inquired the dame soon after, with an air of assumed carelessness.
"He returned an hour only ere I departed."
Another pause ensued.
"And his son Thomas, comes he back from the Pudsays of Bolton? Does the gentle Florence[59] look on him kindly, or is the wedding yet delayed?"
"I know not," was the brief reply. After a short pause he continued—"The wanderer has left Bolton, I learn, and, 'tis said, he bides at Whalley."
Here he cast a furtive look at the domestics, and then at his wife, as though wishful to ascertain if others had understood this intimation.
"Nay, some do boldly affirm that he has been seen i' these very woods," continued he, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Which Heaven forefend!" said the wary dame. "I would not that he should draw us down with him to the same gulf wherein his fortune is o'erwhelmed. No luck that woman ever brought him from o'er sea, and now she's gone"—
"They say that she hath escaped to Flanders," said Oliver, hastily interrupting her.
"I wish he had been so fortunate," said the dame; "what says our cousin Talbot?"