Heiress of Haddon

by W. E. Doubleday

"The baron sends this for the musicians," said the page, as he deposited a large pitcher of ale upon the gallery floor. "They are coming now, and he would like some merry tunes."

Even as the lad spoke the guests came pouring into the room; laughing, joking, talking; almost all of them in the merriest possible mood.

Manners scrutinised their faces keenly, and he thought with regret of the time not long ago, when he too had been one of the happiest of all the merry guests of just such another party. But where was Doll? He could not see her anywhere, and so intent was he on searching for his beloved, that the blast of the trumpets by his side startled him and made him fairly jump with surprise.

Mechanically he took his instrument up. The tune was simple and he knew it well, but even as he played his eye wandered from the sheet before him to scan the merry throng below.

Ha! there she was. He discovered her at last, but her gait was lively and her dress was amongst the gayest of the gay; and as she entered leaning upon Sir Edward Stanley's arm she wore a smile upon her face. His heart misgave him at the sight. Had Lettice deceived him? For a moment he entertained the thought, and he cursed the hope which she had planted in his heart, and then in a fear of anxiety he lay the lute down and looked to find the fatal bow of black.

What was it he saw? His gaze was rivetted upon her dress, by the side of which hung the long fan. His eyes seemed to dance about, his head swam, and, before he could determine the question, Dorothy had passed by and taken her place at the table.

Father Nicholas asked a blessing which was even longer and more wearisome than his predecessor had indulged in, and the occupants of the gallery took advantage of the long interval to quaff the greater portion of the refreshing beverage which Sir George, with characteristic generosity, had sent up to them.

The prayer had a conclusion though, and when the good father reached it the fact was signalised by an unanimous, if not very sincere "amen" from the guests, while the band struck up another lively tune.

Throughout the meal the musicians had little rest. One tune was played and immediately another was struck up to take its place, and the gay company at the tables laughed and chattered the while with the utmost vivacity and glee.

For Manners it was a weary time! There appeared to be no end to the succession of dishes, and he impatiently waited for the time when the signal would be given which would give him unbounded joy or doom him to perpetual misery. To him, at least, the time dragged wearily along, the tunes were lifeless, the courses were inordinately long, and it was a positive relief to him when Nicholas rose up again and pronounced a benediction, equally as long and dreary as the opening grace.