“But the village does not belong to you, does it, Cousin Richard?”
“No, there are three properties besides mine that meet there, the Duke of Alston’s, Lord Middleton’s and Master Gower’s.”
“Then how are you going to do anything?”
“Oh, Mistress Mowbray saw Lord Middleton, and he has arranged that his reeve and the Duke’s shall come over to Holwick and meet Master Gower and ourselves. I do not expect there will be any difficulty.”
Aline thought it was rather a high handed proceeding, but she said nothing. She looked at the little cottages and then her thoughts flew over to the cottage on the other side of the river that Joan had just left. She wondered rather pathetically whether nearly all life was sad like her own and Joan’s and Ian’s. Did every one of these cottages mean a sad story? It would certainly be a sad story to be turned out of one’s home. Here was a new trouble for her. “Was it true,” she thought, “that all these people were as bad as Cousin Richard supposed?”
Suddenly Audry exclaimed, “Look—there goes old Moll.”
As they overtook her she stopped and shook her staff after them, crying,—“Maidens that ride high horses to-day eat bitter bread upon the morrow.”
Master Mowbray did not catch what she said, but Aline heard and again felt that peculiar shudder that she could not explain.
A week or two later the words came back to her with bitter meaning indeed. Joan safely reached her destination and the first news that came from Durham was hopeful; but shortly afterwards the news was worse and then suddenly came word that she was dead.
Aline put the little packet carefully away in the ambry. She did not tell any one, not even Audry, but some day she hoped to carry out the child’s request. There was too much misery in the world, she must see what she could do. Perhaps she might begin by doing something for the people of Newbiggin. At least she could find out what was the real truth of the case.