ce across to
Humfrey and titter, but the Duke valued popularity among the citizens,
and would not catch her eye; and in the line behind the royal ladies
there was a sweet elderly face, beautiful, though time-worn, with blue
eyes misty with proud glad tears, and a mouth trembling with tender
exultation.

After the ceremony was concluded, King Henry offered his hand to the Lady
Mayoress, Dame Alice Whittington, making her bright tears drop in glad
confusion at his frank, hearty congratulation and warm praise of her
husband; and though the fair Catherine could have shuddered when Sir
Richard advanced to lead her, she was too royal to compromise her dignity
by visible scorn, and she soon found that the merchant could speak much
better French than most of the nobles.

Malcolm felt as averse as did the French princesses to burgher wealth and
splendour, and his mind had not opened to understand burgher worth and
weight; and when he saw the princes John and Humfrey, and even his own
king, seeking out city dames and accosting them with friendly looks, it
seemed to him a degrading truckling to riches, from which he was anxious
to save his future queen; but when he would have offered his arm to Lady
Joan, he saw her already being led away by an alderman measuring at least
a yard across the shoulders; and the good-natured Earl of March, seeing
him at a loss, presented him to a round merry wife in a scarlet petticoat
and black boddice, its plump curves wreathed with geld chains, who began
pitying him for having been sent to the wars so young, being, as usual,
charmed into pity by his soft appealing eyes and unconscious grace; would
not believe his assertions that he was neither a captive nor a
Frenchman;--'don't tell her, when he spoke like a stranger, and halted
from a wound.'

Colouring to the ears, he explained that he had never walked otherwise;
whereupon her pity redoubled, and she by turns advised him to consult
Master Doctor Caius, and to obtain a recipe from Mistress--she meant
Dame--Alice Whittington, the kindest soul living, and, Lady Mayoress as
she was, with no more pride than the meanest scullion. Pity she had no
child--yet scarce pity either, since she and the good Lord Mayor were
father and mother to all orphans and destitute--nay, to all who had any
care on their minds.

Malcolm was in extreme alarm lest he should be walked up to the Lady
Mayoress for inspection before all the world when they entered the Guild