one, made a few steps forward on the greensward, then called aloud,
"Thomas!" no answer, "Edward! Harry of Lancaster!" but still her
clear silvery voice was unheeded, until a servant came from some
other part of the building, and, bowing, awaited her orders. "Where
are Lord Edward and the rest?" she asked.

"Gone forth," the servant believed, "to ride on the open space near
St. Ursula's Convent."

"None left at home?"

"None, noble Lady."

"None," repeated Lady Maude, "save the little Lord Richard, whose
baby company your pageship would hardly esteem. You must try to
endure the quietness of the lady's chamber, unless you would wish
to be at once introduced to the grave master of the Damoiseaux."

At this moment Arthur's eye fell upon a lady who had just emerged
from a long shady alley, up which she had been slowly walking, and
the bright look of recognition which lighted up his face, was so
different from the shy and constrained expression he had hitherto
worn, that Lady Maude remarked it, and following his gaze, said,
"Lady Agnes de Clarenham? Ah yes, she is of kin to you. Let us
go meet her." Then, as they approached, she said, "Here, Agnes, I
have brought you a young cousin of yours, whom the Prince has just
conducted into my mother's chamber, where he bore so rueful a
countenance that I grew pitiful enough to come forth on a bootless
errand after his fellow Damoiseaux, who, it seems, are all out riding.
So I shall even leave him to you, for there is a troubadour in the