estray, such a piece of flotsam, was Audrey, that she could not help him
out. "They call me Darden's Audrey," she explained to the Governor. "If I
ever heard my father's name, I have forgotten it."

Her voice, though low, reached all those who had ceased from their own
concerns to stare at this strange guest, this dark-eyed, shrinking beauty,
so radiantly attired. The whisper had preceded her from the hall: there
had been fluttering and comment enough as, under the fire of all those
eyes, she had passed with Haward to where stood the Governor receiving his
guests. But the whisper had not reached his Excellency's ears. In London
he had been slightly acquainted with Mr. Marmaduke Haward, and now knew
him for a member of his Council, and a gentleman of much consequence in
that Virginia which he had come to rule. Moreover, he had that very
morning granted a favor to Mr. Haward, and by reason thereof was inclined
to think amiably of the gentleman. Of the piece of dark loveliness whom
the Virginian had brought forward to present, who could think otherwise?
But his Excellency was a formal man, punctilious, and cautious of his
state. The bow with which he received the strange lady's curtsy had been
profound; in speaking to her he had made his tones honey-sweet, while his
compliment quite capped the one just paid to Mistress Evelyn Byrd. And now
it would appear that the lady had no name! Nay, from the looks that were
being exchanged, and from the tittering that had risen amongst the younger
of his guests, there must be more amiss than that! His Excellency frowned,
drew himself up, and turned what was meant to be a searching and terrible
eye upon the recreant in white satin. Audrey caught the look, for which
Haward cared no whit. Oh, she knew that she had no business there,--she
that only the other day had gone barefoot on Darden's errands, had been
kept waiting in hall or kitchen of these people's houses! She knew that,
for all her silken gown, she had no place among them; but she thought that
they were not kind to stare and whisper and laugh, shaming her before one