ause I have to wait long for the summons to join my Lady
Pembroke, and she starts on the morrow. I hate pity, Mary;--pity, indeed,
from a frump like that! I can snap my fingers at her, and tell her she will
want my pity--not I hers.'

'Go and finish your work, Lucy,' Mary said. 'Strive after a gentler and
more patient spirit. It fills me with foreboding when you give your tongue
such licence.'

'Mary!' Lucy said, with a sudden vehemence. 'Mary! I heard you sobbing last
night--I know I did. I heard you praying for help. Oh! Mary, I love you--I
love you, and I would fain know why you are more unhappy than you were a
while agone. Has it aught to do with that black, dreadful man I saw on the
hill?'

'Do not speak of him--not a soul must know of him. Promise, Lucy!' Mary
said.

'But George Ratcliffe knows how he scared me that day, though he did not
see him. He said he would track him out and belabour him as he deserved.'

And now, before Mary could make any rejoinder, Ambrose was calling from the
head of the stairs,--

'Mother, I am tired of staying here, let me come down.'

'Yes, come, Ambrose,' Mary said, 'mother's work is over, and she can have
you now near her.'

The child was the next minute in his mother's arms.

Mary covered him with kisses.

'And you have stayed in my chamber for these two hours?' she said. 'My
good, brave boy!'

'Yes; I stayed,' the child said, 'because I promised, you know. I didn't
like it--and when a lady rode up on a big grey horse, I did begin to run
down, and then I stopped and went back to the lattice, and only looked at
her. It was not a horse like Mr Sidney's, and I should not care to ride on
a pillion--I like to sit square, like Mr Sidney does. When will he come
again? If he comes, will you tell him I am learning to be a dutiful boy? He
told me to be a dutiful boy, because I had no father; and I _will_ be
dutiful and take care of you, sweet mother!'

'Ah, Ambrose! Ambrose!' Mary said, 'you are my joy and pride, when you are
good and obedient, and we will take care of each other, sweetheart, and
never part--'

'Not till I am a big man,' Ambrose said, doubtfully, 'not till I am a big
man, then--'

'We will not speak of that day yet--it is so far off. Now we must set the
board for dinner, and you shall help me to do it, for it is near eleven
o'clock.'

CHAPTER VI

THREE FRIENDS

'To lose good days that might be better spent,
To waste long nights in pens