CHAPTER XXVII THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

AFTER the battle the Earl of Hawick disbanded the greater part of his forces, retaining but a small nucleus in case it should be necessary to bring military aid to the party of Argyle and Glencairn in support of their covenant against the regent. With this small force he moved northward. The Duke was far too sore hurt to travel and neither he nor Aline were able to move for some time.

As soon, however, as they could sit a horse they set out for the Castle of Menstrie, where they arrived in due course and were most warmly welcomed by the Duchess of Ochil and her daughter Shiona, who had been anxiously awaiting Ian’s return after they first received news of his arrival in Scotland.

His mother was overjoyed to see him and he briefly told her the story of the child. When he had finished she kissed Aline and said, “You poor sweet thing, now at last you have reached a haven of rest and you must count me as your mother as far as I can be one.”

Aline had not before felt shy of her boy’s clothes, but the gentle courteous lady made her long for her own things and she blushingly began to apologise.

“You need not distress yourself, dear child,” said the Duchess; “we can soon remedy that. Indeed you look very pretty and you make so graceful a page that355 you need not regret your present garb,” she added kindly and stooped and kissed her again. “We shall just make you one of ourselves and you have only to tell us what you want. For the present we can send over to Stirling and get everything that you absolutely need this very day.”

In the evening, as they were all sitting by the fire, the Lady of Ochil leaned over and, taking Ian’s hand, said: “I have some sad news for you, my boy. You know that the estate was very sadly impoverished when your father succeeded. But he has been extravagant and your eldest brother was the same, and always borrowing from him. Worst of all, your brothers induced your father to make over to them during his lifetime, all the estates that he could. The regent, too, has already shown her hostility on your succession. It is a very long story; but you will have little but the title and the small original estates round the Castle. Even those are so burdened that I doubt whether we can continue to live here.”

“Do not mind, Mother, about me. I never expected anything, and so I shall not miss it; it is for you that I am sorry. You will feel the change so much.”

“No, my son. I am so glad to get you back that I mind nothing.”

Aline rose from where she was and sat down again on the floor at Ian’s feet. “I am so sorry for you,” she said, and once more she had that curious kind of feeling that she had noticed before. She was very sorry for Ian; but was she altogether sorry for the fact in itself? Did it not in some way bring them closer together?

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Ian’s sister, Shiona, had always worshipped her second brother; he was unto her as a god, and as she watched Aline it rather amused her to see, as it were, herself, over again, in the way that the child continually hovered round him. She was the youngest of the family, and now a tall slim girl of seventeen. She felt curiously shy of Ian, as she had not seen him for several years. He still looked very young; but he was now the head of the house in her father’s place.

She soon fell under Aline’s spell and the two girls became fast friends. Except in appearance and physique Aline was much in advance of her age; and her recent experiences had matured her view of life. The girls occupied the same room and were continually together when they could not be with Ian. Ian sometimes felt even a little touch of envy; he had come to regard Aline almost as though she specially belonged to him.

It was a time of considerable trouble and anxiety, both in public and private affairs, yet it was a very happy household in spite of all their troubles and difficulties. Ian was very slow in recovering his strength. Excitement had carried him through, but the collapse was all the more severe when it came. For two months he could move but little; however, he gradually began to be able to take short strolls out of doors.

Even before this he had set his mind to see what could be done to save the remnant of the estates. Rigid economy had to be practised, for he was determined that property that had been in the family for hundreds of years should not go if possible. Unfortunately only a small portion, even of the fragment, happened to be357 protected by entail. Consequently he found it necessary to reduce the fragment still further by selling two estates that had been acquired by his grandfather. They were so heavily burdened that the margin was very small, but it enabled him to prevent the foreclosure of his most pressing creditors. All the retainers and servants were dismissed except one serving man and a maid, the horses were sold and the castle was all shut up except the hall, the library and a few bedrooms. The arras, the plate and everything of value except the heirlooms were sold. The only thing Ian retained was a famous sword, given to him by the Regent Arran for his services against the Lords Wharton and Grey. It was of immense value, magnificently jewelled. He took it out and looked at it. No, he could not part with that. It was too full of association and interest.

The household arrangements were simplified to the barest necessities. The girls did the housework and Ian himself, when necessary, assisted the serving man. He wore the simplest homespun and his sister dressed as plainly as possible. Ian refused to allow his mother to wear the things that the rest of them did, because, he said, they all had the future before them in a way that she had not.

