ck. "This is Margaret, is it?
Clear as crystal: not deep, but clear. But this face"--as Lucrece came
before her--"is deep enough. Not deep like a river, but like a snake.
I could do well enough with your plain, honest sister; but I love you
not, Mistress Lucrece. Enville. Your graceful ways do not captivate
me. Ah! it takes a woman to know a woman. And the men, poor silly
things! fancy they know us better than we do each other."

If Philippa had spoken that last sentiment audibly, she would have won
the fee-simple of Rachel Enville's heart.

"Sir Thomas," said Philippa, when they rose from supper, "when it may
stand with your conveniency, I would fain have an half-hour's talk with
you."

Sir Thomas was ready enough to confer with the old lady, whom he liked,
and he led her courteously to his wife's boudoir. Lady Enville sat down
in her cushioned chair, and made a screen of her fan.

"Sir Thomas," began Philippa bluntly, "I would fain wit what you and
Orige mean to do with Clare? Forgive my asking; I love the child for
her grandame's sake."

"Good Mistress, you be full welcome to ask the same. But for me, I know
not how to answer, for I never took any thought thereupon. Hadst thou
thought thereon, Orige?"

"I counted her most like to wed with Arthur Tremayne," said Lady Enville
carelessly.

"I ne'er thought of him," remarked Sir Thomas.

"If it be so, good," said Philippa. "I have looked the lad o'er, and I
am satisfied with him. And now, I pray you, take one more word from an
old woman, of your gentleness. What do you with Blanche?"

In answer to this question--for Philippa was well known to Sir Thomas by
repute, and he was prepared to trust her thoroughly--the whole story of
Don Juan came out. Philippa sat for a minute, looking thoughtfully into
the fire.

"Have a care of yonder maid," she said.

"But what fashion of care, Mistress Basset? An' you grant it me, I
would value your thought thereupon."

Philippa turned to Sir Thomas.

"Have you not," she said, "made somewhat too much of this matter? Not
that it was other than grave, in good sooth; yet methinks it had been
better had you not let Blanche see that you counted it of so much
import. I fear she shall now go about to count herself of mighty
importance. Childre do, when you make much of their deeds; and Blanche
is but a child yet, and will so be for another year or twain. Now this
young man is safe hence, I would say, Fetch her