"There is no one to call me Belasez now!" Bruno clasped her closer. "My darling!" he said, "so long as the Lord spares us to each other, thou wilt always be _belle assez_ for me!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. She was the young widow of William, Earl of Pembroke, the eldest brother of the husband of Marjory of Scotland. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AT LAST. "Joy for the freed one! She might not stay When the crown had fallen from her life away: She might not linger, a weary thing, A dove with no home for its broken wing, Thrown on the harshness of alien skies, That know not its own land's melodies. From the long heart-withering early gone, She hath lived--she hath loved--her task is done!" _Felicia Hemans_. "Now, Sir John de Averenches, what on earth dost _thou_ want?" "Is there no room, Damsel?" "Room! There is room enough for thee, I dare say," replied Eva, rather contemptuously. She looked down on Sir John supremely for four reasons, which in her own eyes at least were excellent ones. First, he was rather short; secondly, he was very silent; thirdly, he was not particularly handsome; and lastly (and of most import), he had remained proof against all Eva's attractions. "I thank thee," was all he said now; and he walked into Margaret's bower, where he took a seat on the extreme end of the settle, and never said a word to any body whilst he stayed. "The absurd creature!" exclaimed Eva, when he was gone. "What an absolute ass he is! He has not an idea in his head." "Oh, I beg thy pardon, Eva," interposed Marie, rather warmly. "He's plenty of ideas. He'll talk if one talks to him. Thou never dost." "He is clever enough to please thee, very likely!" was the rather snappish answer. From that evening, Sir John de Averenches took to frequenting the bower occasionally, much to the annoyance of Eva, until the happy thought struck her that she might have captivated him at last. Mentally binding him to her chariot wheels, she made no further objection, but on the contrary, became so amiable that the shrewd little Marie noticed the alteration. "Well, Eva is queer!" said that acute young lady. "She goes into the sulks if Sir William de Cantilupe so much as looks at any body; but she does not care how many people she looks at! I think she should be jealous on both sides!" Eva's amenities, however, seemed to have no more effect on Sir John than her displeasure. Night after night, there he sat, never speaking to any one, and apparently not noticing one more than another. "He's going out of his mind," suggested Marie. "Not he!" said Eva. "He's none to go out of!" The mystery was left unsolved, except by Bruno, who fancied that he guessed its meaning; but since the clue was one which he preferred not to pursue, he discreetly left matters to shape themselves, or rather, to be shaped by Providence, when the time should come.