ere be no eavesdroppers about, and that your Ladyship be pleased to
keep strait silence thereupon. Otherwise, I dare not utter that
wherewith his Grace's letter hath ado."

"There be no ears at hand save my bower-woman's, and I will answer for
her as for myself. I can keep silence when need is. Speak on."

"Then, Lady, I give you to know that the Duchess' Grace, your mother, is
now in ward under keeping of my father, at Hazelwood Manor, and--"

Lady Basset had risen to her feet, with a strange glow in her eyes.

"My mother!" she said.

"Your Lady and mother, Dame; and she--"

"My mother!" she said, again. "My mother! I thought my mother was dead
and buried, years and years ago!"

"Verily, no, Lady; and my Lord Archbishop's Grace doth most earnestly
desire your Ladyship to pay her visit, she being now near death, and
your Lord and brother the Duke denying to come unto her."

The glow deepened in the dark eyes.

"My Lord my brother refused to go to my mother?"

"He did so, Dame."

"And she is near death?"

"Very near, I am told, Lady."

"And he wist it?"

"He wist it."

Lady Basset seemed for a moment to have forgotten everything but the
one.

"Lead on," she said. "I will go to her--poor Mother! I can scarce
remember her; I was so young when taken from her. But I think she loved
me once. I will go, though no other soul on earth keep me company."

"Lady," said Godfrey, saying the exact reverse of truth, "I do right
heartily trust your Lord shall not let you therein."

"What matter?" she said. "If the Devil and all his angels stood in the
way, I would go to my dying mother."

She left the room for a minute, and to Godfrey's dismay came back
attired for her journey, as if she meant to set out there and then.

"But, Lady!" he expostulated.

"You need not tarry for me," she said, calmly. "I can find the way, and
I have sent word to bid mine horses."

This was unendurable. Godfrey, in his dismay, left the room with only a
courtesy, and sought Lord Basset in the hall.

"Ah! she's taken the bit betwixt her teeth," said he. "I warrant you'd
best leave her be; she'll go now, if it be on a witch's broom. I'll
forbid it, an' you will, but I do you to wit I might as well entreat yon
tree not to wave in the wind. When she doth take the bit thus, she's--"

An emphatic shake of Lord Basset's head finished the sentence. He rose
as if it were more trouble than it was reasonable to impose, walke