“It is,” said Perrote; “and thou art Ivo filz Jehan?”
“I am Ivo filz Jehan, dat man calls Ivo le Breton. I go from Cornwall, where dwell my countrymen, right up to de Scottish border. And how comes it, den, if a poor man may ask, dat I find here, in de heart of England, a Breton damsel of family?”
Lady Foljambe was in an agony. She would have given her best gold chain for the little Breton jeweller to have kept away from Hazelwood. If he had any sort of penetration, another minute might reveal the secret hitherto so jealously guarded, that his Sovereign’s missing mother was a prisoner there. Her misery was the greater because she could not feel at all sure of Perrote, whom she strongly suspected of more loyalty to her mistress than to King Edward in her heart, though she had not shown it by any outward action. Perrote knew the direction of Lady Foljambe’s thoughts as well as if she had spoken them. She answered very calmly, and with a smile.
“May Breton damsels not tarry in strange lands, as well as Breton pedlars? I have divers friends in England.”
“Surely, surely!” said the pedlar, hastily, perceiving that he had transgressed against Lady Foljambe’s pleasure. “Only, if so poor man may say it, it is full pleasant to see face dat man know in strange land. Madame, would it please your Ladyship to regard de alners?”
Lady Foljambe was only too glad to turn Ivo’s attention back to the alners. She bought six for presents—they were a favourite form of gift; and picked out twenty buttons of silver-gilt, stamped with an eagle. Mrs Margaret also selected a rosary, of coral set in silver, to help her in saying her prayers, for which article, in her eyes of the first necessity, she gave 33 shillings 4 pence, and for a minute enamelled image of the Virgin and Child, in a little tabernacle or case of silver filagree, of Italian work, she paid five pounds. This was to be set before her on the table and prayed to. Mrs Margaret would not have put it quite in that plain form of words, for no idolater will ever admit that he addresses the piece of wood or stone; but it was what she really did without admitting it. Alas for the worshipper whose god has to be carried about, and requires dusting like any other ornament! “They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them.”
Perrote bought an ivory comb of Ivo, which cost her three shillings, for old acquaintance sake; Marabel purchased six silver buttons in the form of a lamb, for which she paid 8 shillings 9 pence; Agatha invested four shillings in a chaplet of pearls; while Amphillis, whose purse was very low, and had never been otherwise, contented herself with a sixpenny casket. Ivo, however, was well satisfied, and packed up his goods with a radiant face.
When the two itinerant tradesmen had shouldered their packs, and had gone forth, Lady Foljambe hastily summoned her husband’s squire. She was not sufficiently high in dignity to have a squire of her own.
“Prithee, keep watch of yon little jeweller packman,” said she, uneasily. “Mark whither he goeth, and see that he hold no discourse with any of the household, without it be to trade withal. I desire to know him clear of the vicinage ere the dark falleth.”
Norman Hylton bowed in answer, and went out.