sudden energy, as she drew herself up and fixed a keen glance upon the sad-looking girl. “The Lady Marchioness of Dorset, madam, an’ it please you." “Bah!” exclaimed Katharine impatiently, “what mean you, child?” In few words, but with many tears, which she tried vainly to suppress, the waiting-maid related the circumstances of her father's death, and her own removal to Seymour Place, to the attentive and evidently interested Queen Katharine, adding that she felt it to be "full dreary" to be without her "father" and "Mistress Norton and Rowland." "And thy father, thou sayest, was the village leech, my child?" "Yes, madam." "And thy mother is dead?" "Yes, madam." “And thou hast a good friend in Mistress Norton-that is well. But prithee, who is Rowland?" "He was my playmate, may it please you, madam." "So, so, he was thy playmate; but what is he now, an' I make not too bold?" "He is my neighbour, if it please your grace; he is, he doth call himself my brother." "Thy brother-well, well, mayhap the youth hath more than a brother's kindness towards you?" The waiting-maid stood still, with her eyes bent upon the floor, as though she were counting the rushes with which it was strewed. Katharine smiled, and so far ignored her dignity as to smooth the beautiful hair of Kitty with her hand, saying, as she did so, “Alack, alack! how early we women-folk do find our hearts! Aye, and lose them too!" But in this instance the queen was mistaken, for the blushing girl before her loved Rowland with a merely childish love; indeed, she was a child in heart at the time, but the queen's manner gave her confidence to speak more boldly, and she looked up and said, "May it please you, madam?" "I have not so much as seen the sweet Lady Jane sin' I came to be her servant." "How doth it happen that you have not once seen your noble mistress sin' you have been under our roof? "Madam, my Lady of Dorset did command that I should but render humble services at a distance from my mistress, as I was not of noble birth." 66 So, and this command hath been carried into effect?" "Yes, madam." "By the Lady Jane's gentlewomen, I trow?" "So I believe, your grace." "Then know, my good girl, once for all, that the Queen Katharine is mistress in her own household, and is fully capable to guide her husband's ward, her gentlewomen, and her waiting-maids; an' she will give them instructions to suit her own mind, rather than allow them to act so as to suit the minds of others." Kitty curtseyed in some confusion at the queen's resolute and haughty manner, and stood with her eyes fixed upon the ground. The queen altered her tone, and looking kindly into the face of the waiting maid, she said, "So you do find it 'full dreary' to be shut out from your friends, and methinks you are somewhat like a 'fish out of water' among the menials of our mansion. Well, you shall have a holiday, child, and visit Rowland and his good mother. Methinks there is a quiet little steed in our stables which will carry you part-way to Leicestershire, and for the rest of the journey I will make provision. In the meantime you shall have speech with the Lady Jane Grey." Thus the interview ended, and before half-anhour had elapsed, the gentle voice of her high-born young mistress greeted Kitty, and she stood face to face with the Lady Jane. Though a couple of years had elapsed since the downfall of the peasant's hut, Kitty retained, with much freshness, the impression then made upon her mind by the sweet little maiden, whose heart was so full of sympathy with the unfortunate cottagers that she would fain have hastened home to fetch her prized coins for their relief. Since that day the Lady Jane had been Kitty's ideal of loveliness and kindness, and now as she stood before her, the doctor's child felt something akin to reverence rising in her heart for the delicate and courteous Tudor princess, and she curtseyed low, as one curtseys in the depths of one's nature when one meets with the truly gracious and right noble among one's fellow-creatures. " The queen hath bidden me seek you, and have speech with you," said the musical voice of the fair young mistress, as her beautiful eyes looked full into the eyes of her maid, "and her grace doth tell me that the time passeth irksomely with you, and that you yearn over dear friends at our sunny Swithland." "My lady, I do thank you from my heart for your sweet sympathy." "My sympathy will be of little worth if I render not your position pleasanter by kindly speech and intercourse, from which I am no longer debarred; so prithee, be content, you shall be lonesome no longer; moreover, the queen hath bidden me say that a good steed, as well as a mounted attendant, shall await you to-morrow at sunrise, and her grace away friends for the space to your bids you to hie of a month, and mind you, Mistress Kitty, I shall look for bright roses on your cheeks when you come back to us." The little lady extended her hand as she spoke, and Kitty, encouraged by the affability of her mistress, bent down and kissed it. Her heart was too full for words. This Lady Jane perceived, and with a kindly "Farewell, Kitty," took her departure, while the waiting-maid, like one already dreaming a glad dream, made her way to her chamber to prepare for her journey. "At sunrise," thought Kitty, as she laid her head on the pillow that night, "at sunrise I must be quite ready, so I must be up long before the dawn." Then she fell into a light slumber, and dreamed a real sleeping dream, not merely a surprised, joyous waking one, which was that the sky above her head was black and lowering, and that she was tossing about in a small boat upon a foaming turbid sea, with no sign of land on any side, nor chance of escape from a terrible death; the fierce billows roared and rolled, and broke over her tiny barque, and when she attempted to lift the oar her arms became powerless; then her boat capsized, and she went down, down, down, she knew not whither, though she could feel the cold dark waters closing above her head. Suddenly she was in her boat again; the sea was as calm and blue as a southern |