CHAPTER XI
THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL
The Duchess was frowning for all she was worth. Alicia and Barbara tried to look serious, but were obviously only too ready to join in any frolic which happened to be passing in Ursula Glynde's lively little head.
"Oh!" said the latter, as soon as she had partially recovered her breath. "Oh! I vow 'tis the best of the bunch."
With the freedom of a spoilt child, who knows how welcome are its caresses, Ursula sidled up to the Duchess of Lincoln and sat down upon the arm of her chair.
"Your Grace, a share of your seat I entreat," she said gaily, heedless of stern looks. "Nay! I'll die of laughing unless you let me read you this."
"Child! child!" admonished the Duchess, still trying to look severe, "this loud laughter is most unseemly—and your cheeks all ablaze! What is it now?"
"What is it, sweet Grace?" responded the young girl. "A poem! Listen!"
She smoothed out the piece of paper, spread it out upon her knee and began reading solemnly:—
"If all the world were sought so farre
Who could find such a wight?
Her beauty twinkleth like a starre
Within the frosty night.
Her roseall colour comes and goes
With such a comely grace,
More ruddier too than doth the rose,
Within her lively face."
"And beneath this sonnet," she continued, "a drawing—see!—a heart pierced by a dagger. His heart—my beauty which twinkleth like a starre!"