The tone was very cold, but Audrey scarce noticed that it was so. "If I
may, I should like to serve you, ma'am," she said pleadingly. "I will be
very careful."

Leaving the window, she came and knelt beside Evelyn; but when she would
have put the golden hood upon her head, the other drew back with a gesture
of aversion, a quick recoil of her entire frame. The hood slipped to the
floor. After a moment Audrey rose and stepped back a pace or two. Neither
spoke, but it was the one who thought no evil whose eyes first sought the
floor. Her dark cheek paled, and her lips trembled; she turned, and going
back to her seat by the window took up her fallen work. Evelyn, with a
sharp catch of her breath, withdrew her attention from the other occupant
of the room, and fixed it upon a moted sunbeam lying like a bar between
the two.

Mistress Stagg returned. The hood was fitted, and its purchaser prepared
to leave. Audrey rose and made her curtsy, timidly, but with a quick,
appealing motion of her hand. Was not this the lady whom he loved, that
people said he was to wed? And had he not told her, long ago, that he
would speak of her to Mistress Evelyn Byrd, and that she too would be her
friend? Last May Day, when the guinea was put into her hand, the lady's
smile was bright, her voice sweet and friendly. Now, how changed! In her
craving for a word, a look, from one so near him, one that perhaps had
seen him not an hour before; in her sad homage for the object of his love,
she forgot her late repulse, and grew bold. When Evelyn would have passed
her, she put forth a trembling hand and began to speak, to say she scarce
knew what; but the words died in her throat. For a moment Evelyn stood,
her head averted, an angry red staining neck and bosom and beautiful,
down-bent face. Her eyes half closed, the long lashes quivering against