strongly that he knew it would come to pass. He was a gentleman who had
acquired the habit of having his own way. There had been times when the
price of his way had seemed too dear; when he had shrugged his shoulders
and ceased to desire what he would not buy. To-night he was not able to
count the cost. But he knew--he knew cruelly well--how to cut short this
fruitless protest of a young girl who thought him all that was wise and
great and good.

"So you cannot say 'yes' to my asking, little maid?" he began, quiet and
smiling. "Cannot trust me that I have reasons for the asking? Well, I will
not ask again, Audrey, since it is so great a thing'"--"Oh," cried Audrey,
"you know that I would die for you!" The tears welled over, but she
brushed them away with a trembling hand; then stood with raised face, her
eyes soft and dewy, a strange smile upon her lips. She spoke at last as
simply as a child: "Why you want me, that am only Audrey, to go with you
to the Palace yonder, I cannot tell. But I will go, though I am only
Audrey, and I have no other dress than this"--

Haward got unsteadily to his feet, and lightly touched the dark head that
she bowed upon her hands. "Why, now you are Audrey again," he said
approvingly. "Why, child, I would do you a pleasure!" He turned to the
player's wife. "She must not go in this guise. Have you no finery stowed
away?"

Now, Mistress Stagg, though much scandalized, and very certain that all
this would never do, was in her way an artist, and could see as in a
mirror what bare throat and shoulders, rich hair drawn loosely up, a touch
of rouge, a patch or two, a silken gown, might achieve for Audrey. And
after all, had not Deborah told her that the girl was Mr. Haward's ward,
not Darden's, and that though Mr. Haward came and went as he pleased, and