her Grace's father, Sir Jeoffry Wildairs,
and he had known her from the time she was five years old, and had been
first made the comrade and plaything of a band of the worst rioters in
three counties.

"Ay!" he cried, exultantly, for he seemed always exultant when he spoke
of her Grace, who was plainly his idol. "At seven she would toss off
her ale, and sing and swear as wickedly as any man among us, and had
great black eyes that flashed fire when we crossed her, and her hair
hung below her waist, and she was the most beauteous child-devil and
the most lawless, that man or woman ever clapt eyes on. And to behold
her now! to behold her now!" And then he motioned towards the little
Anne, who was flashing-eyed, and long-limbed, and a brown beauty. "'Tis
my Lady Anne who is most like her," he said; "but Lord! she hath been
treated fair by Fortune, and loved and cherished, and is a young queen
already."

Later, when the night had fallen and was thick with stars, and the
festal lights were twinkling like other stars among the trees of the
park, and from the happy crowds at play there floated the sounds of
laughter and joyful voices, their Graces and their guests sate or
walked upon the terrace amid the night-scents of flowers and watched
the merriment going on below them and talked together.

"Ay," broke forth old Sir Christopher, "you two happy folk light joyful
fires, and make joyful hearts wheresoever you go."

'Twas at this moment two of the other country guests--they being old
Gloucestershire comrades also--stayed their sauntering before her Grace
to speak to her.

"Eldershawe and me have just been saying," broke forth one of them,
chuckling, "how this bringeth back old times, though 'tis little like
them. We three were of the birthnight party--Eldershawe, Chris, and me.
Thou dost not forget old friends, Clo, and would not, wert thou ten
times a Duchess."

"Nay, not I," answered her Grace. "Not I."

"There be not many of us left," said Sir Christopher, ruefully. "Thy
poor old Dad is under sod, and others with him. Two necks were broke in
hunting, the others died of years or drink."

"But one we know naught of, egad!" said my Lord Eldershawe, "and he was
my kinsman."

"Lord, yes," cried out the other; "Jack Oxon! Jack, who came among us
all curls and essences and brocades and lace. Thou'st not forgot Jack
Oxon, Clo, for the fellow was wild in love with thee."

"No, I have not forgotten Sir John," she answered