Chapter 1

(_underscores_ denote italics)

The Fifth Day of April, 1676

Upon the village of Camylott there had rested since the earliest peep
of dawn a hush of affectionate and anxious expectancy, the very
plough-boys going about their labours without boisterous laughter, the
children playing quietly, and the good wives in their kitchens and
dairies bustling less than usual and modulating the sharpness of their
voices, the most motherly among them in truth finding themselves
falling into whispering as they gossiped of the great subject of the
hour.

"The swallows were but just beginning to stir and twitter in their
nests under the eaves when I heard the horses' hoofs a-clatter on the
high road," said Dame Watt to her neighbour as they stood in close
confab in her small front garden. "Lord's mercy! though I have lain
down expecting it every night for a week, the heart of me leapt up in
my throat and I jounced Gregory with a thump in his back to wake him
from his snoring. 'Gregory,' cries I, "tis sure begun. God be kind to
her young Grace this day. There goes a messenger clattering over the
road. Hearken to his horse's feet.'"

Dame Bush, her neighbour, being the good mother of fourteen stalwart
boys and girls, heaved a lusty sigh, the sound of which was a thing
suggesting much experience and fellow-feeling even with noble ladies at
such times.

"There is not a woman's heart in Camylott village," said she, "which
doth not beat for her to-day--and for his Grace and the heir or heiress
that will come of these hours of hers. God bless all three!"

"Lord, how the tiny thing hath been loved and waited for!" said Dame
Watt. "'Tis somewhat to be born a great Duke's child! And how its
mother hath been cherished and kept like a young saint in a shrine!"

"If 'tis not a great child and a beauteous one 'twill be a wondrous
thing, its parents being both beautiful and happy, and both deep in
love," quoth motherly Bush.

"Ay, it beginneth well; it beginneth well," said Dame Watt--"a being
born to wealth and state. What with chaplains and governors of virtue
and learning, there seemeth no way for it to go astray in life or grow
to aught but holy greatness. It should be the finest duke or duchess in
all England some day, surely."

"Heaven ordains a fair life for some new-born things, 'twould seem,"
said Bush, "and a black one for others; and the good can no more be
escaped than the bad. There goes my Matthew in his ploughboy's smock
across the fields. 'Tis a good lad and a handsome. Why was he not a
great lord's son?"

Neighbour Watt laughed.

"Because thou wert