“Nay, I mean no offence,” replied Fenwolf; “but the rumour goes that your grace and the Lady Anne are not well affected towards each other.”
“The rumour is false,” rejoined the cardinal, “and you can now contradict it on your own experience. Harkee, sirrah! where lies Tristram Lyndwood's hut?”
Fenwolf looked somewhat surprised and confused by the question.
“It lies on the other side of yonder rising ground, about half a mile hence,” he said. “But if your grace is seeking old Tristram, you will not find him. I parted with him, half-an-hour ago, on Hawk's Hill, and he was then on his way to the deer-pen at Bray Wood.”
“If I see his granddaughter Mabel, it will suffice,” rejoined the cardinal. “I am told she is a comely damsel. Is it so?”
“I am but an indifferent judge of beauty,” replied Fenwolf moodily.
“Lead my mule across this swamp, thou senseless loon,” said the cardinal, “and I will give thee my blessing.”
With a very ill grace Fenwolf complied, and conducted Wolsey to the farther side of the marsh.
“If your grace pursues the path over the hill,” he said, “and then strikes into the first opening on the right, it will bring you to the place you seek.” And, without waiting for the promised blessing, he disappeared among the trees.
On reaching the top of the hill, Wolsey descried the hut through an opening in the trees at a few hundred yards' distance. It was pleasantly situated on the brink of the lake, at the point where its width was greatest, and where it was fed by a brook that flowed into it from a large pool of water near Sunninghill.