grave gentleness,
"but you would not have him. So that he must come to us."

"But that--all that was long ago," she whispered, thinking that she
spoke aloud, her eyes lost in the boy's.

"Here they grow slowly, being nearly soulless when they come," said the
Countess. "He would have been your oldest son, had he stayed with you."

"'Here!' In God's name, where am I?" she cried. "Am I dead, then, at
last? But I had not thought--I had hoped for peace. I had counted on
rest."

"Rest?" the Countess echoed her, "and why should you look for that, my
guest? What, in all the worlds of God, rests? You are a strange people,
beyond the Dunes.... But you are not dead. No dead come here."

She took her by the hand, the boy clinging to the other, and walked with
her to the great fire. Here they sat down to tapestry work, green and
blue and russet weavings, and the woman folded her hands in her lap and
watched them moodily. At last she spoke.

[Illustration: Here they sat down to tapestry work, green and blue and
russet weavings.]

"You will never make a huntsman at that rate, Alys--one would think him
standing on his horse."

"Help her, then," said the Countess, and her guest took a piece of
charcoal and drew out a fair pattern for the girl.

"And mine, madam?" "And mine?" cried the others, and she leaned over the
shoulder of each and made her a true picture for her work. But her eye
was often on the boy and when the girls were all busy at last, she spoke
softly to him.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Madam, they call me Gildres," said he.

"And what do you do, Gildres, in this strange castle?"

"Is it strange?" said the boy. "I do not know. I am to be squire to the
lord, my lady's brother, soon, and now I learn falconry and the care of
his armour and sometimes I serve the Mass. I wait on my lady herself,
too, for I must learn that. But I like best to colour the missals with
Father Petrus--you should see the phoenix I did, madam, and the
leopard, last week! He said it was brave work--all blue and stars with
red pierced hearts in the border, madam--and that the church needed me."

She put her hand on his dark head and sighed.

"If I had kept you with me, you should have made your leopards, dear,"
she said gently, "but now I have no right in you."

"Nay, but you may help him," said the Countess briskly, "run and get thy
phoenix, boy, and she will show thee where even that wondrous bird is
at fault."

And when t