She smiled and kissed him, and assured him that she would be quite happy whatever she wore, as she had her dear son back again, and she chaffingly impressed upon him that it was still long before she would be an old lady.

Aline absolutely insisted on wearing things that even Mistress Mowbray would not have provided, both gowns358 and body linen. But they were beautifully made by Shiona and herself, and although the material was coarse, the general effect was always charming. She succeeded in getting some frieze in excellent shades of green and brown, that made most pleasing colour combinations with the brownish white of the full sleeves and skirt of her coarse dowlas chemise, and the rich red of her glorious hair.

The result of the new Duke’s efforts was that he gained the respect of every one; and two of his largest creditors came to him one day and not only said that they would not press for payment, but offered to lend him more at a much lower rate of interest. This offer he accepted and paid off a number of smaller creditors, who lived at a distance and did not know what was going on.

After a few months he brought things into such a condition that, though he saw no prospect of being anything but poor all his life, he hoped to leave the property in a fairly sound condition when he died.

There was one little extravagance that he had determined to allow himself. Aline’s thirteenth birthday took place in April and he resolved that she should have the happiest day of her life, if human means could accomplish it. He pondered for a long time how it was to be done; because he regarded the property rather as a trust than in any way his own. At last he bethought him of the sword. That at least was his own. It was, it was true, his most cherished possession; but he would part with it. He took it out one evening and fingered it fondly. Truly it was beautiful and the only relic of his early youth. Other things might be replaced, but that could not. Moreover it would be a359 joy forever, whereas a day’s pleasure was soon gone by. “’Sdeath. How could he think such things?” He hated himself. So he resolutely shut the case and turned the key. “What was a sword compared with Aline’s happiness?”

He had to take his sister into his confidence, as he wanted Aline to have a complete outfit for the occasion, and this Shiona was to arrange unknown to her. Ian took the sword to a goldsmith in Stirling, but the man did not like to take it, the sword was so well known and considered as one of the local marvels. At last he persuaded Ian to let him lend him the value of the sword, allowing a year in which it could be redeemed. Ian gave the man a few commissions to execute for the great occasion and departed.

Everything was planned with all secrecy and Aline was not told about it till two days before, when a number of persons arrived to put the old place into order. The old rooms were thrown open and cleaned, the arras, that had been sold, was temporarily replaced by other fine specimens. Sconces with hundreds of candles were brought and the floor and the furniture and the metalwork was polished till all shone like a mirror. The old heirlooms, including the magnificent nef[29] and other gold and silver plate, which Ian could not sell, but which had been put away, were brought out.

29 A gold or silver centre piece for the table made in the shape of a ship.

The beautiful old castle had never looked finer. Serving men and maids, pleasantly attired, were everywhere at hand. There was a new costume for every one. Ian’s was of very simple material, but he looked wonderfully360 handsome when he met Aline on the morning of the great day.

“I have a very nice present for your birthday, princess,” he said, stroking her hair, “but it will be rather a shock at the same time, so you must prepare yourself for it. I have been thinking that you need a lady’s maid,” he went on, laughing, “and I have succeeded in finding you one.”

“Marry, I need no lady’s maid,” she replied, somewhat puzzled at the twinkle in his eye, “and you must not think of such a thing. I prefer to look after myself. I am not a grand lady and, even if I were, I would rather not have one. I am sure I should not like her.”

“I am sure you would,” said Ian, “and in any wise you must try and like her, because I insist.”

“You must not tease me, your Grace, I really do not want one.”

“I will not be called ‘your Grace,’ pussie,” he said, gently pulling her hair.

“Well, if you get me a lady’s maid, I shall call you ‘your Grace’ and then we shall all be grand together.”

“But I have gotten her already. I heard of her in a curious way in a letter from Walter Margrove, but I kept it as a surprise until I could get hold of her.”

“Oh, but really, Ian, I do not want her,” Aline protested. “I should hate her. Yes, by my troth, I should,” and she looked genuinely distressed.

“You would not hate this one,” he replied a little sadly; “it is some one that you know. But I must not tease you.”

“Do you mean Audry?” she asked doubtfully.

“That would not be a shock, sweet child. No,—here361 she is.” He then beckoned to some one out of sight through the open door; and a slim girl of nearly twelve came shyly forward and stood hesitatingly on the threshold.

