ther time, save when I am with thee thus, alone." And there was a
covert meaning in her flattery. "Now, my dear Katherine, if thou art
thus beset on the morrow, I will engage to come at thy retiring hour
and dress thy hair; 'twill give me such pleasure."

As Lady Constance retired from the chamber, Mistress Penwick stretched
her lithe body and yawned and expressed a desire for the bed. Soon
she was left alone, and she stole from her couch and knelt at the
hearthstone and read the missive eagerly and flushed not a little
at Count Cantemir's warm words of love that were a prelude to the
weightier matters appertaining. She crept back noiselessly and lay
pondering of many things. It seemed to her as if all earth breathed of
love; that she was the nucleus around which all flowers and perfume
and everything beautiful revolved. And now she was about to open a
mystic shrine, into which she would step and see and know and feel
with youth's ecstasy a strange development of essential existence. And
after wondering and speculating upon the affairs of love, she entered
into prayerful thought of Lord Cedric's servant, and soon fell into
sound slumber.

CHAPTER X

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BUTLERY

"'Behold thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast
dove's eyes within thy locks; thy hair is as a flock of goats, that
appear from Mount Gilead.

"'Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which come
up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren
among them.

"'Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely; thy
temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks.

"'Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, whereon
there hang a thousand buckles--'"

"Nay, nay, Janet, thou must not idolize me thus, 'tis--"

"Beshrew thy conceit. 'Tis Solomon I repeat. Thou were not thought of
when 'twas writ."

Katherine raised upon her elbow and looked surprised at Janet, who
knelt by the bed.

"Thy tongue is sharp, Janet, for a day yet in its swaddling hours."

"Aye, 'twill be whetted two-edged e'er the day waxes old. 'To
everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the
heaven; a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a
time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to
heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep,
and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dan