Mr Whitstable was looking on, with eyes that saw.
“I came but now, and have left all well, God be thanked,” said Hans. “I have not yet eaten, for I wished to see you first. I will now go and break bread, and we can meet in the evening, when you are at large.”
There was a momentary look of extreme disappointment, and then Aubrey said—
“That is right, as you alway are. Where meet we? under West Gate?”
Mr Whitstable spoke. “Methinks, Mr Louvaine, it were pity to snatch the crust from an hungry man. Go you now with your brother, until he make an end of his supper; then return here in time to make up accounts and close. If this gentleman be the steady and sober man that his looks and your words promise, you can bring him hither to your chamber for the night.”
“I thank you right heartily, Master. He is sober as Mr Vice-Chancellor, and good as an angel,” said Aubrey.
Hans followed him, with an amused look, to the Golden Lion, where they supped on chicken and Banbury cakes, and Aubrey heard all the news—the one item excepted which Hans had come especially to tell. The tongues went fast, but no sooner had the hour rung out from the clock of Saint Ebbe’s than Aubrey sprang up and said he must return.
“Thou canst wander forth for an hour, only lose not thyself,” he said to Hans, “and when my work is done, I will join thee beneath the arch of West Gate.”
Hans obeyed with amused pleasure. This was an altered Aubrey. When had he cared to keep promises and be in time for work? They met presently under West Gate, and Aubrey played cicerone until dusk set in, when he took Hans to his own quiet little chamber at the bookseller’s shop. It was very plainly furnished, and Hans quickly saw that on the drawers lay a Bible which bore evidence of being used.
“Thou little wist,” said Hans affectionately, when they were thus alone, “how glad I am to see thee, Aubrey, and to perceive thy good welfare in this place.”