“See it be so,” replied the knight; “remember Mistress Alice often walks in the Chase. And now, fill round, and fill too, a cup to thyself to overred thy fear, as mad Will has it. Tush, man, Phœbe will do well enough—she only screamed and ran, that thou might’st have the pleasure to help her. Mind what thou dost, and do not go spilling the wine after that fashion.—Come, here is a health to our wanderer, who has come to us again.”
“None will pledge it more willingly than I,” said the disguised Prince, unconsciously assuming an importance which the character he personated scarce warranted; but Sir Henry, who had become fond of the supposed page, with all his peculiarities, imposed only a moderate rebuke upon his petulance. “Thou art a merry, good-humoured youth, Louis,” he said, “but it is a world to see how the forwardness of the present generation hath gone beyond the gravity and reverence which in my youth was so regularly observed towards those of higher rank and station—I dared no more have given my own tongue the rein, when there was a doctor of divinity in company, than I would have dared to have spoken in church in service time.”
“True, sir,” said Albert, hastily interfering; “but Master Kerneguy had the better right to speak at present, that I have been absent on his business as well as my own, have seen several of his friends, and bring him important intelligence.”
Charles was about to rise and beckon Albert aside, naturally impatient to know what news he had procured, or what scheme of safe escape was now decreed for him. But Dr. Rochecliffe twitched his cloak, as a hint to him to sit still, and not show any extraordinary motive for anxiety, since, in case of a sudden discovery of his real quality, the violence of Sir Henry Lee’s feelings might have been likely to attract too much attention.
Charles, therefore, only replied, as to the knight’s stricture, that he had a particular title to be sudden and unceremonious in expressing his thanks to Colonel Lee—that gratitude was apt to be unmannerly—finally, that he was much obliged to Sir Henry for his admonition; and that quit Woodstock when he would, “he was sure to leave it a better man than he came there.”
His speech was of course ostensibly directed towards the father; but a glance at Alice assured her that she had her full share in the compliment.
“I fear,” he concluded, addressing Albert, “that you come to tell us our stay here must be very short.”
“A few hours only,” said Albert—“just enough for needful rest for ourselves and our horses. I have procured two which are good and tried. But Doctor Rochecliffe broke faith with me. I expected to have met some one down at Joceline’s hut, where I left the horses; and finding no person, I was delayed an hour in littering them down myself, that they might be ready for to-morrow’s work—for we must be off before day.”
“I—I—intended to have sent Tomkins—but—but”—hesitated the Doctor, “I”—
“The roundheaded rascal was drunk, or out of the way, I presume,” said Albert. “I am glad of it—you may easily trust him too far.”