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Then fled I, as though I had drawn away the veil from the sanctuary, for I thought that God would surely smite me for having beheld that look. So Lord Denbeigh sailed with the Earl of Essex for the war in Spain, and my lady's soul left her body and went with him; for surely 'twas but her body that remained at Amhurste.
She was but fifteen when my lord left Amhurste for aye, and in the years since she had grown mightily, and was waxed as strong as Marian, and full a head taller. But she had long, curved flanks that saved her from buxomness; and her head was set high and light on her shoulders, like a bird that floats on a wave, and o'er it ran her bright curls, the one o'er the other, like little wavelets.
And in truth he did gaze up at her, as though she were more holy than the heavens above her. And for all her hand, the sunset found its way unto her cheek. What I now relate was told me by Marian some three days after. 'Twas on the night of the day on which Sir John had brought the stranger to Amhurste, and Marian was carding out my lady's tresses before her bedroom fire.
The earl did start half-way to his feet, and his face was first like fire and then like snow. "Margaret!" he saith, back of his teeth, as 'twere. And the lad smiled, leaning still upon the table. "Nay; my sister is called so," he said, "but my name is Robert, and I am the Lord of Amhurste and her brother. Haply she hath mentioned me unto your lordship." All think that thou art dead."
She is thy sister, and thieves have stabbed her for the jewels on her neck." And she answered him, "I will remember." And all this time methought I was in an evil dream, and that Marian, for some spite, would not awaken me. How it came about, to this day I recollect not, but ere two weeks had sped we were again at Amhurste, and my lady in her own bower, under Marian's care.
Methought Marian would have split in sunder with importance, when Lord Denbeigh took to coming sometimes to Amhurste. 'Twas never for even an hour that he stayed; and 'twas always some question of business that brought him. But my lady and he touched hands full oft during a week, and always he would look at her with a different look from that which his eyes did wear at other times.
I ha' just minded me o' th' way he used to treat th' lads that came to Amhurste to hire for under-gardeners.
And so speaking, falls like one dead at her lord's feet. Then I, running like one distraught to fetch Marian, do tilt pell-mell into Lord Robert, who hath come down to Amhurste for a week or so of rest. "Heydey!" quoth he. "What Jack-a-lent hath frighted thee?" And I told him all.
Dost remember how old Anthony Butter him who was gardener at Amhurste Castle, ye mind dost thou remember in what spite he held thee because o' those eight little salads o' thine? A always said a married with an eye to a's posterity; and o' my word a's been cockeyed e'er since, for's posterity has e'er kept him on the lookout: never chick or child hath Mistress Butter given him.
And he strove to hide his hand at his side, saying. "Tis but a scratch;" but the blood ran down like water on the grass. "Think not to spare me the sight o' blood," said my lady, "for I am learned in bandaging wounds." And certes she was, seeing that every soul at Amhurste did come to her for healing, let a cat but scratch them.
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