‘We must to boot and saddle in a minute,’ said he. ‘But first a whisper in thine ear—of that, which, like the lady’s postscript, shall swallow all the text. You’ll come with me to London when I return?’
Again Brion shook his head, with a smile over the man’s persistence.
‘Not at this time, Master Walter. I have much to occupy me.’
‘Then will I let fly my last, and hit thee standing. Here’s something will prevail. Thy lady lives unwed—doubtless for thy sake.’
A shock like fire seemed to pass through Brion, as if an actual bolt had struck him. He stood quite rigid.
‘Ah!’ said the other softly. ‘Hath that sped home? Methought ’twould prove a killing shot.’
‘Joan—Joan Medley?’ whispered Brion, in a thick voice. He hardly seemed to know that he spoke.
‘The same,’ said Raleigh. ‘The City Knight’s fair daughter, that erst lived at the Chase. The father’s been dead these two years, it seems, and she hath all his fortune. I could find it in my heart to envy thee, thou rogue.’
‘How—in what way,’ began Brion—and stuck.
‘Looks she? comports herself?’ offered his companion. ‘I may not answer for myself, never having seen her. But the facts are safe. I had them from one, a certain popinjay, that calls himself my friend, and that would go a’wooing for a fortune. He came to me for advice, and laid an information where he asked one. I pricked up my ears—that was a week ago—and thanked my heart it could acquit itself at last of a debt too long unliquidated. Well, by your grace, every man’s Joan is the one incorruptible; yet, looked at in the abstract, woman’s faith is a tricky currency, and, were I you, I’d strike betimes. Such virgin obduracy may stand a long clamorous siege; but the day will come when, looking in the mirror——’