"It is, indeed, a terrible night," said his old friend, "for such frail creatures as womankind to be out. There is nothing, William, that I thank God for more, amongst all the blessings he has showered upon me, than for not making me a woman."
"And yet, my dear sir," replied William Seymour, "you were always a most devoted admirer and humble servant of the fair."
"At a respectful distance, William, at a respectful distance," said the old knight, smiling. "When I was of your age, it is true, I had some impulses of matrimony upon me, which, like other diseases of children, by a strong constitution and good management, I got over easily."
"Nay," cried William Seymour, "surely you do not call love a disease."
"Just as much the disease of youth," answered Sir Harry, with that slight touch of sarcasm in his look which we have already noticed--"just as much a disease of youth as measles, or chin-cough, or mumps amongst children, or the distemper amongst dogs. True, it sometimes attacks us in mature age, and even in later life; but the cases are rare, and then it goes hard with the patient. Take care of thyself, my dear boy. Thou art just about the age to catch it; but if ever you do, come to me, and I will be your physician. Ha! Lakyn. Bring them in, bring them in! Show that pretty maiden to her mistress's chamber. Is the horse much hurt?"
"Both his knees as full of holes as a beggar's coat, Sir Harry," replied the old man.
"That is bad, that is bad," said Sir Harry West. "Have them well bathed with hot water, Lakyn; then take a gill of Bordeaux wine, an ounce of salt, and a little sweet oil to anoint them with."
"I know, I know, Sir Harry," answered the man. "'Tis a marvellous receipt; but this horse is a mighty deal worse than the grey gelding."
Thus saying he withdrew, taking with him to the buttery the two servants of the Lady Arabella, with the hospitable design of comforting each with a cup of humming ale; and the conversation was renewed between Sir Harry West and his young friend, much in the same strain as before, till the lady herself made her appearance in the old hall.
She was somewhat paler than usual, and her step had less of its buoyant lightness, as she was led by her good host with ceremonious respect to a chair by the fire. She owned, too, that she felt somewhat bruised with her fall, and expressed her determination soon to retire to rest.