"A thing that means more to thee than aught else; 'tis an awful thing
if thou shouldst choose wrong!"
"Haste, wench, what is it?" Cedric was growing impatient.
"Thy kinswoman will bring thee a fine heir--"
"By God, the other will bring me a dozen then!"
"Nay, 'tis not so, she--" She stepped close to his ear and whispered.
"Thousand devils, thou infernal, lying pot-house brawler--" and Cedric
glared fiercely upon her and bent forward, his hand falling upon his
sword-hilt; then he grew red at his hot action, and looked about to
see if 'twas noticed. "Get thee gone, thou saucy, lisping minx." The
poor thing was well-nigh distraught with fear of this man whose anger
came like a thunderbolt, and she fell heavy upon the lackey who
conducted her forth. She slipped through the corridors like a fast
fleeting shadow, and Janet followed her close and saw her enter a
certain chamber apart where she was met by one of the dancers; and
'twas Lady Constance that threw from her the gipsy attire and put a
bag of gold in the celebrated Babbet's waiting fingers; and with a
warning pressure of finger-on-lip, she came forth and fled to her own
grand apartments, and Janet watched until the latch clicked upon this
great mistress of beauty, title, wealth and virtue.
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