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Rufus Quaryll, neighbor and wooer, was the first to speak, looking up at her with rapture in his eyes of reddish brown. "Imperial lady, the siege of Harby is raised." Brilliana flung out her hands to him, and as he caught and kissed them she raised him to his feet. "Your news is music," she said, and her voice was as blithe as a song.
As Halfman made him no answer but continued to stare gloomily into the garden, Blaise concluded that the interest lay there which made him thus distracted. So he came down to the table and looked over Halfman's shoulder. In the distance he saw a man and woman walking among the trees. The man was patently the Puritan prisoner, the woman was the chatelaine of Harby.
His eyes had never left Evander's, and he knew that Evander spoke what he believed. He gave a short laugh. "And very surely if Sir Randolph be shot over yonder you will be shot down here." "That," said Evander, still smiling, "is why I say that I have come to stay at Harby." "You take your fate blithely," Halfman commented, scanning Evander with curiosity.
"What is going on in England, the King's England, little England, that should not be big enough to have any room for traitors?" She put her finger on the spot where Harby figured on the sheet. "Here," she mused, "we have been sundered from the world for all these days by this Roundhead leaguer, hearing no outside news but the ring of rebel shots and the sound of rebel voices. What has happened?
He sighed as he surveyed the familiar walls of Harby House, because of one unfamiliar object. Over the ancient walls, straight from the ancient roof, sprang a flag-staff, and from that flag-staff floated a banner which Master Vallance knew well enough to be the royal standard of England's King.
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