Kate looked in his face to see if he meant it, and then slowly drew out her purse. The warmth of Ivo’s friendship, ten minutes old at the most, rather staggered her. But the ear-rings had taken her fancy, and she was also, though less, desirous to possess the holy relic. She poured out into the palm of her hand various pence, halfpence, and farthings, and began endeavouring to reckon up the threepence; a difficult task for a girl utterly ignorant of figures.
“You leave me count it,” suggested the little packman. “I will not cheat you—no, no! How could I, wid de blessed relic in mine hand? One, two, free. Dere! I put in de rings in your ears? ah, dey make you look beautiful, beautiful! De widow lady, I see her not when I have my pack in hall. She is well?”
“What widow lady, trow?” said Kate, feeling the first ear-ring glide softly into her ear.
“Ah, I have afore been here. I see a widow lady at de window. Why come she not to hall?—Oh, how fair you shall be! you shall every eye charm!—She is here no more—yes?”
“Well, ay—there is a widow lady dwelleth here,” said Kate, offering the other ear to her beguiler, just as Norman Hylton came up to them; “but she is a prisoner, and—hush! haste you, now, or I must run without them.”
“Dat shall you not,” said Ivo, quickly slipping the second ear-ring into its place. “Ah, how lovesome should you be, under dat bush by the gate, that hath de yellow flowers, when de sun was setting, and all golden behind you! Keep well de holy relic; it shall bring you good.”
And with a significant look, and a glance upwards at the house, Ivo shouldered his pack, and turned away.
The mercer had not seemed anxious to do business with the household. Perhaps he felt that his wares were scarcely within their means. He sat quietly in the gateway until the jeweller had finished his chaffering, when he rose and walked out beside him. The two packs were carefully strapped on the waiting mules, which were held by the lad, and the party marched down the slope from the gateway.
“What bought you with your holy relic and your ear-rings, Ivo?” asked the mercer, with a rather satirical glance at his companion, when they were well out of hearing. “Aught that was worth them?”
“I bought the news that our Lady abideth hither,” was the grave reply; “and it was cheap, at the cost of a scrap of tin and another of glass, and an inch or twain of thread out of your pack. If yon maid have but wit to be under the shrub by the gate at sunset, I shall win more of her. But she’s but a poor brain, or I err. Howbeit, I’ve had my ear-rings’ worth. They cost but a halfpenny. Can you see aught from here? Your eyes be sharper than mine.”