by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XII.
Ah me! the flower and blossom of your house, The wind hath blown away to other towers. --JOANNA BAILLIE'S FAMILY LEGEND.
The ancient seat of Lidcote Hall was situated near the village ofthe same name, and adjoined the wild and extensive forest of Exmoor,plentifully stocked with game, in which some ancient rights belonging tothe Robsart family entitled Sir Hugh to pursue his favourite amusementof the chase. The old mansion was a low, venerable building, occupyinga considerable space of ground, which was surrounded by a deep moat. Theapproach and drawbridge were defended by an octagonal tower, of ancientbrickwork, but so clothed with ivy and other creepers that it wasdifficult to discover of what materials it was constructed. The anglesof this tower were each decorated with a turret, whimsically variousin form and in size, and, therefore, very unlike the monotonous stonepepperboxes which, in modern Gothic architecture, are employed forthe same purpose. One of these turrets was square, and occupied asa clock-house. But the clock was now standing still; a circumstancepeculiarly striking to Tressilian, because the good old knight, amongother harmless peculiarities, had a fidgety anxiety about the exactmeasurement of time, very common to those who have a great deal of thatcommodity to dispose of, and find it lie heavy upon their hands--justas we see shopkeepers amuse themselves with taking an exact account oftheir stock at the time there is least demand for it.
The entrance to the courtyard of the old mansion lay through an archway,surmounted by the foresaid tower; but the drawbridge was down, and oneleaf of the iron-studded folding-doors stood carelessly open. Tressilianhastily rode over the drawbridge, entered the court, and began tocall loudly on the domestics by their names. For some time he was onlyanswered by the echoes and the howling of the hounds, whose kennel layat no great distance from the mansion, and was surrounded by the samemoat. At length Will Badger, the old and favourite attendant of theknight, who acted alike as squire of his body and superintendent of hissports, made his appearance. The stout, weather-beaten forester showedgreat signs of joy when he recognized Tressilian.
"Lord love you," he said, "Master Edmund, be it thou in flesh and fell?Then thou mayest do some good on Sir Hugh, for it passes the wit ofman--that is, of mine own, and the curate's, and Master Mumblazen's--todo aught wi'un."
"Is Sir Hugh then worse since I went away, Will?" demanded Tressilian.
"For worse in body--no; he is much better," replied the domestic; "buthe is clean mazed as it were--eats and drinks as he was wont--but sleepsnot, or rather wakes not, for he is ever in a sort of twilight, that isneither sleeping nor waking. Dame Swineford thought it was like the deadpalsy. But no, no, dame, said I, it is the heart, it is the heart."
"Can ye not stir his mind to any pastimes?" said Tressilian.
"He is clean and quite off his sports," said Will Badger; "hath neithertouched backgammon or shovel-board, nor looked on the big book ofharrowtry wi' Master Mumblazen. I let the clock run down, thinking themissing the bell might somewhat move him--for you know, Master Edmund,he was particular in counting time--but he never said a word on't, soI may e'en set the old chime a-towling again. I made bold to tread onBungay's tail too, and you know what a round rating that would ha' costme once a-day; but he minded the poor tyke's whine no more than a madgehowlet whooping down the chimney--so the case is beyond me."
"Thou shalt tell me the rest within doors, Will. Meanwhile, let thisperson be ta'en to the buttery, and used with respect. He is a man ofart."
"White art or black art, I would," said Will Badger, "that he had anyart which could help us.--Here, Tom Butler, look to the man of art;--andsee that he steals none of thy spoons, lad," he added in a whisper tothe butler, who showed himself at a low window, "I have known as honesta faced fellow have art enough to do that."
He then ushered Tressilian into a low parlour, and went, at his desire,to see in what state his master was, lest the sudden return of hisdarling pupil and proposed son-in-law should affect him too strongly.He returned immediately, and said that Sir Hugh was dozing in hiselbow-chair, but that Master Mumblazen would acquaint Master Tressilianthe instant he awaked.
"But it is chance if he knows you," said the huntsman, "for he hasforgotten the name of every hound in the pack. I thought, about a weeksince, he had gotten a favourable turn. 'Saddle me old Sorrel,' said hesuddenly, after he had taken his usual night-draught out of the greatsilver grace-cup, 'and take the hounds to Mount Hazelhurst to-morrow.'Glad men were we all, and out we had him in the morning, and he rode tocover as usual, with never a word spoken but that the wind was south,and the scent would lie. But ere we had uncoupled'the hounds, he beganto stare round him, like a man that wakes suddenly out