Agnes looked up, and saw the yearning, passionate hunger in the poor father's eyes. She saw nothing more for a minute.
"Sir," she said then, "if I do it not, be assured that it shall be only because I can no way compass it."
"God go with you!" was the reply.
Agnes hastened back to the room where she had left Lady Anne alone with Marion, and heard to her dismay the sharp tones of the Duchess as she came near the door.
"Heard any ever the like!" cried Her Royal Highness. "'An' it please me!' I do you plainly to wit, my dainty mistress, that it doth not please me. I will have thee come down and speak with Master Grey. And I will have thee don a better gown for it, belike.—Agnes Marston, go this minute and lay out the Lady Anne's gown of purple velvet.—And go thou and don it. Dost hear?"
Lady Anne said no more, but her whole face betrayed intense dislike to the task imposed upon her, when she caught the eye of Agnes. The language of the eye was well understood at that time, when the language of the lips was often dangerous. Lady Anne saw in an instant that Agnes knew of some reason why she had better leave the room, and she followed her without another word.
Meanwhile the Duke of Exeter stood below, waiting to know the result of his appeal. Could Agnes convey it at all? and if she did, would Anne come? Last and saddest question of all, if she came, would it be the child he knew, altered of course in person, but unchanged in heart? At last he could keep still no longer. Plantagenet blood was in his veins, and it was a habit of all the race, when suffering from mental excitement, to pace up and down like caged tigers. He had sufficient excuse in the cold of a February evening, and he yielded to the impulse, pausing at every sound to listen—till the door was flung open suddenly, and a tall, slight maiden, robed in violet velvet and decked with jewels, dashed into the room, and flung herself into his arms with a burst of passionate tears. Enough! Enough for the father's heart! His little Nan had come back to him.
When the first wave had broken, he lifted the young head with one hand, and looked long and tenderly on the beloved face. And at the first glance his heart sank down, lower than it had ever been.
Come, but not to stay. Bound on a longer journey than from England to France—than from earth to stars. He held his darling close clasped in his arms, but it was probably for the last time. Verily for her the Bridegroom waited, but the bridal was not of earth.
"Nan!" broke from the father's lips, in tones more eloquent than a volume would have been. "Little Nan!"