tment; but she
had heard the noisy greetings outside and had wondered who were the
victims. Beatrix's entrance and snapping eyes told her; and she met
her with a smile of sympathy.

"Do not mind them, dear," she said. "They mean nothing and you have
beard a dozen others treated so, under similar circumstances."

"I know . . . I know . . . Your Majesty," she replied, with nervous
energy . . . "but it was most annoying . . . and with Sir Aymer."

"I doubt not he would give much to know that fact," said the Queen with
an amused smile.

"It is because I fear he does know it that I am so vexed. By my faith,
I have made a merry mess of it all through this morning."

"The merriest mess and the best you could make, my dear girl,"
motioning her to a place on the couch, "would be to marry Sir Aymer de
Lacy."

The Countess gave a look of startled surprise--then dropped her head.

"And methinks," Anne went on, watching her closely, "that you are of
the same mind. Take your Queen's word, aye, and your King's as
well--for Richard has spoken of it--and quarter the red chevrons with
the silver stag."

The Countess was slowly tracing figures on the carpet with her riding
whip; and her mistress pressed on:

"You surely cannot hesitate from doubt of his affection. In a thousand
ways he shows you that. And certes you have had enough of suitors to
be able to weigh very scrupulously the faith they bring. He loves you
honestly. He is your equal in birth; and though his English title be
inferior to yours, he is a Count in France. Why not, my dear Beatrix,
be . . . kind to him?" and she put her arm about her.

"You are an earnest pleader, my dear mistress," said the Countess,
still busy with the carpet . . . "and, may be, not without cause. . .
Sir Aymer is all you aver . . . a braver Knight or truer heart I never
knew. . . And it would be false modesty to pretend I think he does not
love me. I did doubt it until lately, but the doubt has gone now.
Were I as sure of myself as I am of him, I would hold him off not a
moment longer--he might speak when he chose . . . and the quickest
would not be too quick for me . . . Indeed, sometimes I long for him
with eager heart; yet, when he comes, I grow weak in resolution and
from very timidity give him only chilly words."

The Queen drew her a little closer. "I understand, dear," she said.
"It was so with me when my own dear lord came wooing."

"And how did you . . . change?"