re of life, as against the
ill-humored, parsimonious master whom she served, "an you sit there so
determinedly, I cannot prevent you, can I? ..."

Then as she perceived the look of misery on the young man's face, his
pale cheeks, his otherwise vigorous frame obviously attenuated by fear,
the motherly instinct present in every good woman's heart caused her to
go up to him and to address him timidly, offering such humble solace as
her simple heart could dictate:

"Lud preserve you, good master, I pray you do not take on so.... You
know Master Courage and I, now, never believed all those stories about
ye. Of a truth Master Busy, he had his own views, but then ... you see,
good master, he and I do not always agree, even though I own that he is
vastly clever with his discoveries and his clews; but Master Courage now
... Master Courage is a wonderful lad ... and he thinks that you are a
persecuted hero! ... and I am bound to say that I, too, hold that
view...."

"Thank you! ... thank you, kind mistress," said Lambert, smiling despite
his dejection, at the girl's impulsive efforts at consolation.

His head had sunk down on his breast, and he sat there in the
high-backed chair, one hand resting on each leather-covered arm, his
pale face showing almost ghostlike against the dark background, and with
the faint November light illumining the dark-circled eyes, the bloodless
lips, and deeply frowning brow.

Mistress Charity gazed down on him with mute and kindly compassion.

Then suddenly a slight rustling noise as of a kirtle sweeping the
polished oak of the stairs caused the girl to look up, then to pause a
brief while, as if what she had now seen had brought forth a new train
of thought; finally, she tiptoed silently out through the door of the
dining-hall.

"Charity! Mistress Charity, I want you! ..." called Lady Sue from
above.

We must presume, however, that the wench had closed the heavy door
behind her, for certainly she did not come in answer to the call. On the
other hand, Richard Lambert had heard it; he sprang to his feet and saw
Sue descending the stairs.

She saw him, too, and it seemed as if at sight of him she had turned and
meant to fly. But a word from him detained her.

"Sue!"

Only once had he thus called her by her name before, that long ago night
in the woods, but now the cry came from out his heart, brought forth by
his misery and his sorrow, his sense of terrible injustice and of an
irretrievab