"No doubt they are gone thither to plunder the loyal folk of their arms, even as they did by me," said Lady Sybil. "Indeed, our going hence is timed not an hour too soon."
Then she dismissed Roger. She bade him keep a sharp watch, and meantime to tell the other servants that she was not to be disturbed. Against the long journey on the morrow, she and her young goddaughter would rest that afternoon in her chamber.
But it was anything but rest that Lady Sybil and Merrylips were to have that day. As soon as Roger had gone, Lady Sybil bolted the door, and closed the shutters, as if she wished to keep the light from the eyes of a sleeper. Then she pressed a spring in a panel of the wainscot, near the chimneypiece. Behold! the panel swung open like a door, and Merrylips looked into the secret chamber of Larkland, of which she had so often heard.
Out from the dingy little recess Lady Sybil brought caskets and coffers of odd shapes and sizes. Some were of leather. Some were wrought of metal. All these she opened, in the rays of dusty sunlight that came through the heart-shaped openings, high up in the shutters, and at sight of what they held, Merrylips cried out softly. She thought that all the jewels in the world must be gathered in that room. She looked on blood-red rubies, and great emeralds, and fire-bright topazes, and milky pearls, and flawless diamonds, and all were set in a richness of chased silver and fine gold.
"Oh, surely," breathed Merrylips, "with such wealth to aid him, our king will soon put down his enemies!"
At first she scarcely dared to touch the precious things, but soon she found herself handling them as if they were no more than bits of colored glass. For it was her part to help Lady Sybil sew the jewels into the lining of the gowns and cloaks that they should wear upon the journey. Mighty proud Merrylips was that such a trust was placed in her, and glad, too, that she had learned to use a needle, so that she might be of service in such a need!
Hour after hour Merrylips sat at Lady Sybil's feet, in the darkened chamber, where the air was heavy with heat, and stitched and stitched. While the busy moments passed, the sunlight faded from the room. There came a rumbling of thunder in the sultry air, and then the beating of rain upon the roof.
It must be the thunder, thought Merrylips, that made her head ache. So languid did she feel that she was glad to lay her head against her godmother's knee. Thus she rested, and listened to the plash of rain, while through her half-closed eyelids she watched her godmother, with deft, white fingers, sew the last necklace into the bodice of her gown.
For a moment Merrylips must have dozed, but all at once she was awake again. She saw that her godmother had paused in her sewing, and wonderingly, she looked upon her. Then she saw that Lady Sybil sat with her eyes upon a ring that she had taken from the casket beside her—a ring wrought of dull old silver, in the shape of two hearts entwined.
"I've seen that ring ere now," said Merrylips, drowsily. "Godmother, when did I see that ring?"