“Thou art right, i’ faith, Hepborne,” replied Assueton; “they say walls have ears, whilst I, in good earnest, may with truth enow be said to have none for such matters, since they do irk whenever the theme of love is handled in their hearing. Yet my friendship for thee bids me listen to thy ravings, and compassion for thy disease makes me watch the progress of its symptoms, as I should do those of any other fever. From all thou hast said, then, I would gather that thou wouldst fain loiter off another day or two, to catch fresh smiles and deeper wounds from the Lady Eleanore. Is’t not so, Hepborne?”
“In truth, Assueton,” replied Sir Patrick, “her whole deportment towards me last night hath buoyed me up with hope, yea, and hath even led me to flatter myself that I am not indifferent to her, Scot though I be. At so critical a period, then, I cannot go, my dear Assueton; and I am sure thy good nature will never allow thee to abandon thy friend in the crisis of his distemper.”
“No, Hepborne,” said Assueton, laughing, “I shall certainly not be so little of a Christian knight as to abandon thee when thine estate is so dangerous. Well, then, I must wait thy time, I suppose. But parfoy I must have some rounds of the tiltyard, were it but to joust at the quintaine, or Blanche-etoile and I too will lose our occupation. Wilt thou not take a turn with me for exercise? But soft—I need not talk to thee of any such thing, for yonder comes the cause of thy malady.”
“By St. Dennis, it is she indeed!” exclaimed Hepborne: “that is the very mantle she wore. But who is that cavalier [[73]]on whose arm she hangs so freely?” added he with a jealous tone and air.
“St. Genevieve! but he is a tall, proper, handsome knight,” said Assueton.
“Pshaw?” said Hepborne pettishly, “I see nothing handsome about him; meseems he hath the air of a sturdy swineherd.”
“Is not that the Lady Eleanore de Selby?” inquired Assueton of a sentinel who walked on the ramparts at some little distance from where the knights then stood.
“Ay, in truth, it is she,” replied the man, stopping to look at her.
“And who may yonder knight be with whom she holds converse?” demanded Hepborne eagerly.
“By the mass, I know not, Sir Knight,” replied the man as he turned to tread back his measured pace; “I never saw him before, that I knows on.”