Lady Basset bowed gravely in reply to Godfrey's courtesy, broke the seal of the letter, and gazed upon the cabalistic characters therein written. Had they been Chinese, she would have learned as much from them as she did. She handed back the letter with a request that he would read it to her, if he possessed the art of reading; if not, she would send for Father Collard. For a moment, but no more, the temptation visited Godfrey to read the letter as something which it was not. He dismissed it, not from any conscientious motive, but simply from the doubt whether he could keep up the delusion. "Good!" said Lady Basset, when the letter had been read to her; "and now what is that you are to tell me?" "Dame, suffer me first to say that it is of the gravest moment that there be no eavesdroppers about, and that your Ladyship be pleased to keep strait silence thereupon. Otherwise, I dare not utter that wherewith his Grace's letter hath ado." "There be no ears at hand save my bower-woman's, and I will answer for her as for myself. I can keep silence when need is. Speak on." "Then, Lady, I give you to know that the Duchess' Grace, your mother, is now in ward under keeping of my father, at Hazelwood Manor, and--" Lady Basset had risen to her feet, with a strange glow in her eyes. "My mother!" she said. "Your Lady and mother, Dame; and she--" "My mother!" she said, again. "My mother! I thought my mother was dead and buried, years and years ago!" "Verily, no, Lady; and my Lord Archbishop's Grace doth most earnestly desire your Ladyship to pay her visit, she being now near death, and your Lord and brother the Duke denying to come unto her." The glow deepened in the dark eyes. "My Lord my brother refused to go to my mother?" "He did so, Dame." "And she is near death?" "Very near, I am told, Lady." "And he wist it?" "He wist it." Lady Basset seemed for a moment to have forgotten everything but the one. "Lead on," she said. "I will go to her--poor Mother! I can scarce remember her; I was so young when taken from her. But I think she loved me once. I will go, though no other soul on earth keep me company." "Lady," said Godfrey, saying the exact reverse of truth, "I do right heartily trust your Lord shall not let you therein." "What matter?" she said. "If the Devil and all his angels stood in the way, I would go to my dying mother." She left the room for a minute, and to Godfrey's dismay came back attired for her journey, as if she meant to set out there and then. "But, Lady!" he expostulated. "You need not tarry for me," she said, calmly. "I can find the way, and I have sent word to bid mine horses." This was unendurable. Godfrey, in his dismay, left the room with only a courtesy, and sought Lord Basset in the hall.