“Oh, Stephen!” she cried within herself; “oh, Stephen!” Yet what this was that so hurt her she did not ask.
In the hall there was dead silence for the space of a minute. Then the knight came out of his chimney corner a step:—
“God's bones!” quoth he in a half whisper; and Calote, looking in his face, knew that she must go away from this house as soon as might be. She set her hand to her breast and fingered the hilt of the dagger, where she had thrust it unseen of Custance.
“A common peasant! 'T is amazing!” exclaimed Eleyne.
“I knew she was very fair,” said Godiyeva quietly.
“Doth not my pearl net gleam against her gold hair?” cried Custance, and swept a low curtsey before this new-made lady.
“To-night ye may thank Saint Mary your many wooers be not by, my daughters,” mocked them Sir Austin; and Godiyeva tossed her head.
“Tell me, wench,” he continued, “'t would like thee well to be a lady?”
Calote, her heart aching with the thought of Stephen, answered him proudly:—
“I might be one, an I would.”