usly.

She made no answer, save to look him in the face with calm composure.

"Who is this De Lacy," the Earl asked with, a supercilious shrug; "one
of the new nobility?"

A faint smile came into her eyes.

"New? May be, my lord--the term is but relative--yet _I_ would scarce
call him so: his ancestor came with Norman William and built
Pontefract."

"So . . . one of old Ilbert's stock. Well, even a Ware may not cavil
at that blood . . . though it is passing strange I never heard of him
until within the week."

"Strange for him or for you?" she asked.

"For me, of course--seeing that he has been so much at Court." The
tone was bantering, yet the sarcasm was deliberately veiled.

She turned upon him rather sharply.

"My lord," said she, "if you would criticise Sir Aymer de Lacy, do not,
I pray, make me your confidant. He is my good friend."

"And you like him . . . well?" he questioned.

"Aye, that I do," she retorted instantly. "It is a pity his sort are
growing scarce."

"His sort!" the Earl inflected. "In family, mean you, or in looks?"

"In manners, mainly."

The Earl shrugged his shoulders. "French training," he drawled.
"There never was one came from that Court but caught you all with his
bow and talk."

"Perchance, my lord, it has never occurred to you that, save in him she
wed, a woman cares only for a man's manners and his speech."

"And what does she care for in him she weds?"

"Ask her whom you wed."

"And what, think you, will the bride of this De Lacy find in him
beneath his bow and speech?"

She turned and looked him in the eyes.

"An English gentleman--a trusty Knight," she answered.

He laughed--and now his air was light and merry.

"Believe me, my lady, I have no quarrel with your De Lacy," he said;
"I, too, like him well. But I envy him his champion. Marry, how you
rapped me with voice and eye. I wonder, would you do the same for me?"

"Yes, for you . . . and the Lady Mary."

"And why the Lady Mary?" he asked, after a pause.

"If you do not know, then there is no 'why,'" said she, facing about
and looking up stream. "However, she is coming and, perchance, can
answer for herself. Shall I ask her . . . or will you?"

The touching of the boat just inside the St. Thomas Gate saved him an
answer. Giving the Countess his hand he aided her to alight, and
almost immediately De Lacy's barge ran in; and, he and Lady Mary
disembarking, the four sauntered across the vas