"Happily, it is a stained window, so people do not see you," said Patience. "It is not seemly for a maiden to be staring on to the public road."
"But people do see me," said Agnes. "Reginald saw me, and he saluted. You know he is my knight, Patience."
"I know I will not suffer you to behave thus," said Patience. "A cavalier saluting a maiden at her window, above all things a maiden in Somerset House! It must not be, Agnes; you are old enough to know better."
"I do not know what I am," answered the girl impetuously. "Sometimes I am a child, sometimes a girl, sometimes I am almost a grown woman, as suits your fancy, Patience." And the big tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her face.
"My pretty, my pretty, do not weep," said Patience, and she put her arm round the girl's waist and drew her upon her lap. "You must mind what I am going to say to you, Agnes," she continued. "You are not like other girls, and you must be circumspect. You have no one to defend you from evil tongues, no one to lift you up if you were to fall; you are alone. The queen loved your mother; your father died for her husband, and so she harbours you; but she may not always do so. The day may come when she will go back to France, and that will be no place for you when the princess is married."
"Why not--why not?" said Agnes. "I shall go with her."
"Not if I can help it," answered Patience. "I love you too well, my dove, to let you scorch your wings in the court of the Palais Royal and Versailles. We must remain in England, Agnes, and the king must pension you; it is your due."
"But have I no kith or kin, no one belonging to me?" asked the girl.
"No one," answered Patience, "at least that I know of."
"And did my father and mother leave me no wealth and no lands?" said Agnes.