,
represented in her famous gown, embroidered with eyes and ears--seeing
all, hearing all!

Marion laughed as she pointed to it. "It is all very well to say that
Good Queen Bess could never have visited half the places or slept in
half the rooms which boast of her occupation, but she really did stay
here. I'll show you her room to-morrow, and tell you all about it. I
don't think you would care to sleep in her bed, although you may if you
like. I wouldn't for worlds. It is too much like a catafalque. Now,
here you are arrived at last."

"I don't believe I shall ever find my way down," said Philippa. "I
never saw such passages. We seem to have walked for miles!"

"_Oh!_ we haven't really. It is quite easy. You'll soon get used to
it. You must turn twice to the right, that is all. But I'll come and
fetch you, so as to make sure that you don't get lost. Are you certain
that you have everything you want?"

"I am certain of it, in this charming room, and---- Oh, my dear!
Violets! How do you manage to have violets at this time of year?"

Philippa buried her face in a fragrant bunch which stood in a vase on
the dressing-table. "My favourite flower of all!"

"We always have them. There is a pitiful story attached to violets at
Bessacre, but that again must wait until to-morrow. Now I must fly. I
have only got twenty minutes to dress in, and Bill will be raging."

Philippa's maid had already unpacked, and she now quickly and deftly
assisted her to dress. The girl's clothes had been a constant cause of
irritation to her mother, whose taste for frills and fripperies did not
agree with her daughter's preference for simplicity, but she had been
reluctantly compelled to acknowledge that Philippa's style of dressing
was becoming, even if it did not follow strictly the ever-varying
dictates of fashion. Nothing could have suited her better than the
picturesque gown of pale yellow chiffon which she now put on. It was
very simply made, but the perfection of its simplicity, the draping of
the fichu of old lace on the bodice, and the graceful lines of the soft
material from waist to hem, betrayed its Parisian origin in every fold.

Round her neck Philippa fastened a narrow band of black velvet, and her
only ornament was a small brooch of pearls set in the form of a heart.
This trinket she had found in a dispatch-box belonging to her father,
while going through some papers after his death, and it was one she
fre