chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.

It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
the Lady Catharine Knollys.




CHAPTER IV

THE POINT OF HONOR


"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still
adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose."

"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four
days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
dreams last night."

"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said