cape from the life at Ford Manor. And now
that she had escaped, now that a bright future had opened before her,
suddenly that future was clouded, and she was to return whence she came,
and would, doubtless, have to bear the gibes of her stepmother, who had, at
parting, said, 'She would be back in a trice, like a bad penny, returned as
worthless.'

A prophecy fulfilled sooner than she had expected.

All this time Humphrey's letter had not been opened, and Lady Pembroke
said,--

'Let us know Master Ratcliffe's wishes; he is, as I know, a good friend to
your sister.'

'He will sure tell me to go back, but I cannot find little Ambrose; and I
am not skilled in nursing the sick, Madam, I know. Goody Pearse, in the
village, would tend Mary better. I love Mary. I love her dearly; and I
grieve about Ambrose, but--'

'But you love yourself better than either your sister or her boy,' Lady
Pembroke said. 'Now, cut the string of that letter and let me know its
contents.'

Lucy did as she was bid. Something in Lady Pembroke's grave manner made her
feel that she was not pleased with her, and, of all things, she longed to
win favour with her--Mr Sidney's sister!

There were only a few words on the piece of folded parchment.

* * * * *

'Mistress Lucy, you must crave leave of my lady, the Countess of Pembroke,
to return to Ford Manor. Your sister is in sore distress--her boy lost, and
she is lying sick and sad. Hasten to get leave to return on the morrow with
the gentlewomen and esquires, who are to reach Penshurst with my Lady
Sidney and Master Thomas. I am now, by leave of Mr Sidney, starting on the
quest for your nephew Ambrose Gifford. Pray God I may find him.

'Yours to command, and in haste.
'HUMPHREY RATCLIFFE.'

* * * * *

'This letter from so wise a gentleman leaves no alternative,' Lady Pembroke
said, as she scanned its contents, and then handed it back to Lucy.

'Orders shall be given for your joining the retinue which sets off for
Penshurst the morrow. Meantime, Lucy, return to your duties, and crave
pardon of Mistress Crawley for your insubordination.'

'And I may return? Oh! Madam, I pray you, say I may return to you. Do not
cast me off.'

'I shall be at Wilton for some months, and thither I may send for you, if,
as I trust, you will not be needed at Ford Manor.'

Lucy still lingered.

'Forgive me, Madam; do not dismiss me without for