weigh upon thee. Thou knowest not
whether to wed or become a Lady of Honour. I will warn thee that thou
must not dwell long upon them, for 'tis possible if thou dost
not decide very early, I will be able to help thee to nothing
but--myself."

Mistress Penwick flushed warmly and smiled back at him; and her desire
for admiration drove her on and on, and she soon forgot all else save
the man by her side, and it appeared that no matter how he tried to
break the spell of her witchery, he could not leave her for a moment.

It fell out that before three days had passed, they were deep in
admiration of each other. Cedric was racked by doubt and fear, yet
never for an instant letting go his faith in Julian. Constance was
happy that Katherine was so diverted, keeping thereby Cedric from any
rash moves, and giving herself time to visit the tree that often held
so much of importance. And she managed to outwit the ubiquitous Janet
and hailed with joy the day of the great battle when Mistress Penwick
was to be removed from her pathway forever.

The disappearance of Adrian Cantemir was not spoken of--as if 'twere
a matter of too small import;--and yet he hovered ominously in their
minds; and Katherine most of all desired to forget her promise and
every word she had spoken to him, and Constance understood and would
not let her forget, planning night and day to bring them together
again....

To look back from the lower terrace at the castle was to see a
gorgeous display of blossom. The ivy-clad walls stood a rich
background to the splendour of tinted flower. Indeed, the scene
appeared not unlike an enormous nosegay lying upon a hill of moss. The
night had brought showers, and from every minute projection of twig,
leaf or petal glistened limpid drops, some swelling with honey
and falling like dew upon the young sward. The birds twittered
ceaselessly, and some young thing preening upon a light blossomy twig
scattered down, anon, perfume upon some shy young fawn, and he leapt
away frightened by so dainty a bath and plunged knee-deep in crystal
pools and sent the stately swans skimming hurriedly to a quiet and
sheltered cove.

From the Chapel came indistinctly the sound of the organ in a prelude,
it would seem, to the day. 'Twas Sir Julian's wont to rise early and
draw--it may be--inspiration from the full vibrant chords of sweet
harmony.

From an upper casement leant forth Mistress Penwick with a face as
delicately tinted as the b