“Odds fish!  But you made a mess of it!  You got the wrong woman!  Who in the devil’s name did you pick up?”

I could not stop to hear the rest of this interesting conversation, but two days later I heard from Rochester, who had it from Wentworth, that the following occurred:—­

“We thought we had her,” answered Berkeley, nodding towards Frances, “but the woman wore a full vizard and was wrapped in furs to her ears, so that we did not see her face.”

“Do you suppose we could have made a mistake?” asked Wentworth.

“You surely did,” answered the king.  “She has established an alibi.  At what hour did you leave Baynard’s Castle?”

“Near one o’clock,” returned Berkeley.

“One o’clock!  She was playing cards with the duchess till four,” exclaimed the king, impatiently.  “You picked up the wrong woman.  But I’m glad you did.  I suppose the lampooners will get hold of the story and will set every one laughing at me.  Kidnapped the wrong woman and lost her!  Odds fish!  But you’re a pair of wise ones.  I see I shall have to find me a new Lord High Kidnapper.”

The king was right concerning the lampooners, for soon they had the story, and he became the laughing-stock of London, though Frances’s name was not mentioned.

It is a significant index to the morals of our time that the king’s attempt to kidnap a woman in the streets of London should have aroused laughter rather than indignation.

As it was, the kidnapping episode brought no harm to my cousin, but she did not want it to happen again, and so was careful to take a trusted escort with her when she went abroad thereafter.

CHAPTER X

AT THE MAID’S GARTER

Betty was confined to her room during the greater part of the next month, and Frances visited her frequently.  Notwithstanding my vows not to see Betty, I was compelled to go with Frances as her body-guard.  I even went so far in my feeble effort to keep my resolution as to suggest Churchill as a body-guard, but Frances objected, and the quality of my good intent was not enduring.  So I went with my cousin, and the joy in Betty’s eyes whenever we entered her room was not the sort that would come because she was glad to see Frances.

* * * * *

During the first week of Bettina’s illness she was too sick to talk, therefore we did not remain long with her.  But as she grew better our visits lengthened, and my poor resolutions grew weaker day by day because my love for the girl was growing stronger and stronger hour by hour.

On one occasion while Frances’s back was turned, Betty impulsively snatched up my hand and kissed it, dropping it instantly, blushing intensely and covering her tracks by humming the refrain of a French lullaby.  I longed to return the caress, but did not, and took great credit to myself because of my self-denial.  Betty understood my sacrifice and appreciated it, feeling sure that she need not thereafter restrain herself for the purpose of restraining me.