He was a slight, elegant young man, dressed with great splendour of apparel, and possessed of that sort of calm, easy self-possession, and gay, nonchalant bearing, that made the knight instantly conceive a violent inclination to cut his throat.
"Good morrow, my fair cousin!" cried he, advancing: "good morrow, gentles all; God gi'ye good morrow, Mrs. Margaret," to the waiting woman; "what, have you been standing there ever since I left you yesterday?" (The woman tossed her head pettishly, much to the young lord's amusement.) "Gad! you must do like the hens, then: stand upon one leg while you rest the other. But say, my fair cousin, how dost thou do?"
"I am not well, my lord," replied the lady, "at least, so Dr. Butts would fain have me believe, and he says I must have quiet; so, by your leave, I will not have you quarrel with my woman, Margaret, as you did yesterday."
"'Faith, not I," answered he; "I love her dearly, bless the mark! But cousin, his reverend grace the cardinal commends him, by your humble slave, to your most sublime beauty, and adviseth (that is, you know, commandeth) that you should betake yourself, for change of air (which means for his pleasure and purposes), to the court at Greenwich, to which you are invited by our royal mistress and queen. And if it seemeth fit to you (which would say, whether you like it or not) he will have his barge prepared for you to-morrow at noon."
"Present my thanks unto the very reverend father," replied Lady Constance, "and say that I will willingly be ready at the hour he names."
"Nay, if you are so sweetly obedient to all his commands," said Lord Darby, more seriously, "'faith, Constance, our plan of yesterday will fall to the ground; for I cannot be rude enough to take it all on myself." Then darting off into a thousand other subjects, the young peer laughed, and spoke with light facility of various indifferent matters, while Dr. Butts looked on, keenly observing all that passed; and Sir Osborne bent his eyes sternly upon the ground, biting his lip and playing with the hilt of his sword, more irritated, perhaps, with the confident gaiety of his rival than he would have been with a more serious and enthusiastic passion, and certainly not appearing to advantage where he wished most to please.
"That sword, I think, must be of Spanish mounting," said Lord Darby, at length turning calmly towards the knight.
"Sir!" replied Sir Osborne, raising his eyes to his face.
"I asked whether that sword was not mounted in Spain, sir knight?" said Lord Darby, quietly. "Will you let me look at it?" and he held out his hand.
"I am not in the habit, my lord," replied Sir Osborne, "of giving my weapon out of my own hands; but in answer to your question, it was mounted in Spain."