Calm was her greeting of her lover, contained in courteous expressions of pleasure at beholding him safe, and suffering him to kiss her hand.
In the background, his sable locks uncovered out of deference to the lady, stood Sir Crispin, his face pale and haggard, his lips parted, and his grey eyes burning as they fell again, after the lapse of years, upon the stones of this his home--the castle to which he was now come, hat in hand, to beg for shelter.
Gregory was speaking, his hands resting upon Kenneth's shoulder.
"We have been much exercised concerning you, lad," he was saying.

"We almost feared the worst, and yesterday Joseph left us to seek news of you at Cromwell's hands.

Where have you tarried ?" "Anon, sir; you shall learn anon.

The story is a long one." "True; you will be tired, and perchance you would first rest a while.
Cynthia will see to it.

But what scarecrow have you there?
What tatterdemalion is this ?" he cried, pointing to Galliard.