"The tangles would never submit, should I so leave it." "'Tis my delight to fuss with hair and thine is so beauteous--" she arose and went to Katherine and smoothed the amber threads--"See, when I turn it thus, 'tis like rare bronze, and when I place it to the light, 'tis a glorious amber. May I plait it for thee,--I should love so much to do it?" "If 'twill give thee pleasure thou mayest assuredly plait it," replied Katherine. Janet now watched for a whispered word or some sign of intercourse; but her vigilance was of no avail, for Lady Constance deftly placed a tiny paper in Mistress Penwick's hair and plaited tightly over it. "'Tis such a pleasure to fuss with hair--and such fine threads, too; indeed, I have half a mind to become a _peruquier_,--there, 'tis finished!" "How is his Grace, Lady Constance?" "He bids fair to pass a comfortable night,--'tis too bad his physicians cannot arrive before the day after the morrow. They have also sent for Sir Julian Pomphrey--a favourite of the duke and an intimate and college fellow of Lord Cedric. Sir Julian is a most wonderful man. When but nine years of age, he entered Eton school, and having pursued his studies there with great success for one of such light years, he was sent to travel upon the continent, where he studied in Geneva for some time; thence he went to Florence, remaining there many months,--afterward visiting Rome and Geneva and other continental cities of note. He returned to England a scholar, a soldier, a gallant, a conqueror of female hearts,--in brief, he holds all the requirements of a charming cavalier of King Charles' Court. He has modish habits that so completely masque his strong will and determination that before one is aware they are caught and wound in the meshes of his duplicity. He is a literate, poet and musician." "Thou dost indeed stir me to great interest, Lady Constance; he must be a wonderful man. It seems we seldom have so many great qualities in one human being. He must be quite along in years?" "Nay, not at all! His very youthfulness is what makes him such a wonder. If I remember rightly, he is but two years senior of Cedric, and I will venture there is not ten pounds' difference in their weight. They are very much the same mould, and their voices blend as one, but Cedric has the handsomer face. Sir Julian, however, has a countenance of no common order; 'tis like a rock of strength already well lined and marked by the passions that have swayed him to battle and death or--perchance a lover's intrigue. He is in great repute for his smile that is transcendent in its beauty, but one can never tell what note it rings, whether true or false; its condiment may be of malice, hate, reserve, flippancy, deception. And one looks on and fears to take part in his mirth, for the reason one knows not what lies beneath in Sir Julian's heart." "Indeed, and he is to arrive soon?--Sir Julian Pomphrey--I like the name!"