in the hunting-field--when you were but ten years old."

Her eyes were still upon his--he felt that his own gazed into strange
depths of her. The crimson had fallen away from her beauteous cheeks
and she faintly, faintly smiled--almost, he thought, as if she mocked
at somewhat, woefully.

"Then--then you might have been one of those," she said, slow and soft,
"who came to the birthnight feast and--and saw my life begin."

And she bent down as if she scarce knew what she did, and slowly
gathered up one by one the torn petals she had broken from her flower.

"Then you will ask us to come to visit you at Camylott, Gerald?" said
my lord later after they had talked further, he speaking of the
beauties of the place and the loveliness of the country about it.

"It will be my joy and honour to be your host," Osmonde answered.
"Since my parents' death I have not entertained guests, but had
already thought of doing so this year, and could have no better reason
for hospitality than my wish to place my house at your ladyship's
service," with a bow, "and make you free of it--as of every other roof
of mine."

_CHAPTER XX_

_At Camylott_

A month later the flag floated from Camylott Tower and the village was
all alive with rustic excitement, much ale being drunk at the Plough
Horse and much eager gossip going on between the women, who had been
running in and out of each other's cottages for three days to talk over
each item of news as it reached them. Since the new Duke had taken
possession of his inheritance there had been no rejoicing or company at
the Tower, all the entertaining rooms having been kept closed, and the
great house seeming grievously quiet even when his Grace came down to
spend a few weeks in it. To himself the silence had been a sorrowful
thing, but he had no desire to break it by filling the room with
guests, and had indeed resolved in private thought not to throw open
its doors until he brought to it a mistress. The lovely presence of the
last mistress it had known had been so brightly illuminating a thing,
filling its rooms and galleries and the very park and terraces and
gardens themselves with sunshine and joyousness. In those happy days no
apartment had seemed huge and empty, no space too great to warm and
light with homely pleasure. But this fair torch extinguished,
apartments large enough for royal banquets, labyrinths of corridors and
galleries leading to chambers enough to serve a garriso