fter
as one who could discourse sweetest music, the most graceful figure in the
dance, the most accomplished poet who could quickly improvise a verse in
praise of his Queen, or a rhyme to commemorate some feat of arms at joust
or tourney, like that of the preceding day.

Humphrey Ratcliffe thought that he held the solution of his Master's
alternations of sadness and cheerfulness, and, as he rode up to the Manor,
he sighed as he remembered Philip Sidney's words.

'Let us hope you may attain your heart's desire, nor have it ever denied
you, as is God's will for me.'

'Denied to me also, but yet I have a hope, Mr Sidney cannot have; no
impassable barrier rises between me and Mary. If I find her boy I may reap
my reward.'

At the sound of the horse's feet the casement above the porch was opened,
and a woman's head was thrust out.

'Who goes there?'

'It is I, Humphrey Ratcliffe. I have an errand to Mistress Gifford.'

'She is sick, and can't hear aught to-night. It is near midnight. Go your
way, and return in the morning, Master Ratcliffe.'

Then there was a pause, the woman's head was withdrawn, and Humphrey's
ear, quickened by love, heard Mary's voice in pathetic pleading. Presently
the head re-appeared.

'Mistress Gifford says, "Do you bring news?"'

'I would fain see her, if possible. I cannot speak of such matters here.'

'Then you must wait till the morrow, nor parley any longer.'

The casement was shut with a sharp click, and there was nothing left for
Humphrey but to pursue his way to his own home, whither George--who had
parted from him at Tunbridge--and his servants had preceded him earlier in
the day.

Mary Gifford lay sleepless and restless all through the long hours of the
night, watching for the dawn. She longed, and yet half dreaded her meeting
with Humphrey. She felt so utterly weak and broken-hearted, so forlorn and
deserted--what if he again urged his suit!--what if she had now to tell him
what had been at their last interview only a probability, and was now a
certainty! Her husband was no vague, shadowy personality; he was alive and
strong, to work for her the greatest evil that could befall her in stealing
her boy from her.

When Mistress Forrester came in, on her way to the dairy, to see how it
fared with Mary, she found her, to her surprise, dressed, while Goody
Pearse was snoring peacefully on the pallet bed, where Ambrose had slept
near his mother.

'Dear heart! Mary Gifford, what