After a few more words of the same kind, Chartley moved her chair for her back to the fire, seated himself as before on the stool by her side, and, while the Arab resumed his place, pointed to the opposite side, saying to the piper, "There, sit you down, and tell us what you've seen in the forest to-night."
"Good faith, I have seen nothing," answered Sam, "for the night's dark, and I have been somewhat dark too. After I had been to the abbey for the morning dole, to show good sister Alice that I had kept my word and was quite sober, I went away to the first tavern, and, with all the pence I had collected in the fair, bought myself a stoup of small wine, and a farthing's worth of sugar. Your lordship's groat helped me wonderfully. Then, not liking the thought of a forcible division of my property, I brought my wine up here, ensconced me in the doorway of the little tower, and went on sipping till I fell asleep. When I woke, it was black night; but there was still something left in my wine-pot, and I set to again to gain courage, and to keep out the cold. When I looked abroad, however, I soon saw that somebody had lighted a fire in the court; and I crept round and round on the walls, to see who it was, saying Paters and Aves all the time, and thinking it might be the devil had done it; for he, it is said, keeps up the best fire in his house of any man."
Lord Chartley gave a meaning and merry glance to Iola; and Iola smiled in return.
"At length, seeing no one there," continued the piper, "I ventured down into the court to warm myself, when suddenly your lordship came upon me, and took me prisoner. I suppose it was my mad pipes betrayed me, for, like a chattering wife, they are always talking where they should not, unless I am careful to blow all the wind out of the bag. However, I am never much afraid of robbers, plunderers, camp-followers, or anything, for nobody meddles with a piper. You cannot have more of a cat than her skin, nor of a piper than his pipes, and neither the one nor the other is of much use to those who do not know how to handle them."
Chartley mused for a minute or two, and then said in a low tone to his fair companion:
"Do you not think, dear lady, that we could make use of this merry ribald, to communicate our situation here to those who could give us intelligence--ay, and even help in case of need. It is very sweet," he continued, tenderly, "to sit here by your side, whiling away the livelong hours of night, with one so fair and gentle. But I must not forget your comfort in my own happiness. You have passed a weary and an anxious night, and the sooner I can restore you to your friends, to tranquillity and repose, the better. I must find some other moment," he added rapidly, "brighter and calmer, to say more of myself--I think that we may use this man, who will not be stopped by the soldiery, to bear tidings of where you are----"
"Oh yes," exclaimed Iola, "let him go as quickly as possible to the abbey. My aunt will be sadly anxious about me."
"I fear that would be dangerous," replied Chartley. "Rather let him go to the woodman, tell him where we are, request him to send us information and advice, and, if possible, to communicate to the abbess, that you are quite safe. That I think is the best course to pursue."
"Perhaps it is," answered Iola; and then in a lower tone, she added, "if you can quite trust to this man--he seems a libertine and a drunkard."
"You must not judge him too harshly," replied Chartley. "Most men, especially of his class, have their peculiar vices; but, though it may seem strange, from those vices you must not imply others of a different class and character. Nay, more, there are faults which are almost always accompanied by certain better qualities; and, from what I know of the world, I am inclined to think, that this man's good faith might be better trusted than that of many a sanctimonious friar or smooth-spoken propriety-loving trader."