The road up to the
big gates--every tree and hillock, every stock and stone, loved and
familiar, recalling childish joys and sorrows, adventure and
enterprise. Then the passing in through the gates, the familiar faces,
the glad greetings; Zachary--white-haired, but still rosy and
stalwart--at the foot of the steps; and, in the doorway, just where
loneliness might have gripped her, old Debbie, looking as if she had
never been away, waiting with open arms. So this was the moment
foreseen by Hugh when he had planned an early start, that morning, for
Mistress Deborah, and a more roundabout ride for her.
She turned, with an impulsive gesture, holding out to him her left
hand, that he might cross the threshold with her. But the Knight was
stooping to examine the right forehoof of her palfrey, she having
fancied Icon had trod tenderly upon it during the last half-mile; so
she passed in alone.
Afterwards she overheard old Debbie say, in her most scolding tones:
"She did stretch out her hand to you, Sir Hugh, and you saw it not!"
But the Knight's deep voice made courteous answer: "There is no look or
gesture of hers, however slight, good Mistress Deborah, which doth
escape me." And at this her heart thrilled far more than if he had met
her hand, responsive; knowing that thus he did faithfully keep his
pledge to her, and that he could so keep it, only by never relaxing his
stern hold upon himself.
Yet almost she began to wish him less stern and less faithful, so much
did she long to feel for one instant the strong clasp of his arms about
her.
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