ting him, set him on his feet again. Then,
with a bow and smile to Lucy, he bent his knee with his accustomed grace
before his sister, who stooped down and kissed him lovingly, with the
words,--

'Welcome! welcome! dear Philip. Thrice welcome, to confirm the good news of
which my lord had notice yester even.'

'Yes; I have come to say much, and to discuss many schemes with you. I stay
but till the morrow, when I would fain you got ready to see me later at
Penshurst.'

'At Penshurst!'

'Yes. I have set my heart on meeting all my kindred--more especially our
father and mother--there ere I depart. Now, now, Will! wherefore all this
struggling to resist Mistress Forrester? Fie, fie! for shame!'

'It is the attraction of your presence, Philip, which is too much for
Will,' Lady Pembroke said.

'Then, if I am the culprit, I will do penance, and take the boy in hand
myself. See, Will, you are to come with me to your tasks, nor give Mistress
Forrester so much trouble.' And Lucy found herself free from the child's
detaining hand, as Sir Philip went, with swift steps, towards the
house--his little nephew running fast to keep up with him.

Lucy followed, and met Sir Philip in the hall, where the tutor had captured
the truant.

'Any news from Arnhem, Mistress Forrester?' Sir Philip asked. 'Any good
news from Mistress Gifford?'

'Nay, sir, no news of the boy; and even our good friend Master Humphrey
Ratcliffe is ready to give up the quest.'

'Nay, it shall not be given up. I am starting in a few days to the Low
Countries, as Governor of Flushing.'

'So my lady told me, sir, this morning,' Lucy said demurely.

'Yes, and I shall be on the alert; depend on it, if the boy is alive, he
shall be found. But I begin to fear that he is dead. Why should I say fear,
forsooth? Death would be better than his training by Jesuits, and so
leagued with Spain and all her evil machinations.'

Lucy curtseyed, and, with a gentle 'Good-morning to you, sir,' she went to
her duties under Mistress Crawley.

Lucy had changed from the impetuous child in the first flush of her youth
and consciousness of beauty, into a woman almost graver than her years, and
so little disposed to accept any overtures of marriage, that the ladies of
the Countess of Pembroke's household called her the little nun.

One after another they drifted off as the wives of the gentlemen and
esquires, who were retainers of the Earl; but Lucy Forrester remained, high
in fa