“I’faith, well enough in body, Bernard,” answered Hildebrand, “but somewhat ill in mind. Thy note came duly to hand, and, to speak sooth, was but timely; for I must leave these parts to-morrow.”
“Thou know’st my retreat,” said Bernard, “in case thou hadst not heard from me. ’Tis still at the Angel.”
“I should have sought thee there,” replied Hildebrand.
“Dost leave here i’ the morning?” asked Bernard. “I would thou couldst wait, if it be possible, till thou seest me again.”
“I will wait till the even,” answered Hildebrand; “but what is thy purpose?”
“I will tell thee, first, to be of a wary habit, and have a care that thou comest not in the way of Master Shedlock,” returned Bernard. “I have it on good warranty that he knows thou art here.”
“I fear him not,” rejoined Hildebrand. “But what wouldst thou have me stay for?”
“This hoary villain,” said Bernard, “who keeps thee from thy birthright of Clifford Place, which he calls New Bethlehem, hath a wife, who, albeit she holds him in an idolatrous love, hath yet a spice of goodness in her temper; and I would have leave from her to bring thee and her to a parley.”
“Wherefore wouldst thou this?” asked Hildebrand.
“She hath often told me,” resumed Bernard, “when I have mourned thee dead, that she was assured thou wast yet living, and wouldst one day return. She hath told me, too, that thy mother did her a kindness years ago; and if so be that she lived to see thee, she would bear it well in mind. Nay, it is she that bade me warn thee now, in her name, to be upon thy guard.”