On entering the large wainscotted hall the girls found the pedlar standing in the embrasure of one of the windows, his pack tying unopened at his feet. He was an aged, wizened-looking creature upon whose face greed and cunning had laid their stamp.
Cicely eagerly eyeing the pack addressed herself to him with a slight air of hauteur.
"Well, fellow, where are your wares? Have you aught of rarity or value to show us?"
"Ay, that have I, mistress," he answered in a high-pitched grating voice, with an air of impertinent familiarity. "I have that here which will bring light to the dullest eye, a blush to the palest cheek, and joy to the saddest heart. 'Tis not over rare neither, yet 'tis ever held to be of the greatest value."
"Why what mean you? What should this be?"
"A letter, mistress! a love-letter I doubt not."
"A letter! From whom?"
"From one of whom your ladyship hath long wished to hear, and hath well-nigh heard from no more," he answered with a brutal laugh.
Cicely's eyes flashed, her whole body trembled with eagerness.
"Ah! give it me, give it me, my good man; why hast thou delayed so foolishly?"