Frances laughed uneasily, for she knew she was hearing the truth, disguised as a jest.  After a moment’s silence, she asked:—­

“May I not at least try to please your Grace?  And may I not seek your advice and thank you now and then for a reprimand?”

“Yours is the first request of the sort I have ever heard from a maid of honor, and I shall take you at your word,” said the duchess.  “I’m not posing as the head of a morality school, but if I may, I shall try to be your guide.”

Lady Wentworth was almost comatose with pride—­“pride on the brain” Frances afterwards called it.

Presently her Grace continued seriously.  “The king will make love to you on sight.  If he fails in obtaining a satisfactory response, he may affect to be offended for a few days, during which time my husband may try his hand.  Failing, he will smile and will withdraw to make room for Rowley’s return attack.  Rowley’s return will be in earnest, and then will come your trial, for the whole court will fawn upon you, will lie about you, and beg your favor for them with the king.”

“Surely it is a delightful prospect,” returned my cousin, smiling.

“Oh, delightful, delightful!” ejaculated Lady Wentworth in a semilucid interval.

“Now I’ll send for the Mother of the Maids,” said her Grace, “who will show you to your rooms and instruct you in the duties, forms, and ceremonies of court.  I suppose you dance the country dances.  They are the king’s favorites.  He calls the changes.”

“Yes, your Grace,” answered Frances.

“And the brantle and the coranto?” asked the duchess.

“Yes, your Grace.”

“And do you play cards?”

“Yes, your Grace, but I loathe games.”

“Ah, I see you’re equipped,” said the duchess.  “But here comes the Mother of the Maids.”

The duchess presented Frances to the Mother, who presently led her forth across the threshold of a new life, destined to be filled with many strange happenings.

After leaving the Duchess of York, Frances and the Mother of the Maids entered the Stone Gallery, half the length of which they would have to traverse before reaching the door that entered the narrow corridor leading to the apartments of the maids of honor.  Midway in the gallery, a man, evidently in wine, accosted Frances without so much as removing his hat.

“Ah, ah!  Whom have we here?” he asked, winking to the Mother of the Maids.

Frances was astonished and a little frightened, but she soon brought herself together and retorted:—­

“What is it to you, sir, whom we have here?”

At once it occurred to Frances that the impertinent man was either the king or the duke, but she hid her suspicion.

“Much it is to me, fair mistress,” returned the gentleman, taking off his hat and bowing.  “The sun shines for all, and when one dare be as beautiful as yourself, all men may bask in the radiance and may ask, ‘What new luminary is this?’”