or tender sigh, should win her yet. No matter if the rose faded, if it could be no rose to him. Then, then he would wed the lovely and uncertain Beatrix Blancheflower. Still he lingered. 'Deborah! Deborah!' In all Enderby there is no light; and no light in Kingston's soul. CHAPTER THE TENTH. It was late in the morning before they met. Deborah was all sunshine and gaiety. Womanlike, she lived in the present, and realised no Enderby and no future without Kingston Fleming; the interchange of words and looks was enough for her. He turned his face aside, that she might not see how haggard it was, and was angry with her for her happiness. Adam Sinclair came that day to Enderby, and Deborah played a dangerous part, but with infinite spirit, grace, and charm, so that it set the young man and the old man hating one another, as men can hate in jealousy. But Master Sinclair was the favoured one, and saw it. What was Master Fleming but a kinsman and a brother? So Master Sinclair rode off more madly possessed than ever, and darkly revolving plans; for Mistress Fleming he would wed, by fair means or by foul. But the youthful beauty was not pleased. Kingston had seemed tenderer the day before; his eyes had looked admiration of her beauty; he had watched her, and given her his troubled confidence and affection. She loved him better then. Ah, he was content. He had heard from Mistress Blancheflower! and he cared not if she, Deborah, encouraged and even wedded old Adam Sinclair. So the rapid thoughts fled through Deborah's mind. No; she would not be treacherous to Mistress Blancheflower, she _would not_; but she could not bear this coldness! He was leaning from the window, and watching Mrs Dinnage, who sat below at her work in the sunny courtyard, while her sworn friend and foe, Dame Marjory, fed the pigeons. Deborah went and leaned beside the window. 'Wilt ride, King? We may not have steeds to offer long.' 'Nay; I will have none of your rides. I prefer watching Mistress Dinnage. She is pretty. All girls are pretty.' 'Ye are not gracious, Master Fleming. See if I ask ye again! Now there is one, Master Adam Sinclair, Lord of Lincoln, would ride to the world's end for me.' 'He can ask for favours in return; one day ye will pay him dearly.' 'How so, bird of ill omen?' 'With yourself.' 'Master Kingston Fleming, I do not need your auguries; once before I told you so.' He looked up and flashed a smile--most mocking, or most tender? She leaned from the window at his side. 'You are happier to-day, King: you can taunt.' 'O ay, I can always do that.--How pretty is Mistress Dinnage!' 'I am glad she pleases you.' 'Give me a rose, Deb, for peace.' She gave him one. 'Throw it not to Mistress Dinnage now; she would only scorn your offering.' Kingston touched the flower with his lips. Deborah blushed. 'If I may not kiss the Rose par excellence,' said he, 'I will kiss "the Rose's" rose.' 'Ye talk nonsense. Poetry does not suit you, King.'