“Yes, Mistress Mowbray,” Aline said at length, “I shall have a great deal to do.”
Richard Mowbray had left the hall, but old Elspeth who was standing by said, “I will help you, childie.”
Mistress Mowbray scowled at her, and muttered,—“Well, I hope, Aline, that you will work hard,” then turning to Margrove she asked to look at other wares. Such opportunities did not often occur in a remote place like Holwick and it was very difficult to do one’s purchasing at a distance; so although she only bought things of real necessity she laid in a large supply from the packman’s stock.
On these occasions the surrounding tenants were allowed to come up to the hall and Walter Margrove, when Mistress Mowbray had departed, started to put his things together to take them into the courtyard. The children stayed behind to watch him for a few moments and as he was leaving the Hall he pressed a small packet into Aline’s hand and said in a whisper, “Do not say anything; it is a pleasure, just a small remembrance.”
The packet contained the small silver necklace that he had been showing before. It was not of great intrinsic value, but was of singularly chaste design and though exceedingly simple was of much beauty.
Aline was immensely surprised at the unexpected joy, and for the time it quite made up to her for her previous disappointment.
As the packman went into the courtyard a great crowd gathered round him, both chaffering and gossiping. “Who is the beautiful young mistress that has come to Holwick?” he asked.
“Oh, she is a distant cousin of Master Mowbray,” said one, “but you have no idea of the things that have been going on since you were last at Holwick.”
“What things?”
“Why, the child has been nearly killed,” said old Elspeth who had followed the packman out. “Poor wee soul, it makes my old heart bleed to think of it even now.”