came to my throat, but in a moment I was able to say: "Do
not fear, uncle, do not fear! Rather, rejoice! Let me be your staff, your
courage, your strength! Think it over till morning, and then give your
consent with the full assurance that it will mean happiness for the girl
whom you and I so dearly love."

The old man rose, took my hand, held it in his feeble grasp for a moment,
and went to his room without another word.

As I was going down the narrow passageway to my bedroom, Frances opened
her door and asked: "What does father say? I know it almost kills him."

"Yes," I answered. "But he will consent in the morning."

Tears came to her eyes and she gave me her hand, saying: "Thank you,
brother Ned. We are wounding him only for his own sake. If it were not to
help him, all the wealth in the world would not tempt me to give him this
pain nor to go to Whitehall, for I fear the place."

As she stood at the door, candle in hand, her low-cut gown exposing her
beautiful throat with its strong full curves, its gleaming whiteness and
the pulsing hollow at the base, her marvellous hair of sunlit gold
hanging in two thick braids to below her waist, her sweet oval face of
snowy whiteness, underlaid with the faint pink of roses, her great
luminous eyes with their arched and pencilled brows, and the tears
pendant from the long black lashes, I could not help knowing that there
was not in all Whitehall beauty to compare with hers. And when her full
red lips parted in a tearful smile, showing a gleam of ivory between
their curving lines, I knew that if our king were an unmarried man, she
could be our queen, but barring that high estate, I felt sure that a
score of titles and great fortunes would lie at her feet before she had
been a month in Whitehall. That is, I knew all this would happen if she
kept her head. The king himself would be her greatest danger, for in a
way, he was handsome of person when he kept his mouth closed, and even a
little beauty in a king, like a candlelight in a distant window, shines
with magnified radiance.

I went to bed that night having great faith in my cousin's strength and
discretion, but my confidence was to receive a shock the next day.

CHAPTER II

A MAIDEN ST. GEORGE

After breakfast the following morning, while Sir Richard and I were
sipping our morning draught in the dingy little library, he brought up
the subject of the night before.

"As you justly observed, Baron Ned," my