my life. After his first boldness, he was always courteous. He
never again became familiar, but seemed to try only to convince me of his
regard in most respectful terms, and--and I listened all too willingly,
but made no answer save what I could not conceal in my manner. That, I
fear, was answer all too plain. But now you have opened my eyes, and I
see clearly. I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay."

"If you go to court, this affair will have been a good lesson," I
returned encouragingly. "For there you must learn to despise the
proffered love of men, whether it be pretended or real, until one comes
who is worthy of you in person, wealth, and station."

"Yes, I shall," she answered earnestly. "But here we are at home. As you
suggest, let us not speak of this poor little affair."

"By no means," I answered, as I opened the gate.

"And Baron Ned," she said, holding me back for a moment, "have no fear
that I shall lose my heart at court to the detriment of my fortune. I may
not consider myself--only my father and my house. It is my duty to make
him happy, and I am going to do it without regard to any other purpose in
life. My having known Master Hamilton will not only keep other men out of
my heart, but will help me to know them and will lead me to fear them
when I go to court."

Later in the evening my cousin and I walked out in town, and I had a long
talk with her, partly concerning Hamilton, a theme to which she always
returned, and partly concerning conditions she would meet if she became a
maid of honor. And my faith in her grew as we talked.

That night I went to sleep convinced that my beautiful cousin was strong
enough and shrewd enough to evade all the pitfalls of Whitehall, and that
her experience with Hamilton had been the one thing needful to make her
keenly alive to her danger. I felt that she was safe, but--

Near the hour of two o'clock the next afternoon, Sir Richard and I,
returning from a short walk, did not find Frances at home, so I made my
way to the Bourne Path, thinking it hardly possible that in the face of
yesterday's events Frances could have gone to meet Hamilton. Still one
can never tell; therefore I took the benefit of the doubt and set forth
to make sure.

When perhaps two miles from Sundridge, the day being warm, I climbed to a
ledge of rock on the shelving bank of the bourne, twelve or fifteen feet
above the path, and sat down to rest in the cool shade of a clump of
bushe