But answer came soon enough to his cautious knock to ease his mind and justify Master Raleigh in his prediction: and there in the doorway stood a capacious dame, who seemed to regard him with curiosity before she spoke. ‘How now, young man?’ she said at last, in a voice half stifled behind walls of fat. ‘What is your business here, an it please you?’ Her eyes were moist and lushy; her face was like a great red ham, with the little ruff about her neck for a frill to it; she leaned on a gold-knobbed cane, and for support, for she was corpulent and rheumatic. ‘What all business wishes--to speedwell,’ answered the youth, feeling, despite himself, a little shame in this masquerading. She put a finger to her lips instantly, and, nodding and leering, made way for him to enter, and closed the door behind him. ‘Leave your lantern there,’ she whispered, and, waddling heavily before, with a little sighing groan or two, led him down a panelled passage into a room that opened from it, and, bidding him wait there till her return, shut him in and disappeared. He heard her going painfully and complainingly up the flight of stairs he had observed before him on entering, and waited glowingly for the abounding vision which was to signalize her return. The room in which he found himself was bare and empty, but bore traces of some honoured occupation in the past history of the house. Its walls, though streaked and faded, had once been gilt, and on them rods for tapestry still rusted in their sockets. There was a noble carved stone fireplace, with a great hood roofing it, and dogs upon the hearth; but only a brazier burned there now, as if for the makeshift accommodation of some casual watcher. That and the single chair set before it, the only article of furniture in the place, saving a couple of tapers that flared in sconces on the wall, seemed to point to a vigil just kept in expectation of this particular visit. But kept by whom? Obviously by her who had answered to his knock, and who had been stationed here for that very purpose. The thought thrilled him through and through. For that very purpose! So, she had provided for the meeting as anxiously, with as great an excitement of expectation, as he had felt in speeding to it. And almost with the thought he heard her coming. There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. ‘Joan!’ he breathed from his bursting heart--and the door on the moment opened, and she entered. She came in on the arm of her governante, the blown breathless old lady with the stick. She gave one bashful glance towards the stranger, then looked aside, with a little mincing shrug and wriggle of her shoulders. There was a pause, quite painful in its intensity. And then Brion opened his mouth and gasped out an inquiry:-- ‘Mistress Joan Medley?’