“I was so but this moment, Madam,” replied Maude, turning round to meet the eyes of the Lady de Narbonne, now quiet and grave enough. “’Tis little marvel, for I loved her dear.”
“And love lasteth with thee—how long time?”
“Till death, assuredly,” said Maude. “What may lie beyond death I wis nothing.”
“Till what manner of death? The resurrection, men say, shall give back the dead. But what shall give back a dead heart or a lost soul? Can thy love pass such death as this, Maude Gerard?”
“Madam, I said never unto your Ladyship that Hawise Gerard was kinswoman of mine. How wit you the same?”
A faint, soft smile, very unlike her usual one, so bright and cold, flickered for a moment on the lips of the Lady de Narbonne.
“Not too far gone for that, Cousin Maude,” she said.
“‘Cousin’—Madam! You are—”
“I am Avice de Narbonne, waiting-dame unto my Lady of Buckingham’s Grace. I was Hawise Gerard, David Gerard’s daughter.”
“Hawise! Thou toldest me she was dead!” cried Maude confusedly.