sking questions. She shelved the
doubt as to whether Patsy was under a misapprehension. Patsy was afraid.
Patsy had seen, therefore, the thing was so. That is the reason why
girls reveal themselves one to the other and why their friendships are
often durable. They may quarrel like two little spitfires, and mostly
do, but--they respect each other's intuitions.

So that as soon as Jean was in possession of Patsy's fear of an unknown
hovering danger, she called out to Stair, "Don't go far away--we may
need you!"

To understand Patsy's feeling it must be remembered that she had been
accustomed from her earliest infancy to hear of the wild deeds of the
King's sons--how this one had carried off an actress, another made prize
of a young lady of fashion--the Regent, the Dukes of York and Cumberland
had set the fashion. The younger princes had out-princed their elders,
and there was not a gossip in the countryside but could retail their
latest enormities with loud outcries of horror, yet with an undercurrent
of the curious popular feeling that, after all, it rather became young
princes so to misconduct themselves.

If the Duke of Lyonesse had been less talked about than his brothers, it
was only because his long residence abroad had blunted the edge of
calumny. For in his case the women were French or Austrians, and it
seemed quite natural that such things should befall "foreigners."

All this made a background to Patsy's fear of the Prince, but there
remained something else as well. Patsy had never been afraid before--and
she was not quite sure whether she liked it or not.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BLACK PEARL OF CAIRN FERRIS

"Never was such a pearl--a black pearl--yes, but worth a thousand of
your drowsy blondes. I am damnably obliged to that recruiting
fellow--what is his wretched Scotch name--oh, McClure--for signalling
such a treasure to a man who can appreciate her. You, Laurence, would
have been long enough without opening your mouth. You had, I dare say,
some idea of paying court in that quarter on your own account. Well, I
am your superior officer and you must stand aside. But if you back me up
now, I swear that you shall be gazetted Colonel in a month."

It was thus that the Duke of Lyonesse, in the guest-chamber which Julian
Wemyss had prepared for him, announced his intentions as to the niece of
his host and sometime chief. The young men of the blood royal in those
days considered such things as marks of h