"Of course I speak in rhyme," he said, forcing himself to talk calmly, "and but repeat the sentiments of your song. Where did you find such pretty words?"
Meg by this time had recovered herself. The smile came back to her lips, the sense of dread passed away, and she was able to reply to his question in her usual spirit. Yet that moment left its effect behind it, and implanted in her heart a germ to grow and spread in the near future. She was ignorant of the change for the moment, yet even then felt vaguely that something had occurred to change the face of things.
"I found the words in an old book at Farbis Court," she replied quietly.
"A Carolian lyric, no doubt," said Dan, carelessly. "They have a slight flavour of Suckling and Rochester. Probably they are by some rhyming ancestor of the Breels."
"Perhaps Sir Alurde was the poet."
"Eh? You put the verses back to Elizabeth? No. They smack more of the Restoration than of Gloriana's reign. But, talking of Sir Alurde, when are you going to show me my double?"
"Come to-morrow to the park gates, at two o'clock, and I will take you to the picture-gallery."
"But Miss Linisfarne?"
"Oh, she will not mind! I told her all about you, Dan."
"I trust you drew a flattering portrait?"