So the great Leicester--the Gipsy, as the dead Sussex had called him--lay
in wait in Greenwich Park for Angele to pass, like some orchard thief in
the blossoming trees. Knowing the path by which she would come to her
father's cottage from the palace, he had placed himself accordingly.
He had thought he might have to wait long or come often for the perfect
opportunity; but it seemed as if Fate played his game for him, and that
once again the fruit he would pluck should fall into his palm. Bright-
eyed, and elated from a long talk with the Duke's Daughter, who had given
her a message from the Queen, Angele had abstractedly taken the wrong
path in the wood. Leicester saw that it would lead her into the maze
some distance off. Making a detour, he met her at the moment she
discovered her mistake. The light from the royal word her friend had
brought was still in her face; but it was crossed by perplexity now.

He stood still as though astonished at seeing her, a smile upon his face.
So perfectly did he play his part that she thought the meeting
accidental; and though in her heart she had a fear of the man and knew
how bitter an enemy he was of Michel's, his urbane power, his skilful
diplomacy of courtesy had its way. These complicated lives, instinct
with contradiction, have the interest of forbidden knowledge. The dark
experiences of life leave their mark and give such natures that touch of
mystery which allures even those who have high instincts and true
feelings, as one peeps over a hidden depth and wonders what lies beyond
the dark. So Angele, suddenly arrested, was caught by the sense of
mystery in the man, by the fascination of finesse, of dark power; and it
was womanlike that all on an instant she should dream of the soul of
goodness in things evil.

Thus in life we are often surprised out of long years of prejudice, and