and
holy eye, letting it fall upon the animated, restless face of her
companion, and then shading its glory by the long silken lashes that
almost rested on the exquisitely moulded cheek. It was this peculiar
look that made her lively friend usually designate her "the awful
beauty."

Still curiosity, that most busy and feminine sprite, tortured the Lady
Frances with extraordinary perseverance; and, in the end, it suddenly
occurred to her that Barbara might know or conjecture something about
the matter: accordingly, at night, she dismissed her own women, under
some pretext or other, to their chambers, and summoned the pretty
Puritan to wait at her toilet. Poor Barbara was as neat and as docile a
maid as any country gentlewoman could desire; but, as she had never
accompanied her ladies to court, to which, because of Lady Cecil's
illness, they had been rare visiters of late, she felt somewhat nervous
on being called into active duty by so great a personage as the Lady
Frances Cromwell. With trembling hands she unlaced the velvet bodice,
released the tiny feet from their thraldom, set loose the diamond clasps
of the sparkling stomacher; and, after arraying the lady in a wrapping
robe of fringed linen, with point-lace collar, commenced the
disentangling of her raven hair: this was a task that required skill and
patience. Nature had been so bountiful to her own fair mistress, that
her hair needed no art to increase either its quality or quantity: the
simple Barbara consequently stood aghast when a vast portion of the
fabric fell to the ground the moment a little dark band had been
separated from the pretty head of the more courtly maiden. Frances
laughed as the girl's astonished features were reflected in the polished
mirror before which she sat: so evident was her dismay, as she held it
forth, exclaiming, "I did not pull it off, my lady----"

"Ah, wicked wench! so you would rob _my_ head as well as your lady's.
Now, Barbara, tell me truly, what didst do with that same lock I missed
this morning?"

"I, my lady?"

"Yes, you. No one else, I suppose, dresses your lady's hair."

"That may be; but I assure your ladyship I never cut off that curl:--it
is quite wonderful!"

"So it is, as you say, like a very sensible girl, 'quite wonderful;'
but, Barbara, do you think you could find out who did cut it off?"

"Not unless my lady would tell me."

"But is there no way?"

"Only by asking my lady, and that I could not presume