"Simon must tell us that," smiled the Vicar.

"In good time, in good time," I cried again. "But tell me first, when
did my lord come here from London?"

"Why, a week ago. My lady was sick, and the physician prescribed the air
of the country for her. But my lord stayed four days only and then was
gone again."

I started and sat upright in my seat.

"What, isn't he here now?" I asked eagerly.

"Why, Simon," said my good mother with a laugh, "we looked to get news
from you, and now we have news to give you! The King has sent for my
lord; I saw his message. It was most flattering and spoke of some urgent
and great business on which the King desired my lord's immediate
presence and counsel. So he set out two days ago to join the King with a
large train of servants, leaving behind my lady, who was too sick to
travel."

I was surprised at these tidings and fell into deep consideration. What
need had the King of my lord's counsel, and so suddenly? What had been
done at Dover would not be opened to Lord Quinton's ear. Was he summoned
as a Lord of Council or as his daughter's father? For by now the King
must know certain matters respecting my lord's daughter and a humble
gentleman who had striven to serve her so far as his station enabled him
and without undue forwardness. We might well have passed my lord's coach
on the road and not remarked it among the many that met us as we drew
near to London in the evening. I had not observed his liveries, but that
went for nothing. I took heed of little on that journey save the bearing
of Mistress Barbara. Where lay the meaning of my lord's summons? It came
into my mind that M. de Perrencourt had sent messengers from Calais, and
that the King might be seeking to fulfil in another way the bargain
whose accomplishment I had hindered. The thought was new life to me. If
my work were not finished--. I broke off; the Vicar's hand was on my
knee again.

"Touching the prophecy----" he began.

"Indeed, sir, in good time you shall know all. It is fulfilled."

"Fulfilled!" he cried rapturously. "Then, Simon, fortune smiles?"

"No," I retorted, "she frowns most damnably."

To swear is a sin, to swear before ladies is bad manners, to swear in
talking to a clergyman is worst of all. But while my mother and my
sister drew away in offence (and I hereby tender them an apology never
yet made) the Vicar only smiled.

"A plague on such prophecies," said I sourly.

"Yet if it be fulfilled!"