"It has cut many, however," said Anthony Foster, half aside, and looking
at Varney. By this time the knot was disentangled without any other
help than the neat and nimble fingers of Janet, a simply-attired pretty
maiden, the daughter of Anthony Foster, who came running at the repeated
call of her mistress. A necklace of orient pearl, the companion of a
perfumed billet, was now hastily produced from the packet. The lady gave
the one, after a slight glance, to the charge of her attendant, while
she read, or rather devoured, the contents of the other.
"Surely, lady," said Janet, gazing with admiration at the neck-string
of pearls, "the daughters of Tyre wore no fairer neck-jewels than these.
And then the posy, 'For a neck that is fairer'--each pearl is worth a
freehold."
"Each word in this dear paper is worth the whole string, my girl. But
come to my tiring-room, girl; we must be brave, my lord comes hither
to-night.--He bids me grace you, Master Varney, and to me his wish is a
law. I bid you to a collation in my bower this afternoon; and you,
too, Master Foster. Give orders that all is fitting, and that suitable
preparations be made for my lord's reception to-night." With these words
she left the apartment.
"She takes state on her already," said Varney, "and distributes the
favour of her presence, as if she were already the partner of his
dignity. Well, it is wise to practise beforehand the part which fortune
prepares us to play--the young eagle must gaze at the sun ere he soars
on strong wing to meet it."
"If holding her head aloft," said Foster, "will keep her eyes from
dazzling, I warrant you the dame will not stoop her crest. She will
presently soar beyond reach of my whistle, Master Varney. I promise you,
she holds me already in slight regard."
"It is thine own fault, thou sullen, uninventive companion," answered
Varney, "who knowest no mode of control save downright brute force.
Canst thou not make home pleasant to her, with music and toys? Canst
thou not make the out-of-doors frightful to her, with tales of goblins?
Thou livest here by the churchyard, and hast not even wit enough to
raise a ghost, to scare thy females into good discipline."
"Speak not thus, Master Varney," said Foster; "the living I fear not,
but I trifle not nor toy with my dead neighbours of the churchyard. I
promise you, it requires a good heart to live so near it. Worthy Master
Holdforth, the afternoon's lecturer of Saint Antonlin's, had a sore
fright there the last time he came to visit me."