spear and wear in her honour, and he could scarce believe that she had
meant to neglect him. He half halted, but she only deigned an
inclination of the head, and he spurred his horse angrily on with a
muttered imprecation, yet, to all seeming, gallantly paying homage.

"There shall be doings ere this day is done. 'Beware the Gipsy'!" said
the Duke's Daughter in a low tone to Angele, and she laughed. lightly.

"Who is the Gipsy?" asked Angele, with good suspicion, however.

"Who but Leicester," answered the other. "Is he not black enough?"

"Why was he so called? Who put the name upon Who but the Earl of Sussex
as he died--as noble a chief, as true a counsellor as ever spoke truth to
a Queen. But truth is not all at Court, and Sussex was no flatterer.
Leicester bowed under the storm for a moment when Sussex showed him in
his true colours; but Sussex had no gift of intrigue, the tide turned,
and so he broke his heart, and died. But he left a message which I
sometimes remember with my collects. 'I am now passing to another
world,' said he, 'and must leave you to your fortunes and to the Queen's
grace and goodness; but beware the Gipsy, for he will be too hard for all
of you; you know not the beast so well as I do.' But my Lord Sussex was
wrong. One there is who knows him through and through, and hath little
joy in the knowing."

The look in the eyes of the Duke's Daughter became like steel and her
voice hardened, and Angele realised that Leicester had in this beautiful
and delicate maid-of-honour as bitter an enemy as ever brought down the
mighty from their seats; that a pride had been sometime wounded, suffered
an unwarrantable affront, which only innocence could feel so acutely.