olefully, "and I shall put him
out of my thoughts if I can, as soon as I can."

"It must be done now," I returned emphatically.

"Ay, it is easy to say 'now,' but 'now' is a hard, hard time. It is much
easier to do a difficult thing to-morrow. But do not fear, Baron Ned. It
shall be done, and I shall marry a duke or an earl, loathing him."

She was almost ready to weep, so, believing that she would like to be
alone, I left her.

Within half an hour she was at home, sitting in a low chair by her
father's side, laughing, happy, and beautiful, with that rare,
indefinable home charm a woman may have which is as far beyond the mere
beauty of hair and skin and eyes as the sparkle of a bright mysterious
star is beyond the beauty of the moon's pale sheen.

With all my cousin's marvellous beauty, her rarest charm lay in her
gracious manner, her unobtrusive vivacity, and her quaint combination of
Sarah's Machiavellian wisdom with the intense femininity of Eve. Add to
these qualities the unmistakable mark which a pure heart leaves on the
face, and we complete the picture of one who in a short time was
acknowledged to be without a peer in Whitehall, the most famous beauty
court the world has ever known.

Before I left Sundridge it had been agreed among us all that Frances
should go to London, though the plans had not been arranged nor the time
fixed. There was no need of haste, as the choosing of the maids would not
be closed for two months or more. I left with my uncle funds necessary
for the purchase of gowns, and the payment of other expenses, and, with
his consent, undertook to notify the Duchess of York that Frances would
seek to enter her Grace's service in the near future. Then I went back to
London, and when next I saw my cousin it was in the shadow of a tragedy.

My uncle's humble friend, Roger Wentworth, the leather merchant of
Sundridge, had a brother living in London, who was also a leather
merchant, Sir William Wentworth. He had been Lord Mayor at one time, and
had been knighted by the king because of a loan made by the city to his
Majesty. Sir William was an honest, simple man, who cared little to rise
above his class, but he had a wife who thrilled to the heart whenever she
heard the words "Lady Wentworth," and experienced a spasm of delight
whenever she saw her name in the news letters or journals.

Sir William had a son, also, who imagined himself to be ornamental, but
laid no claim to usefulness of any sor