"Thou wist, _Edith_," saith he, "I did alway love her: but when yon rogue came in the way betwixt that did end all by the beguilement of our poor _Blanche_, I well-nigh gave up all hope, for methought she were fair enchanted by him."

"I think she so were, for a time, _Robin_," said I, "until she saw verily what manner of man he were: and that it were not truly he that she had loved, but the man she had accounted him."

"Well," saith _Robin_, "I would like to be the man she accounted him.

Thinkest there is any chance?"

"Thou wist I can but guess," I made answer, "for _Milisent_ is very close of that matter, though she be right open on other: but I see no reason, _Robin_, wherefore thou shouldst not win her favour, and I do ensure thee I wish thee well therein."

"_Edith_, thou art an angel!" crieth he out: and squeezed mine hand till I wished him the other side the Border.

"Nay!" said I, a-laughing: "what then is _Milly_?"

"Oh, aught thou wilt," saith he, also laughing, "that is sweet, and fair, and delightsome. Dost know, _Edith_, our _Nym_ goeth about to be a soldier? He shall leave us this next month."

"A soldier!" cried I: for in very deed _Nym_ and a soldier were two matters that ran not together to my thoughts. Howbeit, I was not sorry to hear that _Nym_ should leave this vicinage, and thereby cease tormenting of our _Helen_. The way he gazeth on her all the sermon-time in church should make me fit to poison him, were I she, and desired not (as I know she doth not) that he should be a-running after me. But, _Nym_ a soldier! I could as soon have looked to see _Moses_ play the virginals. Why, he is feared of his own shadow, very nigh: and is worser for ghosts than even _Austin Park_. I do trust, if we need any defence here in _Derwentdale_, either the Queen's Majesty shall not send _Nym_ to guard us, or else that his men shall have stouter hearts than he. An hare were as good as _Nym Lewthwaite_.

Sithence I writ what goeth afore, have we all been rare gladded by _Walter's_ coming, which was just when the dusk had fallen. He looketh right well of his face, and is grown higher, and right well-favoured: but, eh me, so fine! I felt well-nigh inclined to lout [courtesy] me low unto this magnifical gentleman, rather than take him by the hand and kiss him. _Ned_ saith--

"The Queen's Highness' barge ahoy!--all lined and padded o' velvet!--and in the midst the estate [the royal canopy] of cloth of gold! Off with your caps, my hearties!"

_Walter_ laughed, and took it very well. Saith Aunt _Joyce_, when he come to her--

"_Wat_, how much art thou worth by the yard?"

"Ten thousand pound, _Aunt_," saith he, boldly, and laughing.

"Ha!" saith she, somewhat dry. "I trust 'tis safe withinside, for I see it not without."

SELWICK HALL, MARCH YE IV.

Yesterday, being _Sunday_, was nought said touching _Wat_ and his ways: only all to church, of course, at matins and evensong, but this day no sermons. This morrow, after breakfast, as we arose from the table, saith _Father_:--

"_Walter_, my lad, thou and I must have some talk."

"An' it like you, Sir," saith _Wat_.

"Wouldst thou choose it rather without other ears?"

"Not any way, I thank you, Sir."

"Then," quoth _Father_, drawing of a chair afore the fire, "we may tarry as we be."

_Walter_ sat him down in the chimney-corner; _Mother_, with her sewing, on the other side the fire; Aunt _Joyce_ in the place she best loveth, in the window. Cousin _Bess_ and _Mynheer_ were gone on their occasions. _Ned_ and we three maids were in divers parts of the chamber; _Ned_ carving of a wooden boat for _Anstace_ her little lad, and we at our sewing.

"Wilt tell me, _Wat_," saith _Father_, "what years thou hast?"

"Why, Sir," quoth he, "I reckon you know that something better than I; but I have alway been given to wit that the year of my birth was Mdlvii." [1557.]

"The which, sith thou wert born in _July_, makes thee now of two and twenty years," _Father_ makes answer.

"I believe so much, Sir," saith _Walter_, that looked somewhat diverted at this beginning.

"And thy wage at this time, from my Lord of _Oxenford_, is sixteen pound by the year?" [Note 1.]

"It is so, Sir," quoth _Wat_.

"And what reckonest thy costs to be?"

"In good sooth, Sir, I have not reckoned," saith he.

"Go to--make a guess."

_Wat_ did seem diseased thereat, and fiddled with his chain. At the last (_Father_ keeping silence) he saith, looking up, with a flush of his brow--

"To speak truth, Sir, I dare not."

"Right, my lad," saith _Father_. "Speak the truth, and let come of it what will. But, in very deed, we must come to it, _Wat_. This matter is like those wounds that 'tis no good to heal ere they be probed. Nor knew I ever a chirurgeon to use the probe without hurting of his patient. Howbeit, _Wat_, I will not hurt thee more than is need. Tell me, dost thou think that all thy costs, of whatsoever kind, should go into two hundred pound by the year?"

The red flush on _Wat's_ brow grew deeper.

"I am afeared not, Sir," he made answer, of a low voice.

"Should they go into three?" _Wat_ hesitated, but seemed more diseased [uncomfortable] than ever.

"Should four overlap them?"

_Wat_ brake forth.

"_Father_, I would you would scold me--I cannot stand it! I should feel an hard whipping by far less than your terrible gentleness. I know I have been a downright fool, and I have known it all the time: but what is a man to do? The fellows laugh at you if you do not as all the rest.

Then they come to one every day, with, 'Here, _Louvaine_, lend me a sovereign,'--and 'Look you, _Louvaine_, pay this bill for me,'--and they should reckon you the shabbiest companion ever lived, if you did it not, or if, having done it, you should ask them for it again."

"_Wat_!" saith Aunt _Joyce_ from the window.

"What so, _Aunt_?" quoth he.

"Stand up a minute, and let me look at thee," saith she.

_Walter_ did so, but with a look as though he marvelled what Aunt _Joyce_ would be at.

"I would judge from thy face," quoth she, "if thou art the right lad come, or they have changed thee in _London_ town. Our _Walter_ used to have his father's eyes and his mother's mouth. Well, I suppose thou art: but I should scantly have guessed it from thy talk."

"_Walter_," softly saith _Mother_, "thy father should never have so dealt when he were of thy years."

"Lack-a-daisy! I would have thought the world was turning round," quoth Aunt _Joyce_, "had I ever heard such a speech of _Aubrey_ at any years whatsoever."

_Father_ listed this with some diversion, as methought from the set of his lips.

"Well, I am not as good as _Father_," saith _Wat_.

"Amen!" quoth Aunt _Joyce_.