'Nay, Madam,' Lucy said, with kindling eyes. 'I crave pardon; but the unattainable may yet be a reality. Because the sun is set on high in the heavens, it is yet our own when warmed by its beams and brightened by its shining. True, many share in this, but yet it is--we cannot help it--ours by possession when we feel its influence. Methinks,' the girl said, her face shining with a strange light--'methinks I would sooner worship--ay, and love--the unattainable, if pure, noble and good, than have part and lot with the attainable that did not fulfil my dream of all that a true knight and noble gentleman should be.' Lady Pembroke drew Lucy towards her, and, looking into her face, said,-- 'May God direct you aright, dear child! You have done me and mine good service, and the day, when it comes, that I lose you will be no day of rejoicing for me. When first you entered my household I looked on you as a gay and thoughtless maiden, and felt somewhat fearful how you would bear yourself in the midst of temptations, which, strive as we may, must beset those who form the household of a nobleman like the Earl, my husband. He makes wise choice, as far as may be, of the gentlemen attached to his service; but there is ever some black sheep in a large flock, and discretion is needed by the gentlewomen who come into daily intercourse with them. You have shown that discretion, Lucy, and it makes me happy to think that you have learned much that will be of use to you in the life which lies before you.' 'Dear Madam,' Lucy said, 'I owe you everything--more than tongue can tell; and as long as you are fain to keep me near you, I am proud to stay.' 'I feel a strange calm and peace to-day,' Lady Pembroke said, as she leaned out of the casement and looked down on the scene familiar to her from childhood. 'It is the peace of the autumn,' she said; 'and I am able to think of my father--my noble father and dear mother at rest in Paradise--gathered in like sheaves of ripe corn into the garner--meeting Ambrosia and the other younger children, whom they surrendered to God with tears, but not without hope. I am full of confidence that Philip will win fresh laurels, and I only grieve that the parents, who would have rejoiced at his success, will never know how nobly he has borne himself in this war. There will be news soon, and good Sir Francis Walsingham is sure to send it hither post haste. Till it comes, let us be patient.' It was the afternoon of the following day that Lucy Forrester crossed the Medway by the stepping-stones, and went up the hill to Ford Manor. It was her custom to do so whenever Lady Pembroke was at Penshurst. Her stepmother was greatly softened by time, and subdued by the yoke which her Puritan husband, who was now lord and master of the house and all in it, had laid upon her. As Lucy turned into the lane, she met Ned coming along with a calf, which he was leading by a strong rope, to the slaughter-house in the village.