her. Let any one attempt to
meet her eyes, and they dropped in a moment. Some do this from mere
bashfulness, but Felicia showed no bashfulness in any other way.
Clarice's feeling towards her was fear.

"I'm not afraid!" said Diana. "I am sure I could be her match in fair
fight!"

"It is the fair fight I doubt," said Clarice. "I am afraid there is
treachery in her eyes."

"She makes me creep all over," added Olympias.

"Well, she had better not try to measure swords with me," said Diana.
"I tell you, I have a presentiment that girl and I shall fight; but I
will come off victor; you see if I don't!"

Clarice made no answer, but in her heart she thought that Diana was too
honest to be any match for Felicia.

It was the Countess's custom to spend her afternoon, when the day was
fine, in visiting some shrine or abbey. When the day was not fine, she
passed the time in embroidering among her maidens, and woe betide the
unlucky damsel who selected a wrong shade, or set in a false stitch.
The natural result of this was that the pine-cone, kept by Olympias as a
private barometer, was anxiously consulted on the least appearance of
clouds. Diana asserted that she offered a wax candle to Saint Wulstan
every month for fair weather. One of the young ladies always had to
accompany her mistress, and the fervent hope of each was to escape this
promotion. Felicia alone never expressed this hope, never joined in any
tirades against the Countess, never got into disgrace with her, and
seemed to stand alone, like a drop of vinegar which would not mingle
with the oil around it. She appeared to see everything, and say
nothing. It was impossible to get at her likes and dislikes. She took
everything exactly alike. Either she had no prejudices, or she was all
prejudice, and nobody could tell which it was.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. Some readers will think such ideas too modern to have occurred
to any one in 1290. There is evidence to the contrary.

CHAPTER FIVE.

BUILDING A FRESH CASTLE.

"Oh, had I wist, afore I kissed,
That loue had been sae ill to win,
I'd locked my heart wi' a key o' gowd,
And pinned it wi' a siller pin."--_Old Ballad_.

On an afternoon early in December, the Countess sat among her
bower-women at work. Roisia was almost in tears, for she had just been
sharply chidden for choosing too pale a shade of blue. A little stir at
the d