by. Her pride was wrought upon. That any one should presume to love
her without thought of espousal! and Janet's words came back to her
with great force, making her see her error in accompanying the Duke.

There were a few hasty words spoken by the monk as he left her, and
passed through the postern-gate, where none save Eustis saw his tall
form. Katherine took her time, as she crossed the lawn to her former
seat, stopping here and there to gather a nosegay; exulting all the
time at his Grace's discomfort when he found her not within doors.
Suddenly she thought of Christopher and of what might happen to the
servants if the Duke undertook to vent his displeasure upon them. At
the thought, she leant forward, straining her ear for any signs of
violence; but she only heard Janet say,--

"My eyes have not been off her, your Grace. I'm just taking her a
wrap."

"Give it to me," the Duke said in a voice surprisingly calm and
gentle. It piqued Katherine. It was disappointing not to hear a
fierce voice like Cedric's was wont to be. She saw the Duke's form
silhouetted by a bush of white blossom and heard from his lips a
quaint love ditty. It so set her very susceptible heart to fluttering
she knew not whether to be glad or sorry that he was there. She was
weaving a garland in a peculiar manner learned at the convent. The
finished strands she placed under the bench upon which she sat,
pretending the while neither to see nor hear his Grace as he walked
about from bush to bush, singing softly. But he soon caught the
glimmer of her dress, and he came bounding toward her.

"Pray what does Mistress Penwick out alone on so dark a night?"

"Ah!"--she started in feigned alarm, dropping her flowers and rising
hurriedly--"'tis your Grace of Buckingham. I admit I was startled."
She made a sweeping courtesy.

"We who love never forget its voice, Mistress. I believed that thou
wouldst never be able to find it in Buckingham's tones; for if 'twas
there, thou only could note its tenderness." He so ignored her
feint--and she knew he understood that she knew not whether to keep up
her hypocrisy or recant.

"Didst see the King, your Grace, upon my affair?" He stooped to
recover the flowers she had dropped. She hindered him, fearing lest he
should see her schoolgirl play beneath the bench.

"Ah! ah! what hast thou hid there?" She exulted.

"Nothing, your Grace, only--the flowers are not worth the exertion."

"Aye, they are worth the bend