Aline gave a little startled glance and then looked at Ian, who smiled reassuringly. “O Joan,” she cried, “they told me you were dead.”

“I was very ill,” said the child, louting low, “but I was not dead, Mistress Aline; it was the little girl that came from Barnard Castle, who died, whom Mistress Ellen Allen had sent to Durham from Teesdale too, much in the same manner that you sent me.”

“But how did the mistake happen, Joan, and why did you not let me know?”

“The woman that was looking after me died, and I was taken to Newcastle. I was ill, oh, so ill for a long time and I knew nothing about it, and when I heard, I could not for long enough get any one to write for me and then, at last, I was told that you had disappeared. When Walter Margrove heard about it he looked me up in Newcastle and then, some time after, he told me that I was to go into service with the Right Honourable Sir Ian Menstrie, Knight of the Most Noble Order of St. Michael, Lord Duke of Ochil and Earl of Strath Allan, and I was so frightened.”

Ian could not control himself and the child had to pause while he laughed. “Whoever put all that into your head? Never mind, you can forget it,—just go on.”

“It was Walter Margrove, your Grace, and he told me not to be afeared, as I should find some one that I knew. But it was not till I came here last night that I knew who it was and, oh, Mistress Aline, I heard what you362 were saying just now and you will not hate me really, will you?”

“No, Joan, no, I will never hate you and indeed I am so glad to see you looking so much better”; and Aline flung her arms round the child’s neck and kissed her, while tears of joy stood in her eyes.

For a time the children forgot everything but themselves and Ian stood and watched them in their perfect happiness. Aline was very much taller than Joan and in contrast with the frail delicate child looked like a goddess of strength. Joan clung to her in ecstatic abandon and gazed into those wonderful ultramarine blue eyes as though they were the windows of heaven. “I never knew before what it was,” she said, “to be perfectly happy. Mistress Aline, I think the old folk at Holwick were right. You cannot be a child of ordinary flesh and blood like the rest of us.”

“Hush, Joan, you must not talk like that, and I told you long ago that you must not call me Mistress Aline. But, oh, I am so glad to get you back; you cannot tell how glad.”

Ian was just going to steal away and leave them to their joy, it was so pure, so unalloyed, when Aline suddenly bethought herself of him and leaving little Joan she rushed forward, seized his hand with both her own and pressed it to her lips. “It was you who thought out all this; oh, you are good to me.”

She lifted up her face and he printed a kiss on her forehead. “No, princess; you remember my quotation from Homer. It is you that are good to me. I owe you everything—I do not mean mere physical life—that is nothing—nothing.”

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The guests were to arrive at what a later age would have deemed the very early hour of eleven o’clock, so after breakfast Ian suggested that Aline should go upstairs and get ready.

“But I am ready,” she said.

“You cannot appear like that,” said Ian. “You must get Shiona to tidy you up,” he said with assumed severity.

“But I have nothing better than this,” she answered, just a little wistfully.

“Oh, yes, Shiona has some kind of a thing that will look better for to-day. Run along with her and take Joan; it can be an apprentice lesson for her.”

When Aline reached her room she was lost in amazement at the things that had been prepared for her and was charmed with them all. Shiona helped her to dress and Joan folded up the things she took off and put them away.

The linen was of the very finest quality that French looms could produce, smoother to the touch than anything she had ever worn, and adorned with bands of tela tirata. There was a pair of the fine silk hose that had recently been introduced into Britain, of a beautiful blue, somewhat lighter than those she had lost, and with white clocks. The broad toed shoes were of white kid, with blue satin showing through the slashes, and a large real sapphire set in silver on each shoe.

The camise was of soft white silk rather full, smocked at the throat and reaching below the knees, with two bands of lace insertion of the finest Italian punto a reticella near the hem. Above this Shiona put on the armless surcoat, which was low at the neck and short,364 showing the white camise both above and below as well as the arms, which were full at the shoulder but tighter toward the wrist. This was decorated round the open sides with orphreys or borders of cloth-of-silver embroidered with white heather, the badge of the Menstries, in which the little white blooms were real pearls.

