“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.”

Even as the lad spoke the guests came pouring into the room; laughing, joking, talking; almost all of them in the merriest possible mood.

Manners scrutinised their faces keenly, and he thought with regret of the time not long ago, when he too had been one of the happiest of all the merry guests of just such another party.  But where was Doll?  He could not see her anywhere, and so intent was he on searching for his beloved, that the blast of the trumpets by his side startled him and made him fairly jump with surprise.

Mechanically he took his instrument up.  The tune was simple and he knew it well, but even as he played his eye wandered from the sheet before him to scan the merry throng below.

Ha! there she was.  He discovered her at last, but her gait was lively and her dress was amongst the gayest of the gay; and as she entered leaning upon Sir Edward Stanley’s arm she wore a smile upon her face.  His heart misgave him at the sight.  Had Lettice deceived him?  For a moment he entertained the thought, and he cursed the hope which she had planted in his heart, and then in a fear of anxiety he lay the lute down and looked to find the fatal bow of black.

What was it he saw?  His gaze was rivetted upon her dress, by the side of which hung the long fan.  His eyes seemed to dance about, his head swam, and, before he could determine the question, Dorothy had passed by and taken her place at the table.

Father Nicholas asked a blessing which was even longer and more wearisome than his predecessor had indulged in, and the occupants of the gallery took advantage of the long interval to quaff the greater portion of the refreshing beverage which Sir George, with characteristic generosity, had sent up to them.