I am sorry I forgot my prayers. I will
say them twenty times to-day, to make up."
"And it's the heathen that repeateth a prayer oft; thou hadst better
say 'God, have mercy upon my untowardness!' once, from thy heart, than
to say thy rosary from now until doom with thy mind upon a bumptious
Russian."
"What is the day, Janet?"
"'Tis as bleak and stormy as one could wish."
"What is the hour?"
"Eleven."
"Eleven? and I was to meet Count Adrian at this very hour. He is to
teach me battledore and shuttlecock."
"'Tis a fussy game, played more with the heart than hand; canst give
it up; let me rub thee to sleep again?"
"Nay, for I would not disappoint him or--myself."
An hour later she stood opposite the count in the great library,
swinging the battledore with grace. There was much soft laughter and
gay repartee; and Adrian followed the movements of Katherine's lithe
form, clad in the soft, clinging grey of the convent. She became
remiss; for Adrian's glances were confusing, and intentional laches
were made by him, that he might come near her, almost touching her
hair in bending to recover the ball.
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