The cloak was of rich blue velvet with two exquisitely designed diamond clasps and tasselled cords of white silk, the whole lined with white satin and adorned with a short cape and border of miniver. In the two lower corners and again near the clasps, it was delicately embroidered with coloured silk and gold and silver thread, after the fashion of old Scandinavian work. A belt of large rectangular silver plates, each with its own sculptured design, and a chatelaine of gold completed the costume. It was a little old-fashioned in style, but Ian preferred the lines of the earlier date to those that were coming into vogue.

Aline was so overwhelmed with delight that she did not at first pause to reflect; but after a time she suddenly exclaimed horror-struck; “Shiona, what are you doing; you know that I have not the right to wear any of these things, except perhaps the chemise? My father was a gentleman so I may wear white silk, and I might have had black velvet, but not blue. No one below a Knight of the Garter or the highest orders may wear blue velvet. I do not know even whether I may wear the chatelaine. I doubt if father had two hundred merks of land and of course I cannot wear cloth of silver or gold, no one less than barons can wear that; and as for miniver, I do not even know if barons may wear it: I believe I should have to be a countess, and365 I know for certain that diamonds and pearls are reserved for dukes and duchesses. So I shall have to take everything off and just wear my old things and the silk chemise”; and she gave a little sigh.

“It is all right, dear; we thought of that. Ian says that you are his ward now and that therefore they could not object to you wearing anything that I may wear, and I may wear anything I like except purple, which is reserved for the blood royal.”

To reach such a height of unimagined grandeur almost took Aline’s breath away. “By my troth this is a wonderful birthday,” she said, and little Joan looked on in sympathetic wonder, secretly pleased at being associated with any one so exalted. But her cup was filled to overflowing when she found that Ian had provided her with a costume of silk and fine red camlet trimmed with black velvet, besides a small gold chain, which things he said she was entitled to wear as a lady in waiting in his household.

Shiona was giving a few last attentions to Aline’s hair and adding the finishing touch, a blue velvet fillet decorated with five large crystals and three pearls;—“What wonderful hair you have, dear!” she said.

Aline had always refrained from any allusion to her hair and even turned the subject aside; but it had grown so phenomenally that she was feeling happier about it and she cried gaily;—“Oh, that’s nothing,” and darted away to Ian’s room, where she happened to find him.

Aline’s beauty was proverbial, but she looked more dazzling than ever. Ian caught her in his arms and kissed her. “You are the loveliest thing on earth,” he said.

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“Nonsense,” answered Aline, “but I want to show Shiona the hair that was cut off.”

Ian took it from its hiding place, handling it lovingly and gave it her. “Come back,” he said, “I have something else for you.”

She took the hair and with innocent joy showed it to Shiona, who was lost in astonishment. She then returned with it to Ian.

He carefully put it away and then said; “Shiona has dressed you, but I want to do the very last bit myself.” He then opened his hand and in it lay a light chain with a subtly designed pendant of which the dominant feature was a brilliant mass of red, one gigantic ruby, which Ian had taken from the pommel of his sword.

He clasped it round her neck and it just fell on the white silk. “One touch of red in the blue and white,” he said, “but after all, it’s not as fine a red as your lips, heartsease,” and he kissed them.

The stone was obviously of immense value and Aline tiptoed hesitatingly backward till she came to the wall. There on tiptoe she stood, with the palms of her hands flat against the wall and her chin slightly lifted till the back of her head also touched.

She was a little dazed. At first the beautiful things had been a sheer joy. Even the momentary cloud of the “sumptuary laws” had been swiftly dispelled; but now the thought suddenly overcame her;—“How could Ian afford it?” She noticed the plain simplicity of his own attire and her quick intuition told her the truth.

“Ian, Ian,” she cried, “you should not give me all367 these things. What have you done?—How did you do it?—You have parted with something you should not.”

She did not move and looked very tall in the becoming costume, standing with her heels raised high from the ground.

Suddenly Ian realised that she would soon be a child no longer, and then he would lose her. It came like a knife. He had not admitted even to himself how much she was to him; but his love for her had gradually absorbed his whole being. It was the greatest shock he had ever experienced in his life. He stepped forward and picked her up in his strong arms and kissed her passionately. “It was my sword, heart of mine,” he said, “but there is nothing in the world that I would not wish you to have.”

Aline endeavoured to protest, but he laughingly put his hand over her mouth and led her down-stairs.

