"I cannot speak of that," said his father; and his son sneered visibly; "you and I are but laymen; but this I know, and have a right to say, that to threaten me like that is the act of a--is not worthy of my son. My dear boy," he said, coming nearer, "you are angry; and, God forgive me! so am I; but I promised your mother," and again he broke off, "and we cannot go on with this now. Come again this evening." Hubert stood turned away, with his head against the high oak mantelpiece; and there was silence. "Father," he said at last, turning round, "I ask your pardon." Sir Nicholas stepped nearer, his eyes suddenly bright with tears, and his mouth twitching, and held out his hand, which Hubert took. "And I was a coward to speak like that--but, but--I will try," went on the boy. "And I promise to say nothing to her yet, at any rate. Will that do? And I will go away for a while." The father threw his arms round him. As the summer drew on and began to fill the gardens and meadows with wealth, the little Italian garden to the south-west of the Hall was where my lady spent most of the day. Here she would cause chairs to be brought out for Mistress Margaret and herself, and a small selection of devotional books, an orange leather volume powdered all over with pierced hearts, filled with extracts in a clear brown ink, another book called _Le Chappellet de Jésus_, while from her girdle beside her pocket-mirror there always hung an olive-coloured "Hours of the Blessed Virgin," fastened by a long strip of leather prolonged from the binding. Here the two old sisters would sit, in the shadow of the yew hedge, taking it by turns to read and embroider, or talking a little now and then in quiet voices, with long silences broken only by 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."