“Not entirely, I fear, your Highness,” replied D’Egmont, “though she said little to warrant such a conclusion.” “You were careful not to alarm her?” said Philip, turning to Osbert. “She pressed me very shrewdly,” replied the young man, “but I trust I succeeded in allaying her suspicions, which were evidently aroused by the description I was obliged to give of your fair deliverer, Constance Tyrrell. Her Majesty inherits something of the disposition of her august sire, and is inclined to jealousy.” “That does not augur well for my future comfort. Jealousy in a wife is intolerable,” replied Philip. “Let us see what is said in her letter,” he added, opening it. “There is nothing here but congratulations on my safe arrival, and deep concern at the attack upon my person. Not a word as to my intended visit to Winchester. Apparently, her Majesty does not attach much credence to that part of the story.” “She is not easily imposed upon,” observed D’Egmont. “It must be admitted that your Highness has given her just cause for suspicion. She will not believe that eagerness to behold her induced you to quit the ship privily at night. Her penetration pointed to a different motive, and all she heard seemed to confirm her doubts. At one moment she had resolved to come over to Southampton, but fortunately she relinquished that design. Mischief might else have been made by the opponents to the marriage.” “Pshaw! I have no fears on that score,” said Philip. “But I am glad she did not come. She might have interfered with my plans.” At this moment an usher entered, stating that Mistress Constance Tyrrell was without, and besought an audience of the Prince. “By Saint Iago! this is better than I expected,” cried Philip, overjoyed. “Is she alone?” “No, your Highness,” replied the usher. “The lady abbess of St. Mary, Winchester, is with her.” “I would the lady abbess were in her nunnery, or anywhere but here!” exclaimed Philip, in a tone of pique. “Admit them.” On this the usher withdrew, and the next moment Constance entered the room, accompanied by a religious dame of very stately deportment. The abbess of Saint Mary was attired in a long black gown, the ample folds of which swept the ground. The sleeves of her robe were loose, and over her shoulders was spread a sable mantle, with a hood attached to it. A barbe of plaited linen covered the lower part of her face, and, with the close-drawn hood, effectually concealed her features. On the entrance of the two ladies, D’Egmont and Osbert retired. Stepping quickly towards Constance, Philip took her hand, preventing her from making the lowly obeisance she contemplated. After greeting her very courteously, he turned to the abbess, and saluting her respectfully, said,— “Holy mother, to what am I indebted for this visit? Can I serve you in aught?”