The Lady's first thought was that of rapturous joy at her husband's
return--her second was connected with a fear which had sometimes
intruded itself, that he might not altogether approve the peculiar
distinction with which she had treated her orphan ward. In this fear
there was implied a consciousness, that the favour she had shown him
was excessive; for Halbert Glendinning was at least as gentle and
indulgent, as he was firm and rational in the intercourse of his
household; and to her in particular, his conduct had ever been most
affectionately tender.

Yet she did fear, that, on the present occasion, her conduct might
incur Sir Halbert's censure; and hastily resolving that she would not
mention, the anecdote of the boy until the next day, she ordered him
to be withdrawn from the apartment by Lilias.

"I will not go with Lilias, madam," answered the spoiled child, who
had more than once carried his point by perseverance, and who, like
his betters, delighted in the exercise of such authority,--"I will not
go to Lilias's gousty room--I will stay and see that brave warrior who
comes riding so gallantly along the drawbridge."

"You must not stay, Roland," said the Lady, more positively than she
usually spoke to her little favourite.

"I will," reiterated the boy, who had already felt his consequence,
and the probable chance of success.

"You _will_, Roland!" answered the Lady, "what manner of word is
that? I tell you, you must go."