e some flower new bloomed.

Her house in town was thrown open again, and set in order for her coming.
She made her journey back in state, Mistress Anne accompanying her in her
travelling-coach. As she passed over the highroad with her equipage and
her retinue, or spent the night for rest at the best inns in the towns
and villages, all seemed to know her name and state.

"'Tis the young widow of the Earl of Dunstanwolde," people said to each
other--"she that is the great beauty, and of such a wit and spirit that
she is scarce like a mere young lady. 'Twas said she wed him for his
rank; but afterwards 'twas known she made him a happy gentleman, though
she gave him no heir. She wore weeds for him beyond the accustomed time,
and is but now issuing from her retirement."

Mistress Anne felt as if she were attending some royal lady's progress,
people so gazed at them and nudged each other, wondered and admired.

"You do not mind that all eyes rest on you," she said to her sister; "you
are accustomed to be gazed at."

"I have been gazed at all my life," my lady answered; "I scarce take note
of it."

On their arrival at home they met with fitting welcome and reverence. The
doors of the town house were thrown open wide, and in the hall the
servants stood in line, the housekeeper at the head with her keys at her
girdle, the little jet-black negro page grinning beneath his turban with
joy to see his lady again, he worshipping her as a sort of fetich, after
the manner of his race. 'Twas his duty to take heed to the pet dogs, and
he stood holding by their little silver chains a smart-faced pug and a
pretty spaniel. His lady stopped a moment to pat them and to speak to
him a word of praise of their condition; and being so favoured, he spoke
also, rolling his eyes in his delight at finding somewhat to impart.

"Yesterday, ladyship, when I took them out," he said, "a gentleman marked
them, knowing whose they were. He asked me when my lady came again to
town, and I answered him to-day. 'Twas the fair gentleman in his own
hair."

"'Twas Sir John Oxon, your ladyship," said the lacquey nearest to him.

Her ladyship left caressing her spaniel and stood upright. Little Nero
was frightened, fearing she was angered; she stood so straight and tall,
but she said nothing and passed on.

At the top of the staircase she turned to Mistress Anne with a laugh.

"Thy favourite again, Anne," she said. "He means to haunt me, now we ar