sked at him if he thought aught should be. It seemed so strange
a thing to see _Robin_ sorrowful.

SELWICK HALL, DECEMBER YE XVI.
This morrow, my Lady _Stafford_, Aunt _Joyce_, and I, were sat at our
work alone in the great chamber. _Milly_ was gone with _Mother_
a-visiting poor folk, and Sir _Robert_ and Mistress _Martin_, with
_Helen_ for guide, were away towards _Thirlmere_,--my Lady _Stafford_
denying to go withal, by reason she had an ill rheum catched yesterday
amongst the snowy lanes. All at once, up looks my Lady, and she saith--

"_Joyce_, what is this I heard yestereven of old _Mall Crewdson_,
touching one _Everett_, or _Tregarvon_--she wist not rightly which his
name were--that hath done a deal of mischief in these parts of late?
What manner of mischief?--for old _Mary_ was very mysterious. May-be I
do not well to ask afore _Edith_?"

"Ay, _Dulcie_, well enough," saith Aunt _Joyce_, sadly, "for _Edith_
knows the worst she can already. And if you knew the worst you could--"

"Why, what is it?" quoth she.

"_Leonard_," saith Aunt _Joyce_, curtly.

"_Leonard_!" Every drop of blood seemed gone out of my Lady's face. "I
thought he was dead, years gone."

"So did not I," Aunt _Joyce_ made low answer.

"No, I wis thou never didst," saith my Lady, tenderly. "So thy love is
still alive, _Joyce_? Poor heart!"

"My heart is," she saith. "As for love, it is poor stuff if it can
die."

"There is a deal of poor stuff abroad, then," quoth her Ladyship. "In
very deed, so it is. So he is yet at his old work?"

Aunt _Joyce_ only bent her head.

"Well, it were not possible to wish he had kept to the new," pursueth
she. "I do fear there were some brent in _Smithfield_, that had been
alive at this day but for him. But ever since Queen _Mary_ died hath he
kept him so quiet, that in very deed I never now reckoned him amongst
the living. Where is he now?"

"God wot," saith Aunt _Joyce_, huskily.

My Lady was silent awhile: and then she saith--

"Well, may-be better so. But _Joyce_, doth _Lettice_ know?"

"That _Tregarvon_ were he? Not without _Aubrey_ hath told her these
last ten days: and her face saith not so."

"No, it doth not," my Lady makes answer. "But Sir _Aubrey_ wist, then?
His face is not wont to talk unless he will."

"In no wise," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "Ay, _Dulcibel_; I had to tell him."

"Thou?" saith my Lady, pityingly.

"None knew hi