Mistress Anne gave a little start and bent lower over her embroidery frame, but her Grace, who was in the apartment, answered for her.
"'Twas Sir John Oxon," she answered, "who has wronged so many."
"What!" Osmonde cried, "wrought he the poor thing's ruin?"
"No," the Duchess replied; "but would have done it, and she, poor child, all innocent, believing herself an honest wife. He had so planned it, but Fate saved her!"
"A mock marriage," says the Duke, "and she saved from it! How?"
"Because the day she went to him to be married, as he had told her, he was not at his lodgings, and did not return."
"'Twas the very day he disappeared—the day you saw him?" Osmonde exclaimed.
"Yes," was the answer given, as her Grace crossed the room. "And 'twas because I had seen him that the poor thing came to me with her story—and I cared for her."
She, too, had been sitting at her embroidery frame, and had crossed the room for silks, which lay upon the table near to Mistress Anne. As she laid her hand upon them she looked down and uttered a low exclamation, springing to her sister's side.
"Anne, love!" she cried. "Nay, Anne!"