they were the peculiar treasure of a paynim queen, and upon her bosom a necklet of large pearls.  Brooches and rings also she found for her breast and fingers, and for her waist a jewelled girdle with a golden clasp, while to her ears she hung the finest gems of all—­two great pearls pink like the hawthorn-bloom when it begins to turn.  Lastly she flung over her head a veil of lace most curiously wrought, and stood back with pride to look at her.

Now Cicely, who all this while had been silent and unresisting, spoke for the first time, saying—­

“How came this here, Nurse?”

“Your mother wore it at her bridal, and her mother too, so I have been told.  Also once before I wrapped it about you—­when you were christened, sweet.”

“Mayhap; but how came it here?”

“In the bosom of my robe.  Not knowing when we should get home again, I brought it, thinking that perhaps one day you might marry, when it would be useful.  And now, strangely enough, the marriage has come.”

“Emlyn, Emlyn, I believe that you planned all this business, whereof God alone knows the end.”

“That is why He makes a beginning, dear, that His end may be fulfilled in due season.”

“Aye, but what is that end?  Mayhap this is my shroud you wrap about me.  In truth, I feel as though death were near.”

“He is ever that,” replied Emlyn unconcernedly.  “But so long as he doesn’t touch, what does it matter?  Now hark you, sweetest, I’ve Spanish and gypsy blood in me with which go gifts, and so I’ll tell you something for your comfort.  However oft he snatches, Death will not lay his bony hand on you for many a long year—­not till you are well-nigh as thin with age as he is.  Oh! you’ll have your troubles like all of us, worse than many, mayhap, but you are Luck’s own child, who lived when the rest were taken, and you’ll win through and take others on your back, as a whale does barnacles.  So snap your fingers at death, as I do,” and she suited the action to the word, “and be happy while you may, and when you’re not happy, wait till your turn comes round again.  Now follow me and, though your father is murdered, smile as you should in such an hour, for what man wants a sad-faced bride?”

They walked down the broad oaken stairs into the hall where Christopher stood waiting for them.  Glancing at him shyly, Cicely saw that he was clad in mail beneath his cloak, and that his sword was girded at his side, also that some men with him were armed.  For a moment he stared at her glittering beauty confused, then said—­

“Fear not this hint of war in love’s own hour,” and he touched his shining armour.  “Cicely, these nuptials are strange as they are happy, and some might try to break in upon them.  Come now, my sweet lady;” and bowing before her he took her by the hand and led her from the house, Emlyn walking behind them and the men with torches going before and following after.