"Aye," replied the youth, "Mistress Dorothy sent Lettice with a message for thee, but old Roger knew not where thou would'st be found."

"Where is it?" cried the lover, impatiently, "let me see it; 'tis the answer, I'll warrant me."

"Nay, I have it not. Lettice awaits thee at the hut; she would not even let me bring it to thee, for her mistress, she says, charged her to tell it to none but thee."

"At the hut," repeated Manners, as he started to return. Is she there now?"

"She is awaiting thee; but, Master Manners, let me crave a favour first."

"Quick, then," was the hasty reply, "tell me what it is, for I cannot wait."

"Lettice has been rating me well," returned the downcast lover, as he started to return with Manners. "She is angered against me that I followed thee last night. She will not look at me now, and if I open my mouth about it she swears she will speak to me no more. A word from thee, good sir, would set the matter right again, else I fear me I have lost her favour, and there be many round about who would gladly take my place."

"Oh," laughed Manners, "I will see to that, and happen you may do me some good service in return?"

"Aye, master, that I will," he replied, mightily relieved.

Manners said no more; his mind was too much occupied, his thoughts were bubbling within him in furious turmoil. Leaving his companion behind, he rushed hastily on, and never stayed his course until he had reached his destination.

"The letter, Lettice, the letter," he cried, as he entered the hut.

"Nay, I have no letter, Master Manners," replied the maid. "My lady bid me tell it thee instead."

"What is it? Is it yes, or no?" he cried.

"Neither, yet. My mistress went all through the weary night, and thought of naught else but thee and the answer she should give."

"Poor Doll," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed her lover, tenderly. "'Tis time all this was ended, Lettice; she is fading away, yes, fading away, and what will come of it all, if she says me nay, I tremble to think."

"She will not say thee nay, though, Master Manners," replied Lettice.

"I shall lose my mistress soon. She has told me all."

"Told thee all?" he echoed. "She will not say me nay, and yet she consents not! You speak in riddles. Come, explain it all."

"She knoweth not her mind as yet," explained the maiden, "but I can plainly see which way it will all end. Even as she poured her story out to me I could see it; I could read it in her sobs and sighs. She had not wept so long had she not loved thee so well; and her love for thee is stronger than her other loves, else she had obeyed my lord the baron by now. It needs no astrologer to tell all this."

"Heaven grant it may be so," replied Manners, fervently; "but what did my Dorothy bid thee say? Thy words have made a sore commotion in my heart, fair Lettice."

Lettice hung down her head and blushed at the unexpected compliment.

"Thou art to come to the feast to-night," she replied, "and my lady will give thee answer there."

"I shall be there, Lettice," he promptly returned. "Tell her I shall not fail her. But how shall I see her, has she thought of that?"

"We have arranged it all, good sir; thou hast but to do her bidding, and all will go well."

She did not say that Dorothy had been too distracted in mind to make any arrangements whatever, but, as a matter of fact, this duty had devolved entirely upon the maid, for her mistress had done little more than nod a.s.sent through her tears to all the propositions of her companion. It was the ready wit of Lettice which had proposed everything at just the time when Dorothy was quite unable to suggest anything for herself.

"The wedding ceremony will take place in four more days," Lettice continued, "and the feasting begins to-night."

Manners was aware of the fact, and he bowed his head in silent acquiescence.

"And thou art to come to the Hall," pursued the maid. "Thou art skilful on the lute, my mistress says."

"I can play the lute," he answered, "but what of that? Will she pipe me an answer back?"

"Nay, Master Manners, listen. Thou art to be a musician for the once, and must join the minstrels in the gallery."

"In the banqueting-room! Then I must seek a fresh disguise," he said. "Hey, Lettice, I would it were night already, the day will drag wearily enough for me, I trow; but I shall look for my reward to-night. Thou art sure of what thou hast told me, Lettice, for were she to refuse me after all, it were hard indeed!"

"Trust me, I am not like to be deceived; she wears her heart upon her sleeve. Unless she changes, I have told thee aright, but my lady never changes in her love. Ah, me, I shall lose my mistress soon, and I am sad to think of it."

"Nay, Lettice," interposed Manners, "thou shalt marry honest Will, and he shall be my chamberlain. Thou shalt be near Dorothy yet."

The maid's countenance flushed with joy at the prospect of such bliss.

"That were happiness, indeed," she cried, "for or! Master Manners, I love her; I cannot help it--who could? I love her dearly; to part from her--"

"Aye," interrupted Manners, "who could help it indeed. Tell her I shall see her, I shall be there."

"And if it be 'yes,' my mistress will drop her fan upon the floor,"

went on Lettice; "but if the answer is 'no' she will tie a black ribbon on it. Thou must watch well, but it will surely fall."

"Amen," said Manners. "Then I should be the happiest man on all the earth."

"But happen my lady will not be there," the maid went on.

The lover groaned at the thought, and interrupted the maiden by so doing.

"Well, then," she continued, "either will I give thee a letter, or, if that cannot be, thou must go to Bakewell Church to-morrow eve, and thou shalt find the letter squeezed behind the font. But there, I must away; the day will pa.s.s all too quickly for me, for I have much to do."

"Stay," he exclaimed, and plucking a sprig of holly from the bush which grew beside the door, he placed it in the maiden's hand.

"Give her this," he said, "and tell her it came from me. Bid her keep a stout heart within her; she must smile to-night."

Lettice took the little bunch of green and red, and making a reverential curtsey to her lady's lover, she hastened away towards the Hall; and, as Manners watched her retreating figure, he saw the form of a man step out from among the bushes and join her company. It was her lover, who had waited with an anxious heart to discover the effect of the promised mediation.

True to his promise, Manners presented himself at the appointed time at the door of the orchestra, though not without inward misgivings as to the character of the reception in store for him. He need, however, have had no apprehension on that score, for everything had been conveniently arranged. The leader of the musicians (they were princ.i.p.ally hired Derby men) had been bribed, and when the esquire presented himself for admittance he was warmly greeted.

"Well, Ralph!" exclaimed that worthy as he almost wrung Manners'

hands off in the heartiness of his embrace; "thou hast come to thy old friend again, eh? We must cement the friendship this time with a tankard of Haddon-brewed ale, and if thou hast not greatly altered since I knew thee last, thou'lt not be averse to that."

"Of course not," replied Manners, readily; "and these are all fresh men? I cannot see one of the old faces among them all."

"They are good fellows, though," returned their leader, proudly, "and they play right well. Ha! here comes a messenger."

The musicians, most of whom had until now been idly leaning over the balcony, gazing, with an interest of which they were not fully aware, at the servants below as they were putting the finishing strokes to the preparation of the feast, immediately took their allotted places, and Manners found himself at the end of the row within the shadow of the wall, and separated from the rest by the intervening body of the leader.

"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."