Mr Sidney was standing on the rough ground before Ford Place, leaning against the gnarled trunk of an ancient thorn tree, which had yet life enough left in it to put forth its tiny, round buds of pink and white, soon to open and fill the air with fragrance.
By his side Mary Gifford stood, with her face turned towards the smiling landscape before her.
Philip Sidney, with the courtesy of the true gentleman, advanced to Lucy with his cap in his hand, bending the knee, and greeting her with all the grace and courtly ceremony with which he would have greeted the highest lady in the land.
The girl's face shone with proud delight, and the young voice trembled a little as she said, in answer to his question,—
'I thank you, sir, I am well and hearty.'
'I need scarce ask the question,' Mr Sidney said. 'With your good sister's approval, I came to inquire if you would care to fill the vacant place in my sister the Countess of Pembroke's household. She leaves Penshurst shortly, and will be at Leicester House before returning to Wilton. One of her gentlewomen is summoned to her father's deathbed, and Mistress Crawley, her bower-woman, needs help. I am not learned in the secrets of the toilette, but you would soon learn what might be expected of you.'
'And shall I see the great show, sir—shall I see the tourney and the knights tilting?' Lucy said, unable to repress her joy.
'Doubtless,' Mr Sidney replied laughing. 'But, Mistress Lucy, it will not be all play. Mistress Crawley is a somewhat stern task-mistress. My sister bade me say as much. Therefore, consider the proposal well, and consult Mistress Gifford, than whom you cannot have a wiser counsellor.'
'Mary,' Lucy exclaimed, 'I may go to serve my Lady of Pembroke? Speak, Mary.'
Mary Gifford now turned towards Lucy and Mr Sidney. Up to this time she had averted her face.