rshire knew how they
were in love with each other when she was Mistress Wildairs--until she
cast him off for my Lord Dunstanwolde. 'Tis said she drove him to
ruin--but now he has come back to her, and all think she will remember
her first love and yield to him at last. And surely it would be a
pretty romance."

"Jack Oxon was not drove to ruin by her ladyship," cried Sir Chris;
"not he. But deep in love with her he was, 'tis sure, and had she been
any other woman she must have been melted by him. Ecod!" looking across
the room at the two, with a reflective air, "I wonder if she was!"

"But look at his eyes now," said my Lady Betty, giving a side glance at
his Grace. "They glow like fire, and wheresoever she moves he keeps
them glued on her."

"She doth not keep hers glued on him," said Sir Chris, "but looks away
and holds her head up as if she would not see him."

"That is her way to draw him to her," cried Lady Betty. "It drives a
man wild with love to be so treated--and she is a shrewd beauty; but
when he can get near enough he stands and speaks into her ear--low,
that none may listen. I have seen him do it more than once, and she
pretends not to hearken, but hears it all, and murmurs back, no doubt,
while she seems to gaze straight before her, and waves her fan. I heard
him speak once when he did not think me close to him, and he said,
'Have you forgot--have you forgot, Clorinda?' and she answered then,
but her words I did not hear." She waved her painted fan with a
coquettish flourish. "'Tis not a new way of making love," she said with
arch knowingness. "It hath been done before."

"He hath drawn near and is speaking to her now," said Sir Chris,
staring wonderingly, "but I swear it does not look like love-making.
He looks like a man who threatens."

"He threatens he will fall on his sword if she will not yield," laughed
Lady Betty. "They all swear the same thing."

My lord Duke moved forward. He had heard this talk often before during
the past weeks, and he had seen this man haunting her presence, and
always when he was near or spoke to her a strange look on her face, a
look as if she made some struggle with herself or him--and strangest of
all, though she was so gracious to himself, something in her eyes had
seemed to hold him back from speaking, as if she said, "Not yet--not
yet! Soon--but not yet!" and though he had not understood, it had
bewildered him, and brought back a memory of the day she had sate i