’s pearls lay glistening about her slender neck, and falling low was caught again by some caprice of mode high where met sleeve and waist, and here a rare bunch of fragrant violets shone bravely as a shoulder knot.

Lord Cedric saw her first, and was well-nigh drunk with her beauty, and he advanced and bent low, kissing her hand that trembled in his own.  He raised his eyes to hers, she looking fairly at him with a ready smile.

“Kate, Kate—­” Such a flood of emotion came upon him he was bereft of speech.  She looked at him surprised, and wondered if he knew aught.  Could it be that Sir Julian had found out anything and had spoken to Cedric?  She was sure she had kept this last secret safe from all save Constance, and had not been with Sir Julian for a whole day, fearing he would find out by looking at her.  Nay, he knew nothing,—­beside, if he did, he would shield her from Cedric’s anger by keeping so great a secret.  And yet it almost seemed as if the young lord knew of her desperate act; ’twas written on his face, she saw the pain upon it; and yet, how could it be?  These thoughts flashed through Katherine’s brain, and she tried to move from him, but an inscrutable presence held her, and she felt she must not leave him, perhaps forever, with that face so full of pain, and she spoke out a word she had never used before and one which touched his Lordship as nothing else could, ’twas: 

“Cedric.”  He caught his breath with sheer excess of joy, and bent again and whispered,—­

“What, Kate; what is it?” ’Twas enough, she laughed quietly and turned to Sir Julian, who had come to her side.  Lady Constance was not long in finding an opportunity to speak alone with her.

“Oh, sweet,” she said.  “I haven’t had a chance to talk with thee of my adventure,” and she drew the maid aside and began volubly to speak of her encounter of the early morning.  “He was most certainly of the Court.  I cannot possibly mistake his manner.  Indeed, I am certain he is a noble lord, and no doubt is here to bear Cantemir escort—­perhaps—­” and she leant close to Katherine—­“it might be the King himself, who knows?” Her listener flushed and thought—­

“Was it possible she was to receive such honour, and why not?” She had heard from Constance and Cantemir himself that his house was a very wealthy and important one in Russia and that the English royalty and nobles made much of him.  She, with her poor knowledge of the world, thought Constance spoke truth.

“I’ll tell thee why I thought he was the King.  He was the form, grace and elegance of his Royal Highness and kept his masque securely tied.  I’m sure it was he.  And this evening,—­ah, ah, how can I ever tell thee, Katherine, the honour I felt!  Indeed we do not know how important Adrian is until we see those with whom he consorts.  To-night I met—­who dost guess it was, Katherine?”