Silence for a space.
"It seems," said the young knight then, smiling, "that I have been victim of every madcap prank and conspiracy in all Scotland. What quip was this of Isabel's?"
"I should not have known, sire——"
"Richard," the young knight corrected her gently.
"Thou saidst but once ... Richard," she whispered, smiling. "I should not have known, I say, had it not been for the piece of cloth snipped out of my robe. I was sleeping when she sent it through the wall."
"And the note—said she something of a note, Rocelia?" Sir Richard asked.
"No, nothing, sire."
"Then here it is," said he, diving into the leathern pouch hanging at his baldric and laying the scrap of paper before Rocelia upon the table top. The while she was reading it Sir Richard got him out the cutting of velvet.
"And here is the other," he said, laying the crumpled bit of cloth beside the note, which by now Rocelia had finished reading. "This may go to feed the blaze," he added with a light laugh, tossing the note into the fire. "The other ... may I have it now from thy dear hand? I would renew my knightly vows."
"But thou art now a king ... and may not," she gave Sir Richard answer, he thought in a tone and manner of sadness and regret. Suddenly she took it up then and thrust it quickly within the lace at her bosom.