the house, since all the lights were out, and
everyone indeed must be abed. Her guardian's windows, moreover, gave on
the other side of the house; and he of a surety would not be moon or
star gazing at this hour of the night.

Her mood was somewhat reckless. The talk with which he had filled her
ears had gone to her brain like wine. She felt intoxicated with the
atmosphere of mystery, of selfless patriotism, of great and fallen
fortunes, with which he knew so well how to surround himself. Mayhap,
that in her innermost heart now there was a scarce conscious desire to
precipitate a crisis, to challenge discovery, to step boldly before her
guardian, avowing her love, demanding the right to satisfy it.

She refused to bid him adieu save at the garden door. Three steps led
up straight into the dining-room from the flagged pathway which skirted
the house. She ran up these steps, silently and swiftly as a little
mouse, and then turned her proud and happy face to him.

"Good-night, sweet prince," she whispered, extending her delicate hand
to him.

She stood in the full light of the moon dominating him from the top of
the steps, an exquisite vision of youth and beauty and romance.

He took off his broad-brimmed hat, but his face was still in shadow, for
the heavy perruque fell in thick dark curls covering both his cheeks. He
bent very low and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"When shall we meet again, my prince?" she asked.

"This day week, an it please you, my queen," he murmured.

And then he turned to go. She meant to stand there and watch him cross
the tangled lawn, and the little bridge, and to see him lose himself
amidst the great shadows of the park.

But he had scarce gone a couple of steps when a voice, issuing from the
doorway close behind her, caused her to turn in quick alarm.

"Sue! in the name of Heaven! what doth your ladyship here and at this
hour?"

The crisis which the young girl had almost challenged, had indeed
arrived. Mistress de Chavasse--carrying a lighted and guttering candle,
was standing close behind her. At the sound of her voice and Sue's
little cry of astonishment rather than fear, Prince Amede d'Orleans too,
had paused, with a muttered curse on his lips, his foot angrily tapping
the flagstones.

But it were unworthy a gallant gentleman of the most chivalrous Court in
the world to beat a retreat when his mistress was in danger of an
unpleasant quarter of an hour.

Sue was more than