She found that almost every lady had resumed her mask, on the pretence, common in that day, of guarding her complexion from the air. The company had broken up into various groups, and were scattered over the grounds in the moonlight, with the liberty which Anne of Denmark encouraged in the court; and as soon as the Queen saw Arabella, she exclaimed, "Away, away, my pretty cousin! Find thee a mate for the evening. We have cast off royal restraints, and for the next hour are as free as the wind." Arabella looked round, but the mate whom her heart would have fondly sought for that hour, or for the whole of life, was not near; and, fixing hastily upon good Sir Harry West, she advanced to the place where he stood, saying, "Come, my dear good friend, the Queen wills that I choose a partner for the evening's gossip, and so I will inflict myself on you." "Alas, lady," replied the old knight, walking on by her side; "you might have chosen a younger and a gayer heart." "A younger, but not a gayer," replied Arabella, in a cheerful tone; "for we will be as merry as skylarks together. What is there in the world worth being sad about?--When one has found out that love sooner or later waxes cold; that hope goes out at last like an exhausted lamp; that courtesy has its changes, like every other fashion; that temperance and soberness can give up their place among the virtues to drunkenness and excess--what is there in the world sufficiently valuable to make us give it a sigh when we see it passing away?" "Right gloomy merriment, dear lady!" answered the knight, with a shake of the head; "but yet not of the sort that falls upon old age. The shade upon you, is but that cast by some passing cloud, not the grey twilight of declining day.--What has happened? Has your bird got out of the cage, and flown away? "No," replied Arabella, quickly, "he has come back again and pecked my hand.--But here hurries Lord Rochester.--In pity leave me not.--Ha! who is that sweet lady joins him now, and hangs upon his arm?" she continued, speaking to herself "Many thanks, fair dame!--many thanks for keeping him from me.--I pray thee hold him fast--and she does too! Who can that be, Sir Harry?" "The Countess of Essex, I think," answered the knight. "Oh no," replied Arabella, "she had on a robe of amber and silver--that is dark blue or green, I think." "She has had time to change it," said the knight, "and she it certainly is. That queenly, yet impetuous step is not to be mistaken, nor that glorious form, harbouring--what?" "I know not," replied Arabella; "we are but little acquainted." "Ay, who shall say?" rejoined Sir Harry West, "at eighteen, who shall say, whether it be angel or devil? for the fallen Morning Star shone once as bright as the best in heaven."