It was near the hour of five when Lady Constance rode forth alone.  She left the courtyard unnoticed and hurried to the village and through it and on beyond toward the tree and passed it and galloped some distance beyond, then seeing she was not followed made a quick turn and retraced, But there came from a bend in the road a horseman that rode warily.  She again turned to see if any came, and seeing no one stopped at the tree and brought from its cavity a letter.  As she replaced the knot, there was such a sudden sound of horses’ feet behind her she dropped the billet and her unknown squire leapt from his horse to recover it, and stood uncovered before her with such a long, low bow of homage he had most time to read the missive.  Lady Constance was flattered and felt surely that one with such courtly dress and bearing could be nothing less than a Duke and his wearing of a full masque made her doubly sure of it.  She flushed and reached out her hand for the letter and spoke in her most seductive tones,—­

“My lord,”—­he looked up and saw on her pretty, though characterless face a smile that warranted a further acquaintance.  He placed the letter in her hand slowly, then caught her hand and held it firmly; indeed their hands touched and lingered together with such intention it conveyed much more meaning than words.  Constance had all the outward show of a great lady, but at soul she was putrescent.  There came such a heartrending sigh from her cavalier she spoke in a most tender tone,—­

“And why such sighing?”

“Is it not enough, sweet lady?”

“I am at a loss?”

“Nay, rather ’tis I that am at loss; for I had sought to gain thy favour undivided, and I meet with thee only to give into thy hands a trysting billet that lifts thy glorious orbs above me.”  He bowed low in mock humility.  Constance’ heart fluttered at his ardent words.

“I would fain know who thus sues for a woman’s love; ’tis possible—­” He lowered his masque.  “Ah, his Grace of Monmouth!” She well-nigh prostrated herself upon the saddle, in lieu of the fine courtesy she would have swept had her position been more favourable.  His words—­such gloriously sweet words when uttered by the lips of a Duke—­fed her vanity.  Her face flushed as she thought of what his love must be.  He saw his vantage and drew nearer—­it may be a hair’s breadth over the line of respect—­indeed ’twould have been an innovation had he not done so, as the time warranted nothing else but a show at virtue.

“Your Grace finds a maid that is heart whole; but I would aid others to their desire.  I but act as post-boy ’twixt tree and castle.”