“Pardon, my Lady of Bonville and Harrington, I did indeed forget what reasons the dame of so wise and so renowned a lord hath to feel pride in the titles she hath won. But I see that my visit hath chanced out of season. My business, in truth, was rather with my lord, whose counsel in peace is as famous as his truncheon in war!”
“It is enough,” replied Katherine, with a dignity that rebuked the taunt, “that Lord Bonville has the name of an honest man,—who never rose at court.”
“Woman, without one soft woman-feeling!” muttered Hastings, between his ground teeth, as he approached the lady and made his profound obeisance. The words were intended only for Katherine’s ear, and they reached it. Her bosom swelled beneath the brocaded gorget, and when the door closed on Hastings, she pressed her hands convulsively together, and her dark eyes were raised upward.
“My child, thou art entangling thy skein,” said the lady of Bonville, as she passed one of the maidens, towards the casement, which she opened,—“the air to-day weighs heavily!”
CHAPTER VI. JOY FOR ADAM, AND HOPE FOR SIBYLL—AND POPULAR FRIAR BUNGEY!
Leaping on his palfrey, Hastings rode back to the Tower, dismounted at the gate, passed on to the little postern in the inner court, and paused not till he was in Warner’s room. “How now, friend Adam? Thou art idle.”
“Lord Hastings, I am ill.”
“And thy child not with thee?”
“She is gone to her grace the duchess, to pray her to grant me leave to go home, and waste no more life on making gold.”