"Or without my Grace's leave! That is what you mean," she retorted pettishly, a red spot in each cheek. "When people will not do what I ask, it is always, Grace! Grace! Grace! But I know them now." I dared not smile; and I would not look up, lest my heart should fail me and I should give her her way. "You foolish boy!" she again said, and sniffed. Then with a toss of her head she went away, her husband following her obediently. I feared that she was grievously offended, and I got up restlessly and went across the deck to the rail on which Mistress Anne was leaning, meaning to say something which should gain for me her sympathy, perhaps her advice. But the words died on my lips, for as I approached she turned her face abruptly toward me, and it was so white, so haggard, so drawn, that I uttered a cry of alarm. "You are ill!" I exclaimed. "Let me call the Duchess!" She gripped my sleeve almost fiercely, "Hush!" she muttered. "Do nothing of the kind. I am not well. It is the water. But it will pass off, if you do not notice it. I hate to be noticed," she added, with an angry shrug. I was full of pity for her and reproached myself sorely. "What a selfish brute I have been!" I said. "You have watched by me night after night, and nursed me day after day, and I have scarcely thanked you. And now you are ill yourself. It is my fault!" She looked at me, a wan smile on her face. "A little, perhaps," she answered faintly. "But it is chiefly the water. I shall be better presently. About that letter--did you not come to speak to me about it?" "Never mind it now," I said anxiously. "Will you not lie down on the rugs awhile? Let me give you my place," I pleaded. "No, no!" she cried impatiently; and seeing I vexed her by my importunity, I desisted. "The letter," she went on; "you will open it by and by?" "No," I said slowly, considering, to tell the truth, the strength of my resolution, "I think I shall not." "You will! you will!" she repeated, with a kind of scorn. "The Duchess will ask you again, and you will give it to her. Of course you will!" Her tone was strangely querulous, and her eyes continually flashed keen, biting glances at me. But I thought only that she was ill and excited, and I fancied it was best to humor her. "Well, perhaps I shall," I said soothingly. "Possibly. It is hard to refuse her anything. And yet I hope I may not. The girl--it may be a girl's secret." "Well?" she asked, interrupting me abruptly, her voice harsh and unmusical. "What of her?" She laid her hand on her bosom as though to still some secret pain. I looked at her, anxious and wondering, but she had again averted her face. "What of her?" she repeated. "Only that--I would not willingly hurt her!" I blurted out.