"Your servant, sir. A servant who learned his duty before it was the
fashion for servants to forget what they owe their masters. Alack!
alack! service now, like liberty, is but a name, and servants do as they
please."
"Did you so with the Master of Burrell?"
"But indifferently, sir; I fled, in a very servant-like manner, as you
know, when he was in danger. But I had my reasons for it, as well as for
going with him to London; only I'd rather not talk of that to-night,
sir. It is a mortal pity that such a sweet lady as Mistress Constance
should be forced to marry such a brute; for my part, I never could
discover any wisdom in those contracts, as they call them. Ah, little
Barbara is a discreet girl. But I have heard some one say, that, for all
her fine lands, poor lady, her heart is breaking, and chipping away bit
by bit. 'Tis very fine to be rich, but, being rich, very hard to be
happy, because the troubles we make ourselves are less easy to be borne,
than those that come upon us in the course of nature. If I had my wish,
it is not gold I'd ask for."
"Indeed! What then, Robin?"
"Just enough of beauty to win one woman's heart; I think I have wit
enough to keep it."
"Pshaw, Robin! though you may not be very comely, there are many worse."
"Ay, sir, apes and baboons; but they are like their kind--while I am a
poor withered creature, that Nature, in spite, threw from her, coarse
and unfinished."
"I wonder a person of your sense, Robin, should fret at such trifles.
Remember, beauty is as summer fruits, easy to corrupt, and quick to
perish."
"But for all that we look for them in summer, sir, just as youth seeks
out beauty."
The stranger turned towards Robin, but made no reply; it is sometimes
given to the simple to disconcert the wise, and that alone by their
simplicity.
A long silence followed; each ruminating on his own prospects and
projects: it was at length broken by Walter, who abruptly asked if Robin
was sure he had taken the right path.
"Mercy, sir, am I sure of the sight of my eyes! Behind that tree runs
the road we must cross, and then on to Stony Gap! Ah, many's the signal
I've hung out for the Fire-fly from that same spot; but, if perilous
times are past, and we live in days--as Master Fleetword hath it--of
peace, poor Hugh's trade will be soon over. I wish he were back--the
coast looks lonesome without him."