“Young woman,” said the merchant, “you are plainly of better birth and breeding than you choose to affect. Now I am thinking of getting married. I have ships at sea, and stuffs and jewels coming from Venice and Araby; and I am like to be Lord Mayor ere long; but there’s that I like in your face and discreet bearing, and I’ll make you my wife, and give you all my keys—your father willing!”
“Your turn’s out, old burgher,” said a big, burly, and much younger man, pressing forward. “Pretty wench! I’m not like to be Lord Mayor, nor nothing of that sort; but I’m a score of years nigher thine age, and a lusty fellow to boot, that could floor any man at single-stick, within the four seas. Ay, and have been thought comely too, though Joyce o’ the haugh did play me false; and I come o’ this pilgrimage just to be merry and forget it. If thou wilt take me, and come back to spite Joyce, thou shalt be hostess of the Black Bull, at Brentford, where all the great folk from the North ever put up when they come to town; the merriest and richest hostel, and will have the comeliest host and hostess round about London town!”
The lady bowed her head. Perhaps those rosy lips were trying hard to keep from laughing.
“A hostel’s no place for a discreet dame to bide in,” put forth an honest voice. “Maiden, I know not who or what you are, but I came o’ this pilgrimage to please my old mother, who said I might do my soul good, and bring home a wife—better over the moor than over the mixen—and I know she would give thee a right good welcome. I’m Baldric of the Cheddar Cliff, and we have held our land ever since the old days, or ever the Norman kings came here. Three hundred kine, woman, and seven score swine, and many an acre of good corn land under the hill.”
The lady had never looked up while these suitors were speaking. When Baldric of Cheddar had done, she gave one furtive glance through her long eyelashes, as if to see if there were any more, and then her cheek flushed. There still remained the knight. Some others had slunk away when brought to such close quarters, but he stepped forth more hesitatingly, and said, “Lady, I know not whether the bare rock and castle I have to offer can weigh against the ships, the hostel, or the swine. I have few of either; I am but a poor baron, but such as I am, I am wholly yours. Thine eyes have bound me to you for ever, and all I seek is leave to make myself better known, and to ask that your noble father may not deem me wholly unworthy to be your suitor.”
The lady trembled a little, but she held her place in the doorway. “Gentles,” she said, “I thank ye for the honour ye have done me, but I may not dispose of mine own self. My father is ill at ease, and can see no one; but he bids me tell you that he will meet all who have aught to say to him, under the trysting tree at Bethnal Green, the day after the Midsummer feast.”
With these words she retired into her hut, and closed the door. She was seen again no more that day; and on the next the hut stood open, empty, and deserted.
CHAPTER XV
THE BEGGAR’S DOWRY
“‘But first you shall promise and have it well knowne
The gold that you drop shall all be your owne;’
With that they replyed, ‘Contented we bee;’
‘Then here’s,’ quoth the beggar, ‘for pretty Bessee.’”Old Ballad.
The day after Midsummer had come, and towards the fine elm tree that then adorned the centre of Bethnal Green, three horsemen were wending their way. Each had his steed a good deal loaded: each looked about him anxiously.