There he had the good fortune to find Prue in a gracious mood, and willing to make up for her previous neglect by dancing with him and allowing him to linger at her side until the ball came to an end. Then he had the felicity of shawling her and handing her into her carriage, where she bade him good morrow and permitted him to press a kiss upon Robin’s pearl-embroidered gloves. *CHAPTER XVII* *LADY BARBARA’S NEWS* The sun was flushing the horizon when Prue and Peggie left off comparing notes about the ball and laid their weary heads on their respective pillows. Peggie, light of heart and easy of conscience, was very soon asleep, but Prue was less fortunate. The more tightly she closed her eyes, the more distinctly she saw everything that had happened to her since yester morning’s sun had looked coldly upon her grief and remorse. Could it be only yesterday that she had been awakened by the hideous thought that her _husband_ was expiating his crimes upon the gallows? Only yesterday that she had bemoaned herself as the wickedest and crudest of women, while she believed him dead: yet was ready to reproach him with perfidy when she saw him alive? Oh! it was impossible that only yesterday morning she had scorned herself for the folly that bound her to a malefactor. Why, last night she had treated him as an equal, had taken his word as a gentleman, had felt and acknowledged anxiety for his safety, and had permitted him to kiss her hands; not out of pity as when she married him, but just as if he had been of the same social flesh-and-blood as herself. She vainly reminded herself that this Robin was the same who had waylaid her on Bleakmoor; the same who had lain in Newgate Prison, a felon condemned to the gallows; the same she had married because he was doomed to death, and for no other reason; oh! more the shame to her! As to him, his part in that ignoble contract was blameless and even generous. With which thought last in her mind, she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, Peggie stood at her bedside, smiling over an armful of roses. "Guess what little bird sent these to you," she said. Prue started up eagerly. "Is he here?" Peggie shook her head. "What, did he go away without seeing me?" cried Prue, her face falling and her lip drooping like a grieved child. "No, he sent them by his lackey. You had better make haste to be up and dressed, in case he comes to be thanked." Prue jumped out of bed and began dressing in a great hurry. "How comes _he_ with a lackey, forsooth!" she said presently, feigning to cavil so that Peggie would go on talking. "Why, does not Sir Geoffrey always send his lackey with flowers for you—and grandmother?" laughed Peggie. "Sir Geoffrey!" cried Prue, starting away from the roses as though she had suddenly encountered their thorns. "Of course; who did you think had sent them?" inquired Peggie blandly.