"My lady, he dined with Father Sacy alone."
"And pray what did they eat for dinner?"
"There was a sucking pig roasted with juniper wood and rosemary branches, and a jugged hare, and a pullet, and some clotted cream and a raspberry tart. All very good, my lady; will you please to eat something?"
"Yes. I will have some jugged hare, and some clotted cream, and a raspberry tart—and a glass of Spanish wine, Delia, and a pitcher of new milk. Have them served as soon as possible."
"In what room, my lady?"
"In what room is the Earl, my father, now sitting?"
"In the morning room."
"Then serve it in the morning room."
She took one comfortable glance at herself, and in the pleasure of its assurance went down-stairs. Her step was now firm and rapid, yet she paused a moment at the door of the room she wished to enter, and called up smiles to her face and a sort of cheerful bravado to her manner ere she lifted the steel hasp that admitted her. In a moment her quick eyes took a survey of its occupants. They were only two men—Earl de Wick, and his chaplain, Father Sacy. Both were reading; the Earl, Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia; the Chaplain, the Evening Service in the Book of Common Prayer. Neither of them noticed her entrance, and she went straight to her father's side, and covering the open page with her hand, said in a merry tone—
"Here is a noble knight dwelling in Arcadia, while the great Captain-General Cromwell——"