Lord Rockhurst raised him, looked a second keenly at the young face; then laying his hand upon his shoulder, walked down with him toward the bench, where, still without speaking, he took seat. Shaking her head at her nephew, Mistress Rockhurst followed them at some distance. “Oh, sir,” cried Harry, impetuously, “’tis ten months and two days since I last beheld your countenance!” So saying, he was about to cast himself upon his father’s breast; when, with the faintest motion of the hand, Rockhurst restrained him. “And yet, didst show, even now, no undue haste to greet me. ’Tis the first time, Harry,” he proceeded in softer tones, “that thou hast failed to welcome me before the gates.… I had looked forward to that moment.” “And indeed, nevvy,” added Mistress Alicia, as she halted, panting, before him, “’twas not pretty acted. ‘Where’s Harry?’ says his lordship. And ’twas old Giles held the stirrup, which had been thy privilege, Harry, since thou wert five years old.” Blushes chased each other over the boy’s face. He could but stammer:— “Oh, sir … oh, father!” “Nay, no excuses!” bade the Lord Constable. His son’s cheek grew a darker crimson still. “The lady, sir,” he murmured, “the lady I wrote of—” Mistress Rockhurst snorted with increased indignation, but Lord Rockhurst was now smiling dreamily. “A lady! sayst thou?… Boy Harry and his lady! Nay, then, a petticoat is like charity and must needs cover a multitude of sins!” “Petticoats, indeed,” ejaculated under her voice the irate dame—“The hussy!” Lord Rockhurst had no thought to spare for his sister’s opinions just now. Holding Harry at arm’s length, he surveyed him with shining eyes. “Thou art grown a goodly lad. In faith, well-nigh a man!” He drew him into his embrace and held him close a second. Then, releasing him, fell back with a sigh of ease upon the bench; flung off his mantle and unbuckled his sword, both of which Harry respectfully received from his hand. The traveller sighed, took off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair with the gesture of contented weariness. “Another drop of cordial, my lord,” cried his sister, rising, all eager for service.