ght her the terrible news of Margery's death; and Dame
Lovell, in the midst of her sorrow, which was very deep, had solemnly
affirmed that no power on earth should ever induce her to pardon her
son-in-law for the part which he had taken in the matter.

Richard Pynson, long before this, had mooted the question of his return
to his father, but Dame Lovell would not hear of it. He reminded her
smilingly that _she_ needed no squire; but she came and put both her
hands on his shoulders, and made him look her in the face.

"Thou sayest sooth, Richard, that I need no squire, but I trow I need a
son. I am an old lone woman, and shall not keep thee long; and I have
loved thee as if I had been thine own mother. Promise me, mine own dear
lad, that thou wilt not go hence while I live."

Richard looked up with the tears in his eyes, and told her, as he kissed
her hand, that it was no wish of his to depart, and that he would not do
so without her full consent.

"That shalt thou have never!" was the answer. So Richard remained at
Lovell Tower. On the morning of which I speak, little Geoffrey, who was
very fond of Richard, and was petted by him perhaps rather more than was
good for him, had suddenly espied him at the farther end of the garden,
and instantly rushed after him as fast as his little legs would carry
him. A few minutes afterwards, Cicely came into the kitchen from the
hall, and announced to her mistress that a strange gentleman wished to
see her. Dame Lovell took off her apron, and rinsed her hands in water.

"See thou to the marchpane, Kat," remarked she to Mistress Katherine, as
she went to receive her guest.

It was no wonder that Cicely had not known him, for some seconds elapsed
before Dame Lovell herself could recognise Lord Marnell. Six years had
passed since they met at his marriage to Margery, but he looked at least
twenty years older. His figure was still upright, though much thinner,
but the very form of his features seemed changed, and his rich auburn
hair was now white as drifted snow. His manner, which had been blunt
and almost boisterous, was remarkably quiet. When he saw that Dame
Lovell did not recognise him, he said, with a smile--

"You know me not, fair mother?"

Dame Lovell's astonishment overcame her enmity for the moment.

"Troth, I knew thee not, good son! is it truly thou? Nay, how changed
art thou!"

"I wis that well," he answered. "Where is Geoffrey?"

"I trow he be in the