o Clarice Barkeworth. A few weeks after Vivian's death,
the Earl silently put a parchment into her hand, which conveyed to her
the information that King Edward had granted to his well-beloved cousin,
Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, the marriage of Clarice, widow of Vivian
Barkeworth, knight, with the usual proviso that she was not to marry one
of the King's enemies. This was, indeed, something for which to be
thankful. Clarice knew that her future was as safe in her master's
hands as in her own.

"Ah!" said Heliet, when that remark was made to her, "if we could only
have felt, dear heart, that it was as safe in the hands of his Master!"

"Was I very faithless, Heliet?" said Clarice, with tears in her eyes.

"Dear heart, no more than I was!" was Heliet's answer.

"But has it not occurred to thee, Heliet, now--why might I not have had
Rosie?"

"I know not, dear Clarice, any more than Rosie knew, when she was a babe
in thine arms, why thou gavest her bitter medicine. Oh, leave all that
alone--our Master understands what He is doing."

It was the middle of September, and about two months after Vivian's
death. Clarice sat sewing, robed in the white weeds of widowhood, in
the room which she usually occupied in the Countess's tower. The
garments worn by a widow were at this time extremely strict and very
unbecoming, though the period during which they were worn was much less
stringent than now. From one to six months was as long as many widows
remained in that condition. Heliet had not been seen for an hour or
more, and Mistress Underdone, with some barely intelligible remarks very
disparaging to "that Nell," who stood, under her, at the head of the
kitchen department, had disappeared to oversee the venison pasty.
Clarice was doing something which she had not done for eight years,
though hardly aware that she was doing it--humming a troubadour song.
Getting past an awkward place in her work, words as well as music became
audible--

"And though my lot were hard and bare,
And though my hopes were few,
Yet would I dare one vow to swear
My heart should still be true."

"Wouldst thou, Clarice?" asked a voice behind her.

Clarice's delicate embroidery got the worst of it, for it dropped in a
heap on the rushes, and nobody paid the slightest attention to it for a
considerable time. Nor did any one come near the room until Heliet made
her appearance, and she came so slowly, and heralded her approach by
such emph