“My gracious Lord deigns to receive the said silver penny in lieu of the shoe, and lovingly prays your Lord and Lady to enter his said Castle.”
Then the portcullis was drawn up, and the long train filed noisily into the courtyard. This ceremony was observed on the first visit of every peer to Oakham Castle; but the visitor was allowed, if he chose, as in this instance, to redeem the horse-shoe by the payment of money to buy one. The shoes contributed by eminent persons were not unfrequently gilded.
The modest train of Sir Gilbert and Clarice crept quietly in at the end of the royal suite. As he was only a knight, his horse-shoe was not in request Sir Gilbert told the warder in a few words his name and errand, whereupon that functionary summoned a boy, and desired him to conduct the knight and maiden to Mistress Underdone. Having alighted from the horse, Clarice shook down her riding-gown, and humbly followed Sir Gilbert and the guide into the great hall, which was built like a church, with centre and aisles, up a spiral staircase at one end of it, and into a small room hung with green say (Note 3). Here they had to wait a while, for every one was too busily employed in the reception of the royal guests to pay attention to such comparatively mean people. At last—when Sir Gilbert had yawned a dozen times, and strummed upon the table about as many, a door at the back of the room was opened, and a portly, comfortable-looking woman came forward to meet them. Was this the Countess? thought Clarice, with her heart fluttering. It was extremely unlike her ideal picture.
“Your servant, Sir Gilbert Le Theyn,” said the newcomer, in a cheerful, kindly voice. “I am Agatha Underdone, Mistress of the Maids unto my gracious Lady of Cornwall. I bid thee welcome, Clarice—I think that is thy name?”
Clarice acknowledged her name, with a private comforting conviction that Mistress Underdone, at least, would be pleasant enough to live with.
“You will wish, without doubt, to go down to hall, where is good company at this present,” pursued the latter, addressing Sir Gilbert. “So, if it please you to take leave of the maiden—”
Sir Gilbert put two fingers on Clarice’s head, as she immediately knelt before him. For a father to kiss a daughter was a rare thing at that time, and for the daughter to offer it would have been thought quite disrespectful, and much too familiar.
“Farewell, Clarice,” said he. “Be a good maid, be obedient and meek; please thy lady; and may God keep thee, and send thee an husband in good time.”
There was nothing more necessary in Sir Gilbert’s eyes. Obedience was the one virtue for Clarice to cultivate, and a husband (quality immaterial) was sufficient reward for any amount of virtue.
Clarice saw her father depart without any feeling of regret. He was even a greater stranger to her