ever of her love and blessing."

"And my father? O Master Pynson, my father! my father!"

She sat down, and buried her face in her hands, and wept; for though
Richard had made no answer in words, his face told his tidings too
unmistakably. Sir Geoffrey Lovell was dead. After a time Margery
looked up whiter and more wan than ever, and begged to know the
particulars of her father's death. Richard informed her that Sir
Geoffrey had been taken ill three days only before he died; they had
immediately summoned Master Carew, who was a physician, and who had
pronounced that since he could not live many days, it would be useless
to send for his daughter, who could not possibly reach Lovell Tower in
time to see him alive. Dame Lovell was well in health, but had quite
lost her old cheerfulness, and appeared to feel her husband's death very
acutely. It had been arranged that Friar Andrew should remain with Dame
Lovell as her confessor. As to himself, Richard said that he should of
course return to his father for a time, until he could by some act of
bravery or special favour receive the honour of knighthood; but he did
not like to say anything to Dame Lovell about leaving her, so long as he
saw that he was of any use to her, as he knew that she regarded him in
the light of an adopted son, and had especially seemed to cling to him
since Margery's departure.

Margery replied that she would have requested for him the favour of
knighthood in a moment at the hands of Lord Marnell, but she did not
like to ask him for anything so long as he was displeased with her.

Richard inquired after Lord Marnell. Margery said he was well, and was
with the King at Havering-atte-Bower: but talking about him seemed to
increase her look of weariness and woe. She turned the subject by
inquiring again about her old friends. Cicely and the maids, Richard
told her, were well; but old Beaudesert always howled whenever he was
asked for Madge; and Lyard would stand switching his tail in the meadow,
and looking wistfully at the house for the young mistress whom he must
never see again.

"You miss me, then, all?" said Margery, mournfully.

"You will never know how sore," was Richard's answer.

Another pause ensued--there seemed some strange constraint between
them--and then Richard asked--

"And what tidings take I home, good my Lady? Dame Lovell bade me have a
care to ask how you fared, and the child. I grieve to hear from Alice
Jordan that