angrily: "Leave you? Do I hear aright? I never thought that I, the
daughter and sister of a king, would live to be dismissed by a--by
a--any one."

"Your highness--" began Brandon; but she was gone before he could
speak.

He did not follow her to explain, knowing how dangerous such an
explanation would be, but felt that it was best for them both that she
should remain offended, painful as the thought was to him.

Of course, Mary's womanly self-esteem, to say nothing of her royal
pride, was wounded to the quick, and no wonder.

Poor Brandon sat down upon a stone, and, as he longingly watched her
retiring form, wished in his heart he were dead. This was the first
time he really knew how much he loved the girl, and he saw that, with
him at least, it was a matter of bad to worse; and at that rate would
soon be--worst.

Now that he had unintentionally offended her, and had permitted her to
go without an explanation, she was dearer to him than ever, and, as he
sat there with his face in his hands, he knew that if matters went on
as they were going, the time would soon come when he would throw
caution to the dogs and would try the impossible--to win her for his
own. Caution and judgment still sat enthroned, and they told him now
what he knew full well they would not tell him after a short
time--that failure was certain to follow the attempt, and disaster
sure to follow failure. First, the king would, in all probability, cut
off his head upon an intimation of Mary's possible fondness for him;