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Excerpt: ...it is the truth. But to the matter in hand. Believe me, 'tis for thy good to have naught to do with the Lady Priscilla Rutland. I have been longer at the court than thou and therefore know of that of which I speak." "I am tired of thy watching and prating," declared Francis with spirit. "I am no child to be chidden. Leave me, and know that Francis Stafford will do as seemeth best to her." "As you will, mistress. But if you come to grief blame me not," and the lad walked away. "I hate him," ejaculated the girl, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I hate him with his trite speeches and his sage advice Why doth he not leave me in peace? I will go to the Lady Priscilla were it only to show him that I regard not his words." Nevertheless she could not but wonder why any lady should take such a sudden interest in her, and a slight misgiving lurked in her heart as she approached the Round 175 Tower, entered its portals, and made her way to the Lady Priscilla's bower. The lady was lying on a couch surrounded by her tire women. "So, my pretty lad," she said with a careless glance, "thou hast come. Didst thou not have enough of flattery? Gramercy hath it not always been true that sugar would catch more flies than vinegar?" "What mean you?" stammered Francis, her sensitive nature becoming aware of the change in the lady's manner from the caressing sweetness of the morning to the mocking air of the moment. "Didst think thy beauty had ensnared me?" queried the lady quizzically. "It hath. As the yellow metal of the earth hath always thrown a spell over men so the red gold of thy hair hath fascinated me. I dote on thy locks, my fair page. Ay so much so that they and I shall ne'er be parted more. Celeste Annabelle have at him " "Why, why," cried the girl, struggling to rise as the maids set upon her....