"Not farther than one might stride ere breakfast," was the reply, but in a low, and, it seemed, a hasty tone, as though impatient of being questioned, and preferring to remain unnoticed.
The tapster's instincts were still in operation. With the true spirit of his calling, he inquired—
"From the army, sir?"
"Ay, from the Grand Turk, an' thou wilt."
"The king, they say, hath a fairer word for the dames than for those stout hearts who won him his crown," said the victualler, seemingly conversant in the common rumours that were abroad. "The sparks about court," continued he, "do ruffle it bravely among the buxom dames and their beauteous"——Here his daughter's bright image came suddenly upon his recollection, and the old man wept.
"Why dost weep, old man?" inquired his guest.
"Alas! I had a daughter once, a match fit for the bravest galliard that sun e'er shown upon. She was the wonder and dismay of all that looked on her. She loved a soldier dearly, and her mouth would purse and play, and her eye would glisten at a cap and plume; and yet the veriest prude in all Christendom was not more discreet."
"Mayhap her sweetheart was a soldier, and abroad at the wars; so that these were but the outgoings of hope and expectation for his return."
"Her sweetheart, marry! she had once—but—he was ta'en from us. The young heir of Waddow, as we always called him, at the hall yonder, was her true love; but one night, seven long bitter years back, the flood swept him away: we never saw him again, but Isabel's hope was for ever blighted!"
"And the body—was it not found?"