There was a large concourse of guests and the dinner was quite a sumptuous ceremony, with a great boar’s head brought in with much solemnity. Ian and his mother sat in the middle of the high table and Aline had the seat of honour on his right.

When dinner was over they strolled in the pleasaunce and afterwards came in and played games such as hot cockles, and hunt the slipper, in which every one, both old and young, took part. Then followed the dancing. If the guests had been charmed before by Aline’s beauty, now they were enthralled. Aline and the Duke led off with a stately pavan and all watched with rapt interest the slow dreamy movements, that displayed to perfection the exquisite loveliness of the child’s form. Ian368 had learned dancing in Italy and France and was a consummate exponent of the art, so that the two made a picture the like of which had never been seen in broad Scotland. After the pavan they danced the cinque paces, a new dance not long introduced from Italy, which in turn was succeeded by the lively coranto, that gave a new opportunity for Aline to reveal her light and agile grace, vying in its airy swiftness with the beauty of the more studied movements of the slower dance. Ian’s costume was of a blue somewhat deeper in tone than Aline’s, with white hose and other touches of white as in hers; and the result made a pleasing colour effect as they whirled together in the dance.

But it was not only by her appearance, but by her subtle charm of manner that the child fascinated every one present. They had heard the main facts of her sad story and each and all did their utmost to give her pleasure. At the close of the evening they held a mock coronation ceremony, in which Aline was crowned with a plain gold circlet and then, while seated on the throne, every guest was presented to the Queen of the evening and they all kneeled and kissed her hand,—barons, earls, countesses and every one present.

Aline could not help a smile when the Earl of Hawick, who was present, kneeled before her. This was the man that only a few months ago she had been nervous to see and now he was humbly kneeling and kissing her hand.

It had been a supremely happy day for Aline, and her only regret was that Audry had not been able to share it. Even this was modified by a curious coincidence, after the guests had gone. They had all left369 early, as most of them had ridden from long distances and even those who were putting up in Stirling had some way to go.

After the last guest had departed, and while the family were seated round the hearth, the castle bell rang and they heard the drawbridge being lowered. Their own serving man appeared shortly afterward. “My lord, a man named Walter Margrove, who hath a boy with him, hath arrived and saith that he wisheth to see you on a matter of private concern.”

“Shew him up,” said Ian.

Walter Margrove came in somewhat hesitatingly, accompanied by a still more nervous lad. Aline in her white and blue costume rushed forward to greet them; whereat Walter was quite taken aback and Wilfred, for it was he, nearly turned tail and fled.

Ian advanced and shook their hands and presented them to the Duchess and the Lady Shiona. “If you had arrived a few minutes ago,” he said, “you should have been presented to the Queen’s Grace. Get on your throne again, Your Highness,” he said to Aline, and then with much laughter they made Walter and Wilfred kneel and kiss her hand.

Walter had recently been in Holwick and had decided that he might vary his programme by a tour in Scotland, and make it an opportunity of seeing Ian and Aline and little Joan, and of taking them the news from Upper Teesdale, together with a letter from Audry. The venture had proved a great success and Walter was in an unusually contented frame of mind, even for him.

“Sit down, man,” said Ian, “and tell us everything370 about Holwick. We should much like to know all that befell after we escaped.”

“Oh, but tarry a little, Ian,” said Aline; “there is something that must be done first. You tell Walter what we have been doing, while I talk awhile with Wilfred. Wilfred, come hither,” she continued, leading the way to one of the double seated windows.

“I am so glad to see you again, Wilfred,” she said, when they had sat down, “and you are looking well.”

“Yes, Mistress Aline, and I am glad to see you, and, oh, Mistress, you are looking bonnie in those brave things,” he added in a burst of boyish admiration, and then subsided overcome by shyness for having said too much.

“Wilfred,” she said, “you recall the last time that we met and what we spake about?”

“I do, indeed, and I shall not forget your sympathy.”

“Do you remember my saying that I thought the spirit of light must in its own time triumph over the spirit of darkness? I did not know at the time what moved me to say it. I only meant it in a general way, and yet I had a strange presentiment that it had some special meaning for you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Wilfred, what was the sad news that you heard at Kirkoswald? Tell me.”

“They told us that little Joan had gone to Durham and died there.”

“Yes, but did you hear it from any one who really knew Joan?”

“No, Mistress, it was from a man who had been over to Holwick.”

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“Then how do you know it was true?”

