Mora knitted her brows. It did not please her that Zachary and Martin
Goodfellow should arrange together what she should do.
"Describe him, Martin," she said. "What manner of man is he?"
"Swarthy," said Martin, "and soldierly; somewhat of a dare-devil, but on his best behaviour. Zachary and I would suggest——"
"I will see him," said Mora, beginning to descend the stairs. "I will see him in the banqueting hall, and alone. You, Martin, can wait without, entering on the instant if I call. Tell Zachary to bid them prepare a meal of bread and meat, with a flagon of wine, or a pot of good ale, which I may offer to this traveller, should he need refreshment."
She was standing in the banqueting hall, on the very spot where Hugh had kneeled at their parting, when the swarthy fellow, soldierly, yet somewhat of a dare-devil, entered.
Most certainly he was on his best behaviour. He doffed his cap at first sight of her, advanced a few paces, then stood still, bowing low; came forward a few more paces, then bowed again.
She spoke.
"You wished to see my husband, Friend, and speak with him? He is away and hardly can return before five days, at soonest. Is your business with Sir Hugh such as I can pass on to him for you, by word of mouth?"
She hoped those bold, dark eyes did not perceive how she glowed to speak for the first time, to another, of Hugh as her husband.
He answered, and his words were blunt; his manner, frank and soldierly.