Mary did not destroy Brandon’s note, despite the fact that her sense of dignity had been disturbed by it, but after she had read it slipped off into her private room, read it again and put it on her escritoire.  Soon she picked it up, reread it, and, after a little hesitation, put it in her pocket.  It remained in the pocket for a moment or two, when out it came for another perusal, and then she unfastened her bodice and put it in her bosom.  Mary had been so intent upon what she was doing that she had not seen Jane, who was sitting quietly in the window, and, when she turned and saw her, she was so angry she snatched the note from her bosom and threw it upon the floor, stamping her foot in embarrassment and rage.

“How dare you watch me, hussy?” she cried.  “You lurk around as still as the grave, and I have to look into every nook and corner, wherever I go, or have you spying on me.”

“I did not spy upon you, Lady Mary,” said Jane quietly.

[Illustration]

“Don’t answer me; I know you did.  I want you to be less silent after this.  Do you hear?  Cough, or sing, or stumble; do something, anything, that I may hear you.”

Jane rose, picked up the note and offered it to her mistress, who snatched it with one hand, while she gave her a sharp slap with the other.  Jane ran out, and Mary, full of anger and shame, slammed the door and locked it.  The note, being the cause of all the trouble, she impatiently threw to the floor again, and went over to the window bench, where she threw herself down to pout.  In the course of five minutes she turned her head for one fleeting instant and looked at the note, and then, after a little hesitation, stole over to where she had thrown it and picked it up.  Going back to the light at the window, she held it in her hand a moment and then read it once, twice, thrice.  The third time brought the smile, and the note nestled in the bosom again.

Jane did not come off so well, for her mistress did not speak to her until she called her in that evening to make her toilet.  By that time Mary had forgotten about the note in her bosom; so when Jane began to array her for the dance, it fell to the floor, whereupon both girls broke into a laugh, and Jane kissed Mary’s bare shoulder, and Mary kissed the top of Jane’s head, and they were friends again.

So Brandon accepted Mary’s invitation and went to Mary’s dance, but his going made for him an enemy of the most powerful nobleman in the realm, and this was the way of it.

These parties of Mary’s had been going on once or twice a week during the entire winter and spring, and usually included the same persons.  It was a sort of coterie, whose members were more or less congenial, and most of them very jealous of interlopers.  Strange as it may seem, uninvited persons often attempted to force themselves in, and all sorts of schemes and maneuvers were adopted to gain admission.  To prevent this, two guardsmen with halberds were stationed at the door.  Modesty, I might say, neither thrives nor is useful at court.