"Shall I hear from thee soon?" she said, in an undertone.
"Forthwith, most fairly beautiful—most gracious rare!" he replied.
Then, leaping on his horse, he dashed down the street at a mad gallop, followed closely by his groom.
Rebecca stood stupefied, gazing first at one and then at the other, till she was rudely brought to her senses by no other than Dame Goldsmith herself.
"What, Rebecca!" she exclaimed. "Hast breakfasted, woman—what?"
"Ay, aunt," Phœbe broke in, hurriedly. "Rebecca must to my chamber to tire me ere I see mine uncle. Prithee temper the fury of his homily, sweet aunt."
Taking the dame's extended hand, she suffered herself to be led within, followed by Rebecca, too amazed to speak.
On entering the street door they found themselves in a large hall, at the farther end of which a bright wood fire was burning, despite the season. A black oak table was on one side of the room against the wall, upon which were to be seen a number of earthen beakers and a great silver jug or tankard. A carved and cushioned settle stood against the opposite wall, and besides two comfortable arm-chairs at the two chimney-corners there were two or three heavy chairs of antique pattern standing here and there. The floor was covered with newly gathered fresh-smelling rushes.
A wide staircase led to the right, and to this Phœbe turned at once as though she had always lived there.
"Hast heard from my father yet?" she asked, pausing upon the first stair and addressing Dame Goldsmith.