“Nay, truly, Mistress Edith, I’ll do naught to anger thee; but, forsooth, what came upon yonder Lady Dacre was meet; that _thou_ shouldst go to succor her--thou, and no other; for, thou seest, she was mistress of all this land of her own right, and was a Dacre born, and wedded a kinsman--she could not help but wed him--it was none of her choosing, I trow, to wed a poor knight. And thy mother was of kin to them both--cousin-german to her, and a distant kinswoman to him also, which made it the greater sin. Ah, Mistress Edith! I do so well remember the sweet, white face that lay down on that pillow to die! and to think that they had shut the door on her, who were of her own blood!” Edith was thinking of all these things sadly; her own young mother, and yonder gentle Mary--and contrasting their dim lot with the flashes of youthful hope, the bright vistas of sunny life which now and then through these last painful months had opened to herself. Might these not be all illusions--shadows and mists destined only to condense into darker gloom? “Thou wouldst see yonder cavalier, I reckon, while thou wert in London?” said Dame Dutton, inquisitively. “Truly I did marvel within myself what the omen might be that ye were both journeying on one morrow--and they tell me he is a gracious youth, yonder Sir Philip, and hath a savor of godliness. He do begin to make the old house liker a dwelling for living folk, ’tis certain; for if spirits came back--I know not, Mistress Edith--the Word saith naught of whether they may--yonder dark rooms were most like a place for them; and he is a good master to his serving folk, and has a kind hand to the poor. How sayest thou of this gallant, sweetheart? thou hast marked him, I wot.” “Nay I know not, Dame Dutton,” said Edith, blushing. “He did well among the sick, and served them; but in sooth no man, methinks, could have held back when he saw their misery.” “Ay, ye have done wonderful, truly, for young folk,” said Dame Dutton, “a strange beginning I trow--but an it be to a good lot, Mistress Edith, never think more of the evil say I, for if it were ever so bad, it be past now, and should e’en be forgotten. But it glads me that thou dost like this gentleman--for all men speak kindly of him.” “Nay, Dame Dutton,” said Edith eagerly, “I said not I liked him, more than it be needful. I like all who serve the one Lord--and as he is my kinsman--” “Yea, sweatheart, did I trouble thee?” answered the Dame. “What didst think I meant, truly? and thou wouldst not _hate_ the gentleman sure--why shouldst thou?”