herself upon the saddle, in lieu of the fine courtesy
she would have swept had her position been more favourable. His
words--such gloriously sweet words when uttered by the lips of a
Duke--fed her vanity. Her face flushed as she thought of what his
love must be. He saw his vantage and drew nearer--it may be a hair's
breadth over the line of respect--indeed 'twould have been an
innovation had he not done so, as the time warranted nothing else but
a show at virtue.

"Your Grace finds a maid that is heart whole; but I would aid others
to their desire. I but act as post-boy 'twixt tree and castle."

"Thou art cold and cruel. I can see well thou dost hold tightly to thy
bosom thy billet; thou art afraid 'twill betray thee. Thou art the
maid herself that doth own it?" Constance had a burning curiosity to
know why Monmouth was in the neighbourhood of Crandlemar, and though
he insinuated he had come purposely to see her, yet she was not blind
and wondered what diplomacy she could use to gain from him the desired
knowledge. Could it be possible he had come on behalf of the King,
and if so, for what business? The Catholics surely had not been so
indiscreet as to allow their affairs to reach the King's ears? And if
so, why should he send to them? It was not at all likely any one knew
of the monastery so hidden away in a dense forest. Could it be that
the beauty of Mistress Penwick had become notorious at Whitehall and
that the Duke was hunting for her? These thoughts passed speedily
through her brain, while the ogling Monmouth waited for her answer to
his accusation. She spoke with a shy little twist of her head, vainly
trying to blush like little innocence.

"How can I hold out against thee, Duke? Thou dost steal my secret;
here, then, read it for thyself." With a lightening glance he finished
reading what he had begun before.

"I was right, sweet Katherine; 'tis a trysting letter, and thou art
to go to him to-night at nine? Thou shalt not; I'll have thee for
myself." Now they had made a great mistake. Constance thought to
convince the Duke she had no lover. He misunderstood and believed
her to be the Katherine he had come after. She, thinking to gain his
secret, allowed him to think so, and quickly took up her new part.

"Thou dost embarrass me, Duke!"

"In very truth," said he, "we have heard of thy great beauty at
Whitehall, and have come hither to claim thee for ourselves. Thou
shalt be my very own, sweet Katherine. Th