“No, I cannot marry him because of father,” she answered, shaking her head dolefully.  “I must marry a rich man.  More than a month ago the Duke of Tyrconnel asked me to be his wife, as you know.  He seems to know that he must buy me if he would have me, so he tells me that he has forty thousand pounds a year, and offers to settle ten thousand a year on me if I will marry him.  I asked for a fortnight in which to consider his offer, and when the time was up I begged for another, which he granted, kindly saying that he did not want me to answer till I was sure of myself, even though the delay cost him a year’s happiness.  The time is almost up, and I must ask another extension; but I shall eventually take him, and then God pity me, for I know I shall die.”

“No, no, Frances,” I returned, trying to conceal my delight.  “You will be happy with Dick Talbot if you will thrust the other man out of your heart.”

“Thrust the other man out of my heart!” she exclaimed.  “It was never done by a woman.  She may be cured, I suppose, by time and conditions, but she can’t cure herself.  A woman’s heart is like a telescope.  It magnifies the man of her choice, but reverses and becomes a diminishing glass for all others.  But I shall accept Tyrconnel just as soon as I grow used to the thought of living with him.  Soon you will have accomplished your purpose in bringing me to court.”

“My purpose?” I asked in surprise.  “Was it not also your purpose?”

“I suppose it was, but I hate myself for having conceived it.  I’m learning to hate every one, the king more than any man, unless I except that little wretch, Jermyn, the court lady-killer.  What a despicable thing your lady-killer is!  Doubtless God created him to show by comparison the great worth of worms, snakes, and other reptiles.”

“What has Little Jermyn been doing?” I asked, amused at her vindictiveness.

“He has crushed so many hearts that he deems himself irresistible, and of late has been annoying me.  If by any chance he finds me alone, he importunes me to make a tryst with him and save him from death because of a broken heart.  I usually answer by walking away from him and try to show him that he is beneath even my contempt, but his vanity is so great that he imagines my manner to be the outgrowth of pique or a desire to lead him on.  Therefore when others are present, he gazes on me with down-bent head and eyes upturned from beneath his bulging forehead, as though he would put a spell upon me.”

“Well, let him gaze.  It can’t harm you,” I suggested.

“No, but it makes me ill,” she answered.  “Three nights ago I was standing with the king and several ladies and gentlemen, waiting for the country dance to begin, for which the king was to call the changes.  This Little Jermyn came up to the group, and, without speaking a word to any one, fixed his upturned eyes on me.”

“That was a sin,” I said, laughing, but she ignored my interruption.