Ever and anon her eyes sought the young lord of the castle,
forgetting she was his ward--and there would come to her such a
feeling of overwhelming conviction she was for the moment submerged
in ecstasy, and with the hot blush still upon her face she would flee
from him as if he were an evil tempter. He brought her near to that
great unknown, upon whose threshold she stood trembling and expectant,
eager to know what was before her. And so, not understanding her own
mind, and being of such tender years, drifted along with the tide that
was carrying her to destruction. Her mind was set upon her own way,
and sheer perversity deigned not to let her see the hands stretched
toward her.
The afternoon sun fell aslant the black oak parquetry where sat her
Grace of Ellswold, Lady Constance and Mistress Penwick, engaged with
limning and embroidery. Lord Cedric and Sir Julian entered, attired
in the most modish foppery of the time. The latter was saying, as he
soundly rapped his pouncet-box,--
"His demeanour is too provincial, too provincial--ah!"--and he bent
low with grave formality to Mistress Penwick as Cedric presented him;
then turning to the duchess continued,--"I was saying, your Grace,
that Dryden is provincial in his demeanour, when compared to his Grace
of Buckingham.
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