fine cloth, cut square in the
bodice, and crossed by a thick white kerchief, edged with lace. Lucy's
slender neck was set in a ruff, fastened at the throat by a gold brooch,
which sparkled in the light.

Her chestnut hair was gathered up from her forehead, and a little pointed
cap of black velvet, edged with gold, was set upon it, and contrasted well
with the bright locks, from which a curl, either by accident or design, had
been loosened, and rippled over her shoulder, below her waist.

Lucy was well known in the village, and, as she stood debating whether she
should go home or wait for a few minutes longer, a man, with the badge of
the Sidneys on his arm, came up on horseback, and turned into the park
gate, which was near this end of the village.

'They must be coming now,' she said; 'they must be coming. Perhaps I shall
see Humphrey, and he will tell me if Mr Sydney is returning this evening. I
can hide behind the trees just outside the gate. No one will see me.'

Presently another horseman came riding slowly along. He was hailed by one
of the loiterers in the street, and Lucy heard the question asked and
answered.

'Yes, Mr Sidney is on the road. He is gone round by the main entrance, with
two of his gentlemen.'

'He won't pass this way, then, to-night,' Lucy thought. 'Oh, I wish I could
see him. Humphrey is so dull, and he won't ask him to do what I want. I
know my Lady Mary would take me to see the show if Mr Philip wished, and--'

'Lucy, why are you here alone?' and the speaker dismounted, and, throwing
the reins of his horse to a groom, he was at her side in a moment.

'I came down to bring food to the hungry. Where's the harm of that?'

'It is getting late. I'll walk up the hill with you. Lucy, does Mistress
Gifford know of your coming?'

'What if she doesn't? I please myself; tell me, Humphrey, is Mr Sidney come
home?'

'For a few days. He returns shortly for the great tournament at Whitehall
in honour of the French Embassy.'

'On Sunday next. Oh, Humphrey, I do want to see it--to see Mr Sidney tilt.
I would walk to London to see it, if I can't ride. There is so little time
left. Why won't you ask--beg--pray someone to take me?'

'The tournament is put off. There is time enough and to spare. Her Majesty
the Queen has desired delay, and a day in May is now fixed. Three weeks
hence--'

'Three weeks hence! Then there is hope. I shall go to Lady Mary myself, if
I don't see Mr Sidney.'

'Well, we