The Duchess was almost speechless, partly through genuine horror, but chiefly because a sweet, fresh face was pressed closely to her old cheek. "'Twas not the Earl of Norfolk," continued Ursula meditatively. She seemed quite unconscious of the enormity of her offence, and sought the eyes of her young friends in confirmation of these various surmises. "He cannot write verses. Nor could it be my lord of Overcliffe, for he would not know where to find my stockings." "The vanity of the child!" sighed Her Grace. "Think you these great gentlemen would write verses to a chit of a girl like you?" But her kind eyes, resting with obvious pride on the dainty figure beside her, belied the severity of her words. "Yes," replied Ursula decisively, "bad ones!--not such beautiful verses as these." Then she went on with her conjectures. "And there's my lord of Everingham, and the Marquis of Taunton, and----" "His Grace of Wessex," suggested Alicia archly, despite the Duchess's warning frown. "Alas, no!" sighed Ursula, "for he has never been allowed to see me." "Ursula!" came in ever-recurring feeble protests from the old dowager. But the young girl was wholly unabashed. "But he _will_ see me--before to-night," she said. The others exchanged significant glances. "To-night?" "Yes! What have I said? Why do you all look like that?" "Because your conduct, child, is positively wanton," said the Duchess. But Ursula only hugged the kind old soul all the more closely. "Now--now," she coaxed, "don't be angry, darling. There!--look!" she added with mock horror, "your coif is all awry." With deft fingers she rearranged the delicate lace cap over Her Grace's white curls. "So," she said, "now you look pretty again--and your nice, fat cheeks have the sweetest of dimples. Nay, I vow, all these young gallants only sigh with love for me because _you_ frown on them so!" "What a madcap!" sighed the Duchess, mollified. "You won't be angry with me?" queried the girl earnestly. "Nay! that depends what mad pranks you have been after." "Sh--sh!--sh!--'tis a deadly secret. Barbara, Alicia, come a little closer." She paused a moment, whilst all three of them crowded round Her Grace of Lincoln's chair. Then Ursula said solemnly-- "The Queen is in love with my future husband!" The Duchess of Lincoln nearly fell backwards in a faint. "Ursula!" she gasped. "Nay, that's not the secret," continued Ursula, quite unperturbed, "for that is town-talk, and every one at Court knows that she won't let him see me for fear he should fall in love with me. And my lord Cardinal is furious because he wants the Queen to marry Philip of Spain, and he is wishing His Grace of Wessex down there, where all naughty Cardinals go." "Child! . . . child! . . ."