Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"Somewhat, but I hate him most."
"Thou wilt impeach thy sweet tongue by that viscid 'hate'; thou hadst
better indulge in less of devil's warfare and leave room for digestion
of gentle peace. Thou hast bloomed into a beauteous maid, but thy
temper hath blown also. My lord hast seen many beauties that he could
have for the asking, and they are doubtless meek and gentle creatures
with soft and ready answer; but if thy cantankerous untowardness
continues he will set thee down as a shrewish wench and will heartily
dislike thee."
"Nay, I would not have any one dislike me."
"Then cease thy uprisings." There came a low knock, and an old
grey-haired woman stepped into the room with that in her face Janet
stood up to honour. She advanced to Katherine and in a trembling voice
said,
"Thou art my lord's ward,--ah, I remember thy father well; thou art a
Penwick over and over again, I could see it with half an eye. I knew
thy father when he was a mere lad, so high; he had as bonny a face as
one cared to see. They tell me thou didst expect to see here my poor
master; is't so? Aye,--well thou hast found his son, the blessedst man
that walks the earth. He has a wicked, bad tongue at times, but he
means nothing. I nursed him and his father, and am longing for a wife
for his lordship." Then: "I am Angel Bodkin, and have come to conduct
thee to the vaults." She led them forth, talking all the while.
CHAPTER V
BACCHUS AND BACCHANTES
Lady Constance had exhausted every means of procuring the desired
information concerning the strange beauty in her kinsman's castle; and
she became fretted and annoyed and was about to give up all hope, when
she came suddenly upon the object of her search in the corridor; and
the beauteous maid, grey-gowned and sandal-shoon, flitted by without
deigning so much as a look. And my Lady Constance swept by with hate
of this formidable creature in her evil heart. She felt it was almost
understood that Lord Cedric would espouse her; she, Lady Constance
Clarmot. To be sure, she was somewhat of riper years than he, but that
counted for naught since they had always loved each other. She was
of a great family and proud and had of her own, titles and estates
and--yes, beauty. She fell to thinking of the many ways in which
Cedric had shown his love for her. He had consulted her on all
occasions upon the most trivial matters until the present instance.
"Could it be possible she is some soft-natured wench that hath fallen
beneath his eye and charmed him, and he has brought her here? Nay,
nay, he would not bring such an one beneath his roof while I remained,
and yet I have but just come and he hath kept her hid; 'tis possible
he will send her away at once." She soliloquized thus until the
candles were brought, and the curtains drawn to shut out the storm,
and she sat beneath her maid's hands heeding naught save her bitter
thoughts. "What had become of Adrian? Why had he not been in to see
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