Now, as she sat, gazing out on the quiet scene with unregarding eyes, and obsessed with the sole thought that she was the most aggrieved and weary-spirited woman in the world, she heard a sound in the room behind her, and turned to see her second brother, young Arran. He minced forward, the darling, and saluted her with the most unimaginable grace, though there was certainly a little tell-tale flush on his callow cheek. “Thithter Kit,” quoth he, “I have taken the privilege of a brother to introduth a vithitor to your private apartment.” “A visitor!” She rose, uncertain, to her feet, and was aware, with a little shock of the blood, of the figure of the Duke of York standing in the doorway. His Royal Highness, with a grave smile, in which there was nevertheless a touch of anxiety, advanced into the room, closing the door behind him. “Uninvited, but not too greatly daring, I hope,” said he. “Formality, ceremonial, were all incompatible with the boon we designed to ask of your ladyship.” A vivid flush would rise to her cheek; she could not help it, nor control, with all her will to, the self-conscious instinct betrayed in her drooped lashes. For a moment, in the embarrassment of her youth, she stood dumb before this realized liberty. “A privilege, your brother called it,” continued the Duke. “Then, if for him, how much more for me! Of its extent, believe me, I am so fully sensible, that, accepting your silence for condonation of my presumption, I hesitate to abuse a favour so freely vouchsafed by taking advantage of it to beg another.” She raised her lids, and again dropped them. The shadow of a smile twitched the corners of her mouth. And then her breath caught, suddenly and irresistibly, in a little half-hysterical laugh. The pomposity of this prelude was after all too much for her. “O, my lord Duke,” she said, “if I were to assume the nature of this favour from the solemnity of its introduction, I should have no alternative but to refuse it offhand, as implying something grave and weighty beyond my years. I pray you bear my youth in mind.” He smiled, relieved and at ease. “Most tenderly, madam. For all that resounding symphony, you shall find the piece, when we come to play it, a very _pastorale_ in lightness. Will you not be seated?” “By your favour, your Highness--when you have set me the example.” She sought to take refuge from her fluttering apprehensions behind that shy insistence on punctilio. The Duke bowed, and accepting a chair from his lordship of Arran, signified his entreaty that the lady should occupy another contiguous. Kate had no choice but to obey. She was not yet mistress of her blushes, and she blushed as she seated herself. But there was a strange excitement in her heart, nevertheless. “Now,” said his Highness, “I am in the position of a litigant, who hath engaged an advocate to plead his cause for him. So, like a sensible client, I leave the first word to him.”