actor who was to be the go-between in his
wooing of Mistress Judith Ogilvie.

IX.

The following morning Judith Ogilvie awoke later than was her usual
custom. She yawned as though she were not fully refreshed by her
night's sleep. She rubbed her eyes, then stretched her arms high above
her head. Then she drew one hand back and looked long and somewhat
lovingly at a round piece of gold that the hand held. Then she kissed
the gold and blushed rosy red in the empty solitude of her own room.
At last, nestling down again among the bed covers, she laughed--and a
gurgling, rippling melody it was.

"So he'll win me in spite of my hatred," she murmured. "And yet--and
yet, methinks if any man could win me, without much wooing either,
'twould be no other than my cousin, Master Cecil Lindley. Heigh-ho!
He's a taking way with him, and who knows?--perhaps--yes, perhaps,
he'll take even me, after I've had out my play acting with him."

Doubtless, then, she drowsed again, for she was awakened once more by
a voice and a vehement pair of knuckles on her door.

"Master Ogilvie desires that you should descend at once to speak with
your cousin, Mr. Lindley," said the voice, when Judith had sleepily
ordered the knuckles to be silent.

"My cousin, Mr. Lindley?" questioned Judith. Even to the maid she
feigned surprise. "How and when came my cousin, Mr. Lindley?"

"In the night, some time, I believe," the voice answered. "He must
return to London in an hour's time, and he desires to see you and
speak with you."

"Say to Mr. Lindley that both he and Master Ogilvie, my father, know
well enough that Mistress Judith Ogilvie will hold no communication
whatsoever with Mr. Lindley. Furthermore say that--can you remember
all this, Marget?--say that if Mr. Lindley is unable to read the
letter lately written him by Mistress Judith Ogilvie, doubtless he
will find some clerk in London more versed in scholarly arts than he,
who will read it to him." The footsteps retreated slowly from the
door. "And, Marget, Marget," Judith called again, "when Mr. Lindley
has departed you may waken me again."

* * * * *

On that selfsame morning, the Lady Barbara Gordon also awoke late in
the house of her aunt, the wife of Timothy Ogilvie. She also seemed
little refreshed by her night's sleep. She also yawned and rubbed her
eyes and stretched her arms above her head. She also laughed, but
there was no rippling melody in the soun