And so she heard nothing of the talk of the others; though her sister looked at her tenderly once or twice; and Mary Corbet chattered and twitched her buckles in the sun, and Anthony sat embarrassed in the midst of Paradise; and she knew nothing of where she was nor of what was happening round her, until Mary Corbet said that it was time for the horses to be round, and that she must go and get ready and not keep Mr. James and Mr. Anthony waiting. Then, as she and Anthony went towards the house, the old lady looked up from the braying stag and found herself alone with her sister.
Mistress Margaret waited until the other two disappeared up the steps, and then spoke.
“I have told her all, sister,” she said, “she can be trusted.”
Lady Maxwell nodded gently.
“She has a good heart,” went on the other, “and our Lord no doubt will find some work for her to do at Court.”
There was silence again; broken by the gentle little sound of the silk being drawn through the stuff.
“You know best, Margaret,” said Lady Maxwell.
Even as she spoke there was the sound of a door thrown violently open and old Sir Nicholas appeared on the top of the steps, hatless and plainly in a state of great agitation; beside him stood a courier, covered with the dust of the white roads, and his face crimson with hard riding. Sir Nicholas stood there as if dazed, and Lady Maxwell sprang up quickly to go to him. But a moment after there appeared behind him a little group, his son James, Miss Corbet and a servant or two; while Anthony hung back; and Mr. James came up quickly, and took his father by the arm; and together the little company came down the steps into the still and sunny garden.
“What is it?” cried Lady Maxwell, trying to keep her voice under control; while Mistress Margaret laid her work quietly down, and stood up too.
“Tell my lady,” said Sir Nicholas to the courier, who stood a little apart.