Young Rockhurst stamped his foot; but Diana (not displeased, perhaps, at the interruption) glanced calmly up. “Here I am, Cousin Lionel—and here, as you can see, is Harry.” Ratcliffe leant across the balustrade, wiping his face as though heated. “Oh, how I have sought for you!” he called. “So it seems,” retorted she, ironically, “with apparently never a thought to cast a glance over the wall.” He grinned. She was the dearer to him for her sharp wits, and for a tongue that was even a match for his own. But what answer he would have made was lost in a new interruption: the sound of a postboy’s horn rose swelling through the quiet airs, and almost immediately the bell clanged from the castle’s gate. Then came calls, shouts, and rumours. Ratcliffe straightened himself from his leaning posture:— “What have we here?” he cried. “Ha—Mistress Alicia!” A stout, elderly lady appeared at the head of the terrace steps. “Pardon me, madam, a moment,” said Harry to Diana, and ran to meet his aunt. The lady was beckoning with great energy:— “News, lad, news from your noble father, from my dear brother!” She turned on the second step and raised her voice (never a soft one) in vigorous expostulation to some hidden person: “Hither, fellow, hither, thou laggard, and commend thee for a lazy loon!” Stirred by these expostulations the postboy, covered with dust and sweat, emerged upon the terrace above at a limping run. Harry bounded up the steps to snatch a letter from his hands. He broke the seal and gave a cry of joy:— “These are news indeed! My father will be with us to-night, nay, toward the fifth hour afternoon, so he writes.—Rascal, you have tarried indeed!—In good truth, these are news!” His joyful exclamations were lost in a deep outburst of lamentation from Mistress Rockhurst. “To-day!” quoth she, clapping her palms together. “Murrain take me, if these be not the ways of men! Gilian! Basil!—get thee to the buttery, knave!—Robin! … Robin! the flag!” But the excellent housewife was not of those who waste their energies upon mere speech. As hastily as her bulk would permit, she was already hying her way back toward the castle. And the clamour of her voice was lost behind the yew hedges. Harry bent over the parapet, calling to Diana, who stood pensively where he had left her. “Give me joy, madam; my father will be here instantly!” Ratcliffe brushed past him and came down the steps toward his kinswoman. He laid a hand upon her arm, and looking toward his host:— “Then,” cried he, “shall we leave you to your filial transport.” He dropped his voice, to continue maliciously, in the young widow’s ear: “Di, what says’t thou? Shall we not ride instantly? Gad, were it but a meeting ’twixt lover and mistress ’twere something to wait for—but this business! ‘My worthy father.… My beloved son!’ ’Twas ever a feast of cold veal, since the days of the prodigal—Though faith,” he laughed, “’tis the father, here, comes from the husks to seek the calf at home!”