"So do I," replied the knight; "but this shows us, Seymour, that some of them are there still. So we must even share your pottage with you, Harding, for neither Mr. Seymour nor I will go, while they are there."
"Right welcome, sir, right welcome," replied the keeper; "this being Thursday, we always make plenty, to last till the end of the week."
As he spoke, a hand was laid upon the latch, and the next instant Ida Mara entered. As soon as she saw the old knight, who advanced to meet her, she put her hand in his with a look of deep and grateful affection, saying, "I have been stopped and troubled, sir, or I would have been here half an hour ago.--The Countess has sent me to tell you, that they are not gone. They stay over the noon meal. As soon as they are away, she will send to you."
As she spoke, she made a low inclination of the head to Seymour, but addressed herself to Sir Harry West.
"Who was this that troubled you?" asked the old knight; "the keeper has been telling me about him. Who was he, Ida? Old as I am, I am young enough to slit a coxcomb's ears."
"Mind him not, mind him not, dear Sir Harry," cried the girl, laughing. "At the Court I am obliged, very often, to give rude answers to such idle things as that. All I cared for was, that he followed me wherever I turned, and stopped me from coming hither."
"Then the Lady Arabella is not gone?" asked Seymour, somewhat impatient at this episode.
"Oh yes, sir," replied Ida Mara, "she went near two hours ago, leaving me to follow with one of the maids and her apparel."
Seymour cast down his eyes, and clasped one hand tight upon the other; and the girl, turning to the keeper, thanked him in as courteous terms and graceful language, as if she had been bred amongst the highest of the land. Then, looking to Sir Harry, she said, "I will go back now, sir, for fear they should track me here."
"You must not go alone," replied the old knight. "You may meet with insult by the way, my dear. I will go with you, till you are near the house."