ened on the stone stair in the gray wall. The
view from the windows revealed that they were very high up. There was
a bit of castle wall to be seen below, and beyond a sea of forest, the
dark masses of pine throwing out the lighter, more delicate sweeps of
beech, and pale purple distance beyond--not another building within
view, giving a sense of vast solitude to Eleanor's eyes, more dreary
than the sea at Dunbar, and far more changeless. An occasional bird was
all the variety to be hoped for.

By and by Barbe brought a message that her masters requested the ladies'
presence at the meal, a dinner, in fact, served about an hour before
noon. Eleanor greatly demurred, but Barbe strongly advised consent, 'Or
my young lord will be coming up here,' she said; 'they both wish to have
speech of you, and would have been here before now, if my old lord were
not so lame, and the young one so shy, the poor child!'

'Shy,' exclaimed Eleanor, 'after what he has dared to do to us!'

'All the more for that very reason,' said Barbe.

'True,' returned Madame; 'the savage who is most ferocious in his acts
is most bashful in his breeding.'

'How should my poor boy have had any breeding up here in the forests?'
demanded Barbe. 'Oh, if he had only fixed his mind on a maiden of his
own degree, she might have brought the good days back; but alas, now
he will be only bringing about his own destruction, which the saints
avert.'

It was agreed that Eleanor had better make as royal and imposing an
appearance as possible, so instead of the plain camlet riding kirtles
that she and Lady Lindsay had worn, she donned a heraldic sort of
garment, a tissue of white and gold thread, with the red lion ramping
on back and breast, and the double tressure edging all the hems, part
of the outfit furnished at her great-uncle's expense in London, but too
gaudy for her taste, and she added to her already considerable height by
the tall, veiled headgear that had been despised as unfashionable.

Jean from her bed cried out that she looked like Pharaoh's daughter in
the tapestry, and consented to be left to the care of little Trudchen,
since Madame de Ste. Petronelle must act attendant, and Barbe evidently
thought her young master's good behaviour might be the better secured by
her presence.

So, at the bottom of the narrow stone stair, Eleanor shook out her
plumes, the attendant lady arranged her veil over her yellow hair, and
drew out her short train and lo