“And you would have us tell her, Lady?”
“It would be as well. Really, I cannot!”
The substratum was showing itself for a moment in the character of the Countess.
“Dulcie would do it better than I,” said Beatrice, “I am a bad hand at beating about the bush. I might do it too bluntly.”
“Then, Dulcie, do tell her!” pleaded the Countess.
“Very well, Lady.” But all Doucebelle’s unselfishness did not prevent her from feeling that she would almost rather have had any thing else to do.
She went back slowly to Margaret’s bower, tenanted at that moment by no one but its owner. Margaret looked up as Doucebelle entered, and read her face as easily as possible.
“Evil tidings!” she said, quietly enough. “For thee, or for me, Dulcie?”
Doucebelle came and knelt beside her.
“For me, then!” Margaret’s voice trembled a little. “Go on, Dulcie! Richard—”