Queen, who,
Narcissus-like, saw only her own beauty, and believed that Sir Mortimer
Ferne's veiled divinity was rather to be found on Olympus than upon the
plains beneath. In sheer loveliness, with lips like a pomegranate
flower, mobile face of clear pallor, and beneath level brows eyes whose
color it was hard to guess at and whose depths were past all sounding,
Mistress Damaris Sedley held her small head high and went her graceful
way, moving as one enchanted over the thorny floor of the court. She had
great charm. Once it had been said beneath a royal commissioner's breath
that here in this portionless girl was a twin sorceress to the Queen who
dwelt at Tutbury.

Sorceress enough, at least, was she to draw to herself speech and
thought of this particular group; to make those who were ignorant of her
relation to the shuttlecock think less of the treasure of Spain than of
the treasure which their eyes beheld, and those who had been his
friends, who guessed at whom had been levelled those fair arrows of
song, to start full cry (when they had noted that she was merry) upon
other matters than lost ships and men. It was not long that she would
have it so. "As I entered, sir, I heard you name the _Star_. That was
one of Sir John Nevil's ships. Is there news of his adventure?"

The man to whom she spoke, some mere Hedon of the court, fluttered in
the frank sunshine of her look. "Fair gentlewoman," he began,
pomander-ball in hand, "had you a venture in that ship? Then the less
beauteous Amphitrite hath played highwayman to your wealth. Now if I
might, drawing from the storehouse of your smiles inveterate Courage,
dub myself your Valor, and so to the rescue--"

"Oh, sir, at once I dismiss you to Amphitrite's court!" cried the lady.
"Master Darrell,"--to a dark-browed, saturnine personage,--"tell me less
of Amphitrite and more of the truth. The _Star_--"

He whom she addressed loved not the shuttlecock, thought one woman but
falser than another, and made parade of blunt speech. Now a shrug of the
shoulder accompanied his answer. "The _Star_ went down months ago, off
the Grand Canary, in a storm by night."

"Alack the day!" cried Damaris. "But God, not man, sendeth the storm!
Was none saved?"

"All were saved," went on her grim informant; "but well for them had
they died with their ship, in the salt sea--Captain Robert Baldry and
his men--"

A murmur ran through the group, which now numbered more than one who
could have