When, in the general greeting, Alice had been sought out by a tall, dark- browed, grizzled warrior, Esclairmonde had, cruelly, as the maiden thought, kept her station behind the Countess, and never stirred for all those wistful backward glances, but left her alone to drop on her knee to seek the blessing of the mighty old soldier. And now she was holding his great hand, almost as tough as his gauntlets, and leading him up to her friend, while he louted low, and spoke with a grand fatherly courtesy: 'Fair demoiselle, this silly wench of mine tells me that you have been good friend to her, and I thank you for the same with all mine heart.' 'Silly' was a fond term of love then, and had all the affection of a proud father in it, as the Earl of Salisbury patted the small soft fingers in his grasp. 'Truly, my lord,' responded Esclairmonde, 'the Lady Alice hath been my sweetest companion, friend, and sister, for these many months.' 'Nay, child, art worthy to be called friend by such a lady as this? If so, I shall deem my little Alice grown a woman indeed, as it is time she were--Diccon Nevil is bent on the wedding before we go to the wars again.' Alice coloured like a damask rose, and hid her face behind her friend. 'Hast seen him, sweet?' asked Esclairmonde, when Salisbury had been called away. 'Is he here?' 'Yes; out there--he with the white bull on his surcoat,' said Alice, dreading to look that way. 'And hast spoken with him?' asked the lady next, feeling as if the stout, commonplace, hardy-looking soldier she saw was scarce what she would have chosen for her little wild rose of an Alice, comely and brave though he were. 'He hath kissed mine hand,' faltered Alice, but it was quite credible that not a word had passed. The marriage was a business contract between the houses of Wark and Raby, and a grand speculation for Sir Richard Nevil, that was all; but gentle Alice had no reluctance beyond mere maidenly shyness, and unwillingness to enter on an unknown future under a new lord. She even whispered to her dear Clairette that she was glad Sir Richard never tormented her by talking to her, and that he was grave, and so old. 'So old? why, little one, he can scarce be seven-and-twenty!' 'And is not that old? oh, so old!' said Alice. 'Able to take care of me. I would not have a youth like that young Lord of Glenuskie. Oh no--never!' 'That is well,' said Esclairmonde, smiling; 'but wherefore put such disdain in thy voice, Alice? He used to be our playfellow, and he hath grown older and more manly in this year.' 'His boyhood was better than such manhood,' said Alice; 'he was more to my taste when he was meek, than now that he seems to say, "I would be saucy if I durst." And he hath not the stuff to dare any way.' 'Fie! fie! Alice, you are growing slanderous.' 'Nay, now, Clairette, own verily--you feel the like!'