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Shall we ever see it more?" There was something delightful to Grisell in that "we," but she made answer, "So far as I hear, there has been quiet there for the last two years under King Edward." "Ay, and after all he has the right of blood," said Leonard.
Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additional chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies as usual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, even as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in a pair of soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and there was a tender cry in her own tongue of "My Grisell! my dear old Grisell!
"But know you, sister, how how I should have been married to Leonard Copeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he is fair and beauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now he and his father rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so foul to see," cried Grisell, between her sobs.
Mistress, I would that you bore any other name. You mind me of the bane and grief of my life." "Verily?" uttered Grisell with some difficulty. "Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains were astray, uttered any name?" "By times, even so!" she confessed. "I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! I have never told you of the deed that marred my life."
Of the ten, a little girl, Julian by name, had to be left behind with friends as she was too ill to travel, and when Grisell had safely handed over her mother and brothers and sisters to her father's care, she returned to Scotland alone, to act as escort to the little sister, "to negotiate business, and to try if she could pick up any money of some that was owing to her father."
So he prepared to set forth, but Grisell obtained from him what she had scarcely understood the night before, the entire history of the fall of her father and brother, and how gallantly Leonard Copeland had tried to withstand Clifford's rage. "He did his best for them," she said, as if it were her one drop of hope and comfort.
The Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquette permitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lace hangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval.
Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendid knight, Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge of Wakefield. He was lowering his lance in greeting, but there was no knowing whether it was to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether he recognised her, as she wore her veil far over her face.
"No doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. See that Goodwife Hall, the white smith's wife, and her following have the best of harbouring," he added to his silver-chained steward. "You are a Dacre of Whitburn," he added to Grisell. "Your father has not taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the Percies."
Bernard was stronger, and even rode out on a pony, and the fame of his improvement brought other patients to the Lady Grisell from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best she might, successfully or the reverse, while her mother, as her health failed, let fall more and more the reins of household rule. Above, below, the Rose of Snow, Twined with her blushing face we spread. GRAY'S Bard.
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