"Why, the lady had certainly better keep her word," answered Sir Osborne, with a smile; "but you know, my good old friend, that I cannot judge of the circumstances."
"Ay, true; I forgot," answered the other. "She must go, I am afraid, though she knows what the man is, and dislikes him as much as any one----"
At this moment the chamberlain entered, with Lady Constance's woman, announcing that the tapestry chamber was now warmed and lighted; and the young lady left them, with many apologies to Sir Osborne for depriving him of his apartment.
"I warrant you, madam," said Tim Chamberlain, "his worship will be well lodged; for 'tis but the next room to that he had, and 'tis all as good, bating the tapestry."
"I am a soldier, lady," said Sir Osborne, "and not much accustomed to tapestry to my chamber, without it be the blue hangings of the sky, spangled with the starry broidery of heaven; but in truth I wish they had given me but a tramper's garret, that I might at least have had some merit in giving up the room."
As the honest clothier, Jekin Groby, who was little heedful of ceremony, still sat by the fire, though apparently dipped deeply in the Lethean stream of an afternoon's doze, the conversation of Sir Osborne Maurice with his old tutor could not be so private as they could have wished, especially as the cook and the chamberlain were bustling about laying forth a table for the rere-supper, and two or three lacqueys who had accompanied the litter of Lady Constance were running in and out, endeavouring to make as much noise as possible about nothing. However, they found an opportunity to appoint a place of meeting in London, to which both were journeying, and it was agreed that the first arrived should there wait for the other. Many questions concerning the state of England did Sir Osborne ask of the old man, for whom he seemed to entertain both reverence and love, and deeply did he ponder all the answers he received. Often also did the tutor look anxiously in the face of the young knight, and often did Sir Osborne return it with the same kind of hesitating glance, as if there were some subject on which they both wished to speak, yet doubted whether to begin.
At length Sir Osborne spoke out, more to the clergyman's thoughts than his words. "We will talk of all that hereafter in London," said he; "'twere too long to expose now. But, tell me one thing: know you, my good father, a celebrated man called in Italy Cesario il dotto? Is he to be trusted? For I met with him to-day, when he much astonished me, and much won upon my opinion; but I knew not how far I might confide in him, though he is certainly a most extraordinary man."
"Trust your life in his hands!" exclaimed the tutor. "He is your father's best and dearest friend, and never has he ceased his efforts to serve him. We used much to dispute, for I am bound by my calling to hold his studies as evil; but certainly his knowledge was wonderful, and his intentions were good. God forgive him if he err in his opinions! as in truth he does, holding strange phantasies of many sorts of spirits, more than the church allows, with various things altogether heretical and vain. But, as I have said, trust him with your life, if it be necessary; for he is a true friend and a good man, although his knowledge and his art be altogether damnable and profane."
"'Tis strange I never heard my father name him," said Sir Osborne.
"Oh! he bore another name once," replied the tutor, "which he changed when he first gave himself to those dangerous studies that have since rendered him so famous. It is a custom among such men to abjure their name; but he had another reason, being joined in a famous conspiracy some thirty years ago."