She was sure that the princess and the lady who had given her the guinea were one.
In the great house she would have worked her fingers to the bone.

Her strong young arms lifted heavy weights; her quick feet ran up and down stairs for this or that; she would have taken the waxed cloths from the negroes, and upon her knees and with willing hands have made to shine like mirrors the floors that were to be trodden by knight and princess.

But almost every morning, before she had worked an hour, Haward would call to her from the box walk or the seat beneath the cherry-tree; and "Go, child," would say Mistress Deborah, looking up from her task of the moment.
The garden continued to be the enchanted garden.

To gather its flowers, red and white, to pace with him cool paved walks between walls of scented box, to sit beside him beneath the cherry-tree or upon the grassy terrace, looking out upon the wide, idle river,--it was dreamy bliss, a happiness too rare to last.

There was no harm; not that she ever dreamed there could be.