What I now relate was told me by Marian some three days after. 'Twas on the night of the day on which Sir John had brought the stranger to Amhurste, and Marian was carding out my lady's tresses before her bedroom fire.
Quoth my lady, suddenly, "Nurse, didst thou see Lord Denbeigh ere he went?"
And Marian said that she had seen him.
"He hath a strange face, nurse."
"How 'strange,' my lady?"
"Why, it seems to me that each feature in it doth contradict the other. His brow is stern, and saith to his eyes, 'Ye shall not be gentle.' His eyes say to his nose, 'Spread not thy nostrils so proudly.' His nose commands his lips that they smile not; but, nurse, there was ne'er a sweeter smile on the lips o' a saint!"
Marian fell a-thinking, and pulled my lady's hair. My lady heeded it not, so Marian fell a-thinking yet more deeply.
"It is not a face that tells of a bad heart," continued my lady. "Rather it speaks of rebellion and misfortune. A sad story—a sad story."
"What is, my lady?" asked Marian; but my lady was far away, whither Marian could not follow.
"Nurse," she saith, presently, "that were a soul worth saving." Then got she suddenly to her feet, and turned and took her nurse's hands with hers. "It shall be saved," she saith, "God helping."