"But pray you, kiss me first," she said. "For it may be, presently, you will not have so much love to give unto me."
"Thou silly child!" whispered Lady Sybil, and kissed her, and went her way.
Merrylips knew that she was silly. But she was very tired, now that the day was ended, and she could not help having sad thoughts. As she lay alone in the quiet chamber, she pictured how Lady Sybil, at that very moment, was opening her arms to a child that was blood-kin to her. Her heart grew heavy. How did she know that Rupert would not take her place in Lady Sybil's love?
In that foolish fear Merrylips had fallen asleep. When she woke, it was dark, but she found herself clasped tight in two arms, and she heard Lady Sybil speak:—
"And thou couldst think I had not love enough for two—oh! thou little silly one! Merrylips! Little true heart, that didst believe in my poor lad, even when I myself distrusted him! Oh, child, how can I ever love thee enough—thou, through whom, under God, my dead sister's son hath this hour been given unto me!"
CHAPTER XXXV
THE PASSING OF TIBBOTT VENNER
When Merrylips woke next morning, she thought at first that she was back at Monksfield. She could hear the sounds that she loved—the clatter of horses ridden over flagged pavements, and the note of a trumpet that bade the men dismount and unsaddle. Then she guessed that Captain Norris and his troop had come to Walsover, as Lieutenant Crashaw had said they would.
She was all eagerness to see her old friends. So she sprang up and started to dress. But when she looked for her shirt and her blue breeches, they were not on the form where she had laid them. In their place was a girl's long smock and a little gown of gray that Pug had outgrown.
She was sitting on her bed, looking at the gray gown and winking fast, when Lady Sybil came softly into the chamber. Lady Sybil understood. She did not ask questions, nor did she pretend that this was a slight thing that Merrylips must do.