“She that hath hastened away is Mistress Wilson, methinks?” asked the inquisitive traveller of the person next him, who happened to be Mary Banks.
Mary looked quietly up into the animated face, and glanced at his companion also before replying. Then she said quietly—
“No, my master; Mistress Wilson is not now here.”
“Then what name hath she?”
“I cry you mercy, Master; I have no time to tarry.”
The grave man in the corner gave a grim smile as Mary turned away.
“You took not much by that motion, Malledge,” he said in a low tone.
“I took a good deal by the former,” replied Malledge, with a laugh. “Beside, I lacked it not; I wis well the name of my useful friend that is now gone her way. I did but ask to draw on more talk. But one matter I have not yet.”
These words were spoken in an undertone, audible only to the person to whom they were addressed; and the speaker turned back to join in the general conversation. But before they had obtained any further information, the well-known sounds of the hunt came through the open door, and the whole company turned forth to see the hunters and hounds go by. Most of them did not return, but dispersed in the direction of their various homes, and from the few who did nothing was to be drawn.
John Banks walked away with Nicholas White. “Saw you those twain?” he asked, when they had left the White Hart a little way behind them. “The strange men? Ay, I saw them.”