Chapter Fifteen.
A Fight with Robbers.
Sir Thomas Gresham had been absent for some time, and his return to Antwerp was daily expected. I was busily at work at my desk, when I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs coming along the street. I looked out, and saw a party of travellers. Calling Master Clough, he and I, with others, hurried to the door. Sir Thomas led the cavalcade, with a young lady by his side. I had never, I thought, seen a more fair or graceful girl, while I admired the perfect ease with which she managed the jennet on which she rode. Who she was I scarcely dared to guess. She could scarcely be the little Aveline from whom I had parted, and yet the thought crossed me that it must be her.
Two young men followed,—one a strong, stout, broad-shouldered man, whose features were wonderfully like those of my old friend A’Dale, although somewhat concealed by beard and whisker. He formed a strong contrast to the slight, pale, sickly youth at his side. A second glance convinced me that the latter was my former playmate and companion—Richard Gresham. He seemed very sick and ill, leaning forward in his saddle, as if scarcely able to support his body. Master Clough hurried out to assist Sir Thomas to dismount, while I hastened, with one of the servants, to take the young lady’s horse. The smile she gave me, as she dropped lightly from her saddle, reminded me of Aveline.
“You do not know me, Ernst Verner,” she said; “am I so woefully changed since we parted?”
Her sweet voice sent a thrill through my heart. I had no longer any doubt that she was Aveline. Meantime A’Dale had thrown himself from his steed, and had helped Richard to the ground, giving him his arm to support him. Sir Thomas greeted me kindly.
“He has not borne the journey as well as we had hoped,” he said, looking at Richard; “but the doctors advised change of air and scene, and we trusted that a short sea-voyage, and a visit to this busy city, might benefit him. Aveline has kindly come to assist in caring for him, and I have taken your old friend Andrew A’Dale into my service.”
Poor Richard looked kindly at me as he took my hand; but he scarcely had strength, it seemed, to smile. A’Dale and I greeted each other heartily, and together we assisted our young friend up the stairs. He could not, indeed, without aid, drag himself along; but youth is buoyant, and both he and we were soon talking of what we would do when he had regained his strength. Aveline was committed to the charge of our old housekeeper—Dorothea Lipman, with whom she had some difficulty in holding conversation; Dorothea’s only language being Flemish, of which Aveline knew but little.
After a night’s rest, Richard had considerably recovered. Whenever he came into the public room, I could not help observing the devoted attention which Aveline paid him. She seemed to watch his every look, and attend to his slightest want. He, indeed, I thought, expected her to devote herself to him and to demand her services as a right, which she willingly rendered. At first this seemed but natural after the accounts Sir Thomas had given me; but I confess, when she appeared to have scarcely any time to attend to me or to anybody else, a feeling of jealousy stole over me. And yet why should I be jealous of that poor sickly lad? indeed, what right had I to expect that she would regard me in any other light than that of a humble secretary of her kind lady’s husband? I had a sincere affection, however, for Richard, and heartily wished him to recover. Mistress Aveline had always treated me with kindness, and I was not vain enough to mistake the way in which she received any little attention I was able to pay her.
Sir Thomas Gresham was constantly receiving visitors at his house. Among them came at this time Master Thomas Cecil, the son of the great minister, accompanied by his tutor, Master Windebank. He was a young, pleasant-mannered, good-tempered youth, apparently somewhat light-hearted, and inclined to amuse himself with whatever fell in his way.