e great hall, but they never
exchanged a word. Clarice did not dare to lift her eyes, lest she
should meet those either of Vivian or Piers. She kept them diligently
fixed upon her trencher, with which she did little else than look at it.

The evening brought a lull in the excitement and busy labour. The
Countess, attended by Felicia, had gone to the Palace on royal
invitation. Clarice sat on the terrace, her eyes fixed on the river
which she did not see, her hands lying listlessly in her lap. Though
she had heard nothing, that unaccountable conviction of another
presence, which comes to us all at times, seized upon her; and she
looked up to see Piers Ingham.

The interview was long, and there is no need to add that it was painful.
The end came at last.

"Wilt thou forget me, Clarice?" softly asked Piers.

"I ought," was the answer, with a gush of tears, "if I can."

"I cannot," was the reply. "But one pain I can spare thee, my beloved.
The Lady means to retain thee in her service as damsel of the chamber."
[Note 1.]

If Clarice could have felt any lesser grief beside the one great one,
she would have been sorry to hear that.

"I shall retire," said Sir Piers, "from my Lord's household. I will not
give thee the misery of meeting me day by day. Rather I will do what I
can to help thee to forget me. It is the easier for me, since I have
had to offend my Lady by declining the hand of Felicia de Fay, which she
was pleased to offer me."

"The Lady offered Felicia to thee?"

Sir Piers bent his head in assent. Clarice felt as if she could have
poisoned Felicia, and have given what arsenic remained over to the Lady
Margaret.

"And are we never to meet again?" she asked, with an intonation of
passionate sorrow.

"That must depend on God's will," said Sir Piers, gravely.

Clarice covered her face with both hands, and the bitter tears trickled
fast through her fingers.

"Oh, why is God's will so hard?" she cried. "Could He not have left us
in peace? We had only each other."

"Hush, sweet heart! It is wrong to say that. And yet it is hardly
possible not to think it."

"It is not possible!" sobbed Clarice. "Does not God know it is not
possible?"

"I suppose He must," said Sir Piers, gloomily.

There was no comfort in the thought to either. There never is any to
those who do not know God. And Piers was only feeling after Him, if
haply he might find Him, and barely conscious even of that; while