Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permitted to remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As she freshly trimmed and broidered Leonard’s surcoat and sword-belt, she heard one of the many gossips who delighted to recount the members of the English suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds and pursuivants who had to marshal the procession and order the banquet. “Fair ladies too,” he said, “from England. There is the Lord Audley’s daughter with her father. They say she is the very pearl of beauties. We shall see whether our fair dames do not surpass her.” “The Lord Audley’s daughter did you say?” asked Grisell. “His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, per pale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, for Heringham. She is one of the Duchess Margaret’s dames-of-honour.” To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness on the other. CHAPTER XXVIII THE PAGEANT When I may read of tilts in days of old, And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown, Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold— If fancy would pourtray some stately town, Which for such pomp fit theatre would be, Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee. SOUTHEY, _Pilgrimage to Waterloo_. LEONARD COPELAND was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not give a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that there was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, and here the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony took place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des Princes, leaving to the bride all the splendour of the entrance. The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. The Grey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the presenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with great pleasure Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert’s lovely white Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried by the youngest novice, a fair white rosebud herself. Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and silver thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the final touches began with the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. To Grisell’s great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. “Ah! my ladybird,” said he, “in good health as ever.”