He roused himself when the first words of a psalm were sung by the village choir in Sternhold and Hopkins' version, and bending over the book, which his sister Mary had opened, pointing her finger to the first line, he raised his musical voice and sang with her the rugged lines which called upon 'All people that on earth do dwell, to sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.' Then the clergyman pronounced the blessing, and the congregation dispersed, the village people to their homes, the Sidneys towards the gate leading into the pleasance, which lay on the side of the house nearest to the church. Mary Gifford held back, in spite of Lucy's entreaties to her to go forward. 'They will all have passed in, Mary,' she exclaimed in an agony of excitement. 'Were we not bidden to see the Countess by Mr Sidney himself.' But Mary was always modest and retiring, and she stood with Ambrose and her sister awaiting a summons. It came at last. Humphrey Ratcliffe was at her side, saying,-- 'My Lady of Pembroke would fain speak with Lucy. Come forward with me.' As they followed Humphrey through the gateway in the wall, Lucy could scarcely conceal her agitation. What should she say? What if Lady Pembroke thought her too young and too ignorant? She had pictured to herself that Mr Sidney would himself have led her to his sister, but he was gone out of sight, and she heard one of the gentlemen say to Humphrey,-- 'Sir Fulke Greville has arrived with a message from the Queen. Mr Sidney has gone round to meet him.' 'Ill news, I wonder?' Humphrey said. 'Nay, only some trifle about the tourney, belike a change in the colour of the armour, or some such folly.' Mary and her little son and Lucy were now standing at the end of the terrace walk of smooth turf, which is raised some feet above the wide pleasance below. 'Await the Countess's pleasure here,' Humphrey said. 'She is engaged in talk with Lady Mary, she will send to summon you when she sees fit.' The ladies and gentlemen in attendance on Lady Mary Sidney and her daughter were threading the narrow paths of the pleasance and chatting gaily with each other, the bright dresses of the ladies, rivalling the colour of the spring flowers in the beds, while the jewelled hilts of the gentlemen's swords sparkled in the sunshine. From the trees in the Park came the monotonous note of the unseen cuckoo, while the thrushes and blackbirds every now and then sent forth a burst of song, though it was nearly nigh noontide, when the birds are often silent, as if, in the general rejoicing of the spring, all living things must take part. The picturesque side of the home of the Sidneys, which faces this pleasance, was in shadow, and made a background to the gay scene, which accentuated the brilliant effect of the gay throng below it.