"Where is Lenore Beauchamp?"
Lady Wyndward was almost guilty of a start.
"You read my thoughts," she said.
The old lady nodded.
"She is the only woman who can really touch him. Ask her here; let them be together. She will be glad to come."
"I am not sure, Lenore is proud; she might guess why we wanted her."
The old lady drew up her head as haughtily as if she was Leycester's mother.
"And then? Is there any girl among them who would not jump at the chance? I don't mean because he is the heir to Wyndward; he is enough in himself without that."
"It is well you are not his mother; you would have made him what he is not now—vain."
The old lady sighed.