I fell into a doze at last, lulled by the sound of Betsy's untiring voice and the steady trampling of the horses' feet, and when I awoke again the moon was shining brightly down upon Sir Hubert riding by the litter, making the small gold cross he wore upon his breast gleam in its light.
He seemed to know in a moment when I awoke.
'Are you better, Mistress Margaret?' he asked, with such tender, chivalrous feeling in his voice as made my heart bound with delight.
'Yes,' I answered shyly, and meant to have thanked him, but could say no more, for thinking of the tears he had seen me shed and that I was too small a person and too babyish to be lifted up so high as he was lifting me above himself.
'I am glad of that,' he said. 'I want to tell you something. We are coming to a castle, where a friend of mine dwells. He will give us lodging for the night, and indeed I think we had better stay a day or two for you to rest.'
'Will you stay, too?' I asked, as simply as a little child.
He bent his head over his horse and appeared to be busy examining the bridle. I could not see his face and began to fear that I might have said something wrong. But he did not blame me when he spoke again.
'Sir William Wood,' he said, 'who lives at this castle we are approaching, is a great friend of mine, and indeed it was to stay with him that I came into this neighbourhood—we had certain business of importance to discuss——' he broke off, and began again, 'He was in Spain with us, when I went there with some friends on an embassy, and he and I were knighted at the same time. He has a fair young wife, Lady Caroline, who will be good to you.'
'I should like to go to them for the night,' said I, 'for I am weary.' And I could not prevent a sob from escaping from my breast.
'Poor child! I know you are,' he answered, with infinite compassion.