“Oh, Mistress Aline, Mistress Aline,” said the boy, “do you think it might be untrue?”

“I know it was untrue,” she said gently.

For the moment the boy was too overcome to speak. His heart beat violently, his eyes grew round and large. “Oh, tell me, tell me,” he besought.

“I promised that I would bring you back the things you gave to Joan. I cannot do that yet; so I am going to bring you Joan herself. She is here in this place.”

“Here in this place!” he repeated as Aline rose and went to fetch the little girl.

She was back in a minute or two and the boy was still seated in the same attitude, dumbfounded.

“Here she is, Wilfred,” she said, leading Joan forward by the hand.

The boy looked from one to the other too bewildered to know what to do. Oh, how lovely Joan looked in her red costume guarded with black velvet and the white linen chemise showing below her throat and beneath the velvet hem. But he was too bashful to advance.

Joan, however, was equal to the occasion. “Well, Wilfred, are you not going to speak to me?” and she stepped forward and threw her arms round his neck.

Aline withdrew and left the two children in the window seat, whence they emerged a few minutes afterwards and timidly drew near the group round the fire.

“Now tell us all about Holwick, Walter,” said Aline, making a place for the two children.

“Yes,” said Ian, “why were they so slow in pursuit?”

“Mistress Mowbray would not let them have the372 horses from the Hall and the folk broke the girths and bridles of their own horses, and finally they had to get fresh horses in Middleton. The excitement was tremendous; but the strangest thing to the most part of us was the behaviour of Mistress Mowbray. She seemed to be greatly concerned and wrung her hands and said, ‘By my Lady, I trust the child hath escaped,’ and, later in the day, Elspeth told me that she met Thomas in the lower quadrangle and he, knowing the hatred that Mistress Mowbray had toward you, must needs cry unto her. ‘Methinks those fresh horses from Middleton will soon bring the jade back,’ and she grew purple in the face and said to him that, if they did, she would see whether it were too late to lodge him in gaol because of the corn he had taken along with Andrew. I saw Thomas when I was there last. He is an ill creature, and he much misliked it when it was clear that Mistress Aline was safely away. Yet is he but a white livered knave. Father Ambrose rouseth my ire more than he.”

“But you spake of Mistress Mowbray,” said Ian.

“Yes, the first thing that she did was to send over to Appleby that very night for Mistress Audry, who came the next morning. Elspeth said that the proud woman wept on her neck, so that it were pity to see. I would not have been in the place of Father Martin or Father Austin if they had fallen into her power. For days she made the household tremble under the weight of her authority.

“The next day Master Richard came back looking like a broken man. He said he had tried everything but could do nothing. As the time passed on, and it373 gradually became clear that the pursuit had failed, he recovered himself.

“Luckily for Mistress Audry no one thought of questioning her as she had been away so long; but every one was marvelling who it could possibly have been that had dropped on a sudden from heaven.

“Then news began to leak through. First they heard that two of the pursuers had been buried at Haltwhistle. Then came the news of the night that you spent at Brampton. Wilfred Ackroyd was found and stuck to his tale that you had gone to Carlisle, but they found nothing there.”

“Oh, Wilfred!” said Aline.

“I cannot help it,” he said, “I did laugh when I saw them galloping off the wrong way.”

“Timothy held his peace,” continued Walter, “and no one seemed to connect the drowned prisoner in the Eden with Mistress Aline. Indeed I doubt if the tale of your drowning ever reached Holwick, your Grace. The priests went south and Master Mowbray failed to track them, at any rate at first. I believe he did eventually get into communication, but they refused to say anything.

“It seemed pretty clear that Mistress Aline had escaped but who was her saviour has remained to this day an insoluble mystery.”

“Then they guessed nothing from your letter, Ian?” said Aline.

“No,” said Walter. “When I was there your note, that you sent in a round about way through Master Eustace Cleveland, had just arrived. They were overjoyed to hear of the child’s safety and after much discussion374 came to the conclusion that Cleveland himself had something to do with it in spite of his denial. ‘Marry,’ said Mistress Mowbray, ‘I saw the way he was taken with the child.’ ‘So was every one except yourself, woman,’ said Master Richard, ‘that proves nothing.’ Mistress Mowbray mumbled something about not taking up with every new face, like some people, and Master Richard did not press the point.”

“Who told you that?” asked Aline.

