"Our Norman ancestors," he said, "thought more of defence than convenience; but we have larger apartments in the main building, where Lord Chartley will always be received as an honoured guest. And now, my dear young lord," he continued, "though I grieve in some sort to be made, as it were, your jailer, yet in some sort I rejoice; for I can lighten your captivity, or, to call it by a better name, your wardship. I would fain have it as mild as may be, and, though I am responsible to the king for your person, yet I would only secure you by bolts and bars of words, and fetters of air. Give me your promise, as knight and nobleman, as you did this morning, that you will make no attempt to escape, and then roam whithersoever you will. I will set no spies upon you. You have then only to fancy yourself a guest in my poor mansion, and all the pangs of imprisonment are gone."
"A thousand thanks, my noble friend," replied Chartley. "My promise I freely give; but it were better for both you and me that your forbearance and my engagement should have a limit. Let it be from month to month. Thus, the first of every month I present myself as your prisoner, and then you can renew your kind permission if you please, or not."
"Agreed, agreed," cried Lord Calverly. "It is a marvellous good arrangement. The rooms of your friend, Sir William Arden, an exceedingly good and valiant knight, though somewhat more familiar with the battle field than with bower or hall, are immediately above you; the rooms of your own attendants below. The truckle beds in the antechamber are somewhat small, but will serve two of the knaves well enough. And now I leave you, with a warning that our repast will be upon the board within the hour.--Ha, here comes Sir William Arden across the court, conducted by my cousin John. I will tell him of our supper hour as we pass; but he does not spend much time on his apparel, I should think."
"Good faith, he is well apparelled in his own high qualities," replied Chartley, "however he be dressed. The wool of a sheep and the entrails of a silkworm make but a poor addition in my eyes to a man's own worth--but," he added, not willing that his bluff friend should be undervalued, even by one who esteemed wealth as a high quality, "the plainness of Arden's apparel is from choice and not necessity. Doubtless, you know, my lord, that in worldly wealth he is as well furnished as in qualities of heart."
"Nay, nay, I did not know it," said Lord Calverly, with a look of much interest. "I thought he was but one of the knights of your household."
"My mother's first cousin," replied Chartley, "which is the cause of his attachment to myself."
"Nay, nay, your own high merits," said Lord Calverly, with a sliding bow, and took his leave.
In a few minutes more, Sir William Arden entered Chartley's room, with a gay air.
"Well, boy," he exclaimed, "here you are a prisoner. Think yourself happy that you have not been gored by the boar's tusks. Good faith, he wounds deep where he strikes. That old fool, our host, has stopped me for five minutes in the court, with a panegyric on your merits, and looked much surprized when I told him the plain truth, to wit, that you are a foolish mad-headed boy, who will need fifty such hard lessons as you have received, before you get some grains of common sense beaten into you."
Arden threw himself on a seat in the window, as he spoke, and gazed out, little attending to Chartley's answer, which consisted but of some words of course. He remained silent, even for a minute or two after; but then, turning sharply round, he said--