erine, and shall eat at
the high table."

Lord Marnell thanked her sincerely for her readiness to comply with his
wishes. He said that Alice should come down to Lovell Tower as soon as
she could conveniently set out, and old Christopher, as the most trusty
of his household, should escort her. There was silence for a short
time, and then, with a kind of shadow of a smile, Lord Marnell said
suddenly--

"Do you hate me, fair mother?"

"I did afore I saw thee this morrow," replied Dame Lovell, candidly.

"And wherefore not after?"

"Meseemeth thou hast repented thyself of thy deed."

"Repented!" said Lord Marnell, mournfully. "Mother, will you crede me
if I tell you that no sorrow worser than this can ever befall me, and
that had I known what would come of my seeking of Abbot Bilson, I had
sooner cut off my right hand?"

"I do," said she.

"Madge knew it, poor damsel! and she said she forgave me in such manner
as Christ did forgive herself. Will you do the like, mother?"

"With all mine heart and soul, good son!" cried Dame Lovell, every shred
of her animosity vanished, and the tears fairly running down her cheeks.

"Don't cry, g'ammer!" exclaimed little Geoffrey, jumping off his
father's knee and running to Dame Lovell. "What are you crying for?
Somebody hurt you? If they have, I'll kill 'em!"

Dame Lovell laughed through her tears at Master Geoffrey's threat. She
was a good deal surprised when Lord Marnell spoke of going away; but he
said he had promised his cousin Sir Ralph that he would stay with him
next time he came into the neighbourhood; and he must return to London
in a day or two. So he only remained to dinner, and departed
immediately afterwards, evoking from Geoffrey the significant remark
that "he liked him a great deal better this time."

That evening, Dame Lovell and Friar Andrew sat down by the fire to
listen to that last letter. Her widow's dress, somewhat resembling that
of a nun, but pure white, left only her eyes, nose, and mouth visible.
Richard Pynson, in a rather more ambitious costume than the page's suit
wherein we made his acquaintance, seated himself in the opposite corner.
How like Margery's voice the letter sounded, in that old hall at Lovell
Tower!--so much so, that it seemed scarcely a stretch of fancy to expect
her to glide down the stair which led from her chamber, where her child
now lay sleeping. How well Richard could recall the scene when, six
years before, she c