“Mistress Audry, and she says that since the first few days, when her anger had passed, her mother has been much gentler than was her wont to every one. She has had your little garden carefully wrought over. ‘Mistress Aline might come back,’ she says. She is much changed.

“Master Richard believes that Mistress Aline is somewhere in hiding in Teesdale, but he has forbidden enquiry to be made, as he thinks, under the circumstances, it is safer, in the event of any attempt on the part of the authorities to find her, that they can all honestly say they know nothing. I believe that he personally thinks Master Gower knows more than Master Cleveland.”

“Now let me read Audry’s letter,” said Aline. This was a matter of some difficulty, as Audry was barely able to write; but the evident trouble, that the letter had been, made it a dearer token of affection. Aline made it out as follows:

    “To my dearest and most beloved cousin Aline Gillespie,

    “Thou canst not think how fain I was to get thy dear letter. Walter will tell thee the most part of the news, but I must with mine own hand tell thee how overjoyed I was to know of a surety of thy safety. When Mother sent for me and I came home I was heartbroken. I used to sleep in thy bed and kiss375 the things that thou hadst worn and cry myself to sleep. But gradually it seemed clear that thou hadst escaped and I offered up many prayers of thankfulness as shall I again and again this night.

    “I have one item of good news. Dost remember the linen that Mother found in our room. It was then lying with the wrappings and cord with which it came. She took them all down and must herself have put the wrappings on that little dark shelf near her linen chest. I recognised them one day by the colour of the cord, and I took them down, and lo, within, there was the little book. I have put it in its own secret place in the lock in the library. I am sure this will glad thine heart. Someday I trust thou wilt be able to read the rest to me. Thou wilt indeed be the grand lady now;—to think of thee living in a great castle with a real Duke! May God be with thee.

    “From Audry Mowbray.”

After Aline had read the letter they told Walter the true state of affairs and how he had happened to come on the only festal day that they had had.

It was arranged that Walter and Wilfred should put up for the night. There certainly was ample room for the horses in the empty stables. The Duchess was tired and went to bed early and was soon followed by Shiona, so that Ian and Aline were left by themselves.

They sat quietly for a long time, Ian gazing silently at Aline, idly sketching her shifting poses on the easel that happened to be standing near; but he was not conscious of what he was doing; his thoughts were far away as they wandered over the strange circumstances of his career. Aline was more like her mother than ever, although still more surpassingly beautiful. He was quite sure about it now. It was undoubtedly Aline’s mother that he had loved with that wild boy-love when he was but thirteen, and now Aline would soon be a woman herself! “Who was there,” he wondered, “who376 would be worthy of such a treasure? In any case it could not be very long now before some one claimed her. His own mother was married at fifteen, so was the Lady Jane Grey, whom Aline in some ways resembled.” He sighed sadly.

“Are you not happy, Ian? I am so happy to-night,” said Aline, and came across and kissed him and then nestled at his feet after her favourite manner.

“Not altogether,” he said.

“Tell me what it is.”

“Not to-night, heartsease,” he answered, bending down and kissing the fragrant hair. “Some day, perhaps, I will.”

For a time the room was very still. Suddenly a thought occurred to Ian. “I have just remembered something,” he said; “I will get it.”

The rush of events had crowded the little pouch and its contents out of his mind, but his present mood reminded him of it.

He brought the amulet from its hiding place. Aline was still seated on the floor. He sat down on the floor also, a little behind her, and lifted one of the lovely hands. “I have something else that I meant to give you before,” he said, holding up the bracelet.

The strange blue stones shone in the firelight as if they themselves were on fire. “‘Weal where I come as a gift of love,’” he read. “Pray God it may be so, heart of mine.”

Aline leaned back and lay with her head on his lap, looking up at him as he told the story.

“There are no scars on the beautiful hands now,” he said softly.

377

She half drew the hand away and then stopped and it lay passively in his hold as he lovingly fastened the bracelet round the perfect wrist.

She did not thank him; she did not speak; she only lay there quietly looking into his eyes.

A log slipped from the fire; it did not make much noise, but the sound echoed through the deserted rooms. How absolutely alone together they were!

Somehow the bracelet seemed to have a special significance: perhaps she might be held after all. A feeling of peace, almost of happiness, stole over him.

“You are good to me,” she said at last. “Yes, I am happy.”