s."

A mocking, rippling laugh crossed the Lady Barbara's lips. At once she
gave her hand to her strange cavalier.

"I thought my eyes and ears were not mistaken," she said. "Now I know
in very truth that you are my cousin Percy, for that is the only
lover-like speech that ever came from his lips to me. You believe in
repetition, it seems."

In spite of old Mistress Benton's commands and prayers, the Lady
Barbara had stepped from the coach and the stranger had slammed the
door upon the gibbering dame.

"Ripening corn in a wanton breeze, I should call the hair to-night,"
he said. "Bits of heaven's own blue, the eyes; roses red and white,
the cheeks, and ripe pomegranate the lips. Does that suit you better,
Lady Babs?"

The Lady Barbara's laughter rang back to Mistress Benton's frenzied
ears.

"The moonlight seems to infuse your love with warmth, my cousin." The
lady leaned with coquettish heaviness upon the arm that supported her
hand.

"The icicle that holds your heart has chilled my love till now, my
sweet," the mask answered.

"But why did you stop me in this fashion?" The Lady Barbara had drawn
back from the ardor in her escort's voice. "What means this silly
masquerade? What words would you speak to me here? In this fashion?"

"'Tis but a lover's prank, as you said," he answered, lightly. Then,
singing softly Lord Farquhart's song to Sylvia, he swung her lightly
from him, and bowed low before her as though she were his partner in a
dance.

Hearts that beat with love so true!
Barb'ra, sweet, I come to you!

She, falling in with his humor, dropped him an answering courtesy,
and, drawing off her gauntlet, gave him her bare hand. He fell on his
knee before her, and lightly touched the hand with his lips.

"Give me the glove, sweetheart," he cried, "and the rose you wear on
your heart and--and all these rings that mar your sweet, white hand
with their gaudy reds and blues. Leave only mine to prove that you are
only mine."

He drew the jewels from her hand, and, suddenly, she started from him.

"Take off your mask, Percy, and lift your hat," she cried,
impulsively.

"You ask too much, sweet cousin." Still he answered lightly. He was
still on his knees before her. "My mask and my hat proclaim my trade,
if not to you, at least to your servants."

The roses in her cheeks faded, then blossomed once again. Again she
laughed, but this time the rippling music held a tremor. Her hand
caught her heart.