“It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, good Cuthbert.” “Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you are, wed or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live nameless, like the Poticary’s serving-woman,” concluded Ridley as his parting grumble. CHAPTER XXX THE WEDDING CHIMES Low at times and loud at times, Changing like a poet’s rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes, From the belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges. LONGFELLOW, _The Carillon_. NO more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was absent with the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune and Liège, the romantic version of which may be read in _Quentin Durward_, and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it seemed to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing. The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back and the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her Grisell at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert Ridley and Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette to exchange any greetings. She knelt to kiss the Duchess’s hand, and as she did so Margaret raised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, “I greet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letter from my brother, King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count Palatine, to put you in possession of thy castle and lands, whoever may gainsay it.” That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisell was conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave the letter; but there was more to come, and Margaret continued— “Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give this parchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing his full and free pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, and his restoration to all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady of Whitburn. It was you, his true wife, who won it for him. It is you who should give it to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard.” He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had been to kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at the Duchess’s feet in thanks. “To her, to her,” said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he turned, spoke, trying to clear her voice from a rising sob. “Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken all. I am well advised that the wedlock into which you were forced against your will was of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will were contracted to the Lady Eleanor Audley.”