'I have been desiring to speak with you,' Lady Pembroke said; 'I would fain know if aught has been heard of Mistress Gifford.'
'Nay, Madam, not of late. She was in good health of body last summer, though sore at heart; so my brother said.'
'No trace of her boy yet, I grieve to hear,' Lady Pembroke exclaimed. 'If he is to be tracked out, your good brother will do it. You do not follow Sir Philip to the Netherlands, I think.'
'Nay, Madam, I stay at home, my mother is sick, and the care of the place falls on me heavily enow.'
When Lucy saw Lady Pembroke she disengaged her hand from the Earl's, and said,—
'May it please you, my Lord, to permit me to go to my Lady, she may be seeking me.'
'Now why so cruel?' the Earl rejoined; 'why cannot you give me one smile? Do not reserve all your favour for yonder young country-bred giant, whom my sister has chosen to patronise.'
But Lucy was resolute, her colour rose at this reference to George, and, with a profound curtsey, she left the Earl's side and joined the Countess.
'Ah, Lucy, you are in time to give Master George your hand for a Saraband, and I will find my uncle, the Earl, another partner, even myself,' she added, laughing.
It was all done so quickly that George could scarcely realise what had happened.