Brandon and the Lady Mary saw a great deal of each other during this little stay at Windsor, as she always had some plan to bring about a meeting, and although very delightful to him, it cost him much in royal favor.  He could not trace this effect to its proper cause and it troubled him.  I could have told him the reason in two words, but I feared to put into his mind the thought that the princess might learn to love him.  As to the king, he would not have cared if Brandon or every other man, for that matter, should go stark mad for love of his sister, but when she began to show a preference he grew interested, and it was apt sooner or later to go hard with the fortunate one.  When we went back to Greenwich Brandon was sent on a day ahead.

CHAPTER VII

Love’s Fierce Sweetness

After we had all returned to Greenwich the princess and Brandon were together frequently.  Upon several occasions he was invited, with others, to her parlor for card playing.  But we spent two evenings, with only four of us present, prior to the disastrous events which changed everything, and of which I am soon to tell you.  During these two evenings the “Sailor Lass” was in constant demand.

This pair, who should have remained apart, met constantly in and about the palace, and every glance added fuel to the flame.  Part of the time it was the princess with her troublesome dignity, and part of the time it was Mary—­simply girl.  Notwithstanding these haughty moods, anyone with half an eye could see that the princess was gradually succumbing to the budding woman; that Brandon’s stronger nature had dominated her with that half fear which every woman feels who loves a strong man—­stronger than herself.

One day the rumor spread through the court that the old French king, Louis XII, whose wife, Anne of Brittany, had just died, had asked Mary’s hand in marriage.  It was this, probably, which opened Brandon’s eyes to the fact that he had been playing with the very worst sort of fire; and first made him see that in spite of himself, and almost without his knowledge, the girl had grown wonderfully sweet and dear to him.  He now saw his danger, and struggled to keep himself beyond the spell of her perilous glances and siren song.  This modern Ulysses made a masterful effort, but alas! had no ships to carry him away, and no wax with which to fill his ears.  Wax is a good thing, and no one should enter the Siren country without it.  Ships, too, are good, with masts to tie one’s self to, and sails and rudder, and a gust of wind to waft one quickly past the island.  In fact, one cannot take too many precautions when in those enchanted waters.