th of the Countess, how her
future had been arranged.

The maiden herself, in ignorance of all arrangements made or imagined,
was indulging in some rather despondent meditations. The state of the
Countess, whom she deeply pitied; the probably near parting from
Perrote, whom she had learned to love; and another probable parting of
which she would not let herself think, were enough to make her heart
sink. She would, of course, go back to her uncle, unless it pleased
Lady Foljambe to recommend (which meant to command) her to the service
of some other lady. And Amphillis was one of those shy, intense souls
for whom the thought of new faces and fresh scenes has in it more fear
than hope. She knew that there was just a possibility that Lady
Foljambe might put her into Ricarda's place, which she had not yet
filled up, three or four different negotiations to that end having
failed to effect it; and either this or a return to her uncle was the
secret hope of her heart. She highly respected and liked her new Aunt
Regina, and her Uncle Robert was the only one of her relatives on the
mother's side whom she loved at all. Yet the prospect of a return to
London was shadowed by the remembrance of Alexandra, who had ever been
to Amphillis a worry and a terror.

As Amphillis sat by the window, she now and then lifted her head to look
out for a moment; and she did so now, hearing the faint ring of a horn
in the distance. Her eyes lighted on a party of horsemen, who were
coming up the valley. They were too far away to discern details, but
she saw some distant flashes, as if something brilliant caught the
sunlight, and also, as she imagined, the folds of a banner floating.
Was it a party of visitors coming to the Manor, or, more likely, a group
of travellers on their way to Chesterfield from Derby? Or was it--oh,
was it possible!--the Duke of Bretagne?

Amphillis's embroidery dropped on the rushes at her feet, as she sprang
up and watched the progress of the travellers. She was pretty sure
presently that the banner was white, then that some of the travellers
were armed, then that they were making for Hazelwood, and at last that
the foremost knight of the group wore a helmet royally encircled. She
hardly dared to breathe when the banner at last showed its blazon as
pure ermine; and it scarcely needed the cry of "Notre Dame de Gwengamp!"
to make Amphillis rush to the opposite room, beckon Perrote out of it,
and say to her in bre