It was no wonder that Cicely had not known him, for some seconds elapsed before Dame Lovell herself could recognise Lord Marnell. Six years had passed since they met at his marriage to Margery, but he looked at least twenty years older. His figure was still upright, though much thinner, but the very form of his features seemed changed, and his rich auburn hair was now white as drifted snow. His manner, which had been blunt and almost boisterous, was remarkably quiet. When he saw that Dame Lovell did not recognise him, he said, with a smile—
“You know me not, fair mother?”
Dame Lovell’s astonishment overcame her enmity for the moment.
“Troth, I knew thee not, good son! is it truly thou? Nay, how changed art thou!”
“I wis that well,” he answered. “Where is Geoffrey?”
“I trow he be in the garden with Richard,” replied Dame Lovell. “I will bid him hither.”
Little Geoffrey, holding Richard’s hand, as if he would not part with him for a moment, returned to the house at his grandmother’s bidding; but like her, he could not recognise his father, whom he had not seen for some months, until Lord Marnell’s well-known voice assured him of his identity. He rather shrank from him, as usual; but when Lord Marnell contrary to his custom, lifted him up and kissed him, he seemed a little reassured, and sat on his father’s knee, staring at him intently. Lord Marnell gave a cordial greeting to Richard, and then, observing how earnestly his little son’s eyes were fixed upon him, asked him at what he was looking.
“What have you done with your hair?” was Master Geoffrey’s puzzled answer.
Lord Marnell laughed, and told the child that everybody’s hair turned white as they grew old.
“But your Lordship’s hath done so quickly,” remarked Richard.