the hum of
insects in the hot air, or the quick flight of a bird in the tall trees
behind the hedge.

Here too Isabel often came, also bringing her embroidery; and sat and
talked and watched the wrinkled tranquil faces of the two old ladies, and
envied their peace. Hubert had gone, as he had promised his father, on a
long visit, and was not expected home until at least the autumn.

"James will be here to-morrow," said Lady Maxwell, suddenly, one hot
afternoon. Isabel looked up in surprise; he had not been at home for so
long; but the thought of his coming was very pleasant to her.

"And Mary Corbet, too," went on the old lady, "will be here to-morrow or
the day after."

Isabel asked who this was.

"She is one of the Queen's ladies, my dear; and a great talker."

"She is very amusing sometimes," said Mistress Margaret's clear little
voice.

"And Mr. James will be here to-morrow?" said Isabel.

"Yes, my child. They always suit one another; and we have known Mary for
years."

"And is Miss Corbet a Catholic?"

"Yes, my dear; her Grace seems to like them about her."

When Isabel went up again to the Hall in the evening, a couple of days
later, she found Mr. James sitting with his mother and aunt in the same
part of the garden. Mr. James, who rose as she came through the yew
archway, and stood waiting to greet her, was a tall, pleasant,
brown-faced man. Isabel noticed as she came up his strong friendly face,
that had something of Hubert's look in it, and felt an immediate sense of
relief from her timidity at meeting this man, whose name, it was said,
was beginning to be known among the poets, and about whom the still more
formidable fact was being repeated, that he was a rising man at Court and
had attracted the Queen's favour.

As they sat down again together, she noticed, too, his strong delicate
hand in its snowy ruff, for he was always perfectly dressed, as it lay on
his knee; and again thought of Hubert's browner and squarer hand.

"We were talking, Mistress Isabel, about the play, and the new theatres.
I was at the Blackfriars' only last week. Ah! and I met Buxton there," he
went on, turning to his mother.

"Dear Henry," said Lady Maxwell. "He told me when I last saw him that he
could never go to London again; his religion was too expensive, he said."

Mr. James' white teeth glimmered in a smile.

"He told me he was going to prison next time, instead of paying the fine.
It would be cheaper, he thoug