[23] The “lout” was the predecessor of the curtsey. Aline shook and looked terrified, to Mistress Mowbray’s joy, who was delighted at confusing her before the stranger. Master Cleveland felt his heart fill with enmity toward Mistress Mowbray. “I am sure that woman is a liar,” he said to himself, and he could hardly take his eyes off Aline all through the meal, except for an occasional glance at Audry, who also fascinated him not a little. “Well, I shall never think children uninteresting again,” he thought, “if ever they can look like that. ’Sdeath, I should like to see those two when they grow up, they will be fine women. That Gillespie girl is quite uncanny,--simply to look at her makes one feel a low born brute. Widow Pelham shall have a new cottage, by my halidame she shall; and Jock Mostyn shall have a pension. God in heaven, what a face, and what hands! I did not know there were such hands.” After dinner Mistress Mowbray went with her guest and Master Richard through the Hall and the gardens, and the children escaped. Cleveland saw Aline again for a moment. He was coming back from the garden and she nearly ran into him. “I cry you mercy, Master,” she said. “Then give me some Michaelmas daisies as a token of repentance,” he said laughing. There was a magnificent show of huge blooms along one of the quaint old paths, so she ran and gathered them and held them out. He took them from her hand with a ceremonious bow and put them in his bonnet. “My favour!” he said, “it is a pity there is no tourney, little lady. Mother of God,” he added to himself, “it’s time I turned over a new leaf.” At supper Mistress Mowbray said nothing to Aline, because her husband was present. He for his part saw that the child was looking unhappy, but had forgotten the remark at dinner, as Mistress Mowbray was always saying sharp things; so he tried to enliven her. “Thou hast never read to me again, little one, to-morrow thou must read something from one of those old books that thou hast found in the library.” Aline trembled; then Cousin Richard knew too, she thought. What should she do with herself? “Methinks I would as lief have some more Malory,” he went on, “and Audry would like that too, or mayhap ye would like to ride over to Stanhope with me, what think ye, the two of you?” Aline breathed again. Then perhaps he did not know after all. “I would fain go to Stanhope,” she said. “So would I,” said Audry, as both the children saw that it might put off the evil day with Mistress Mowbray. “It will be our last chance of a good ride before the winter, it may come any time now.” The next morning therefore, the three rode over the moors to Stanhope. It was a glorious day and Aline for a time forgot her troubles. The day following they had to go in to Middleton Market, so it was not till after rere-supper that Eleanor Mowbray took Aline apart and said,--“Come with me, I want to speak with you.” Aline’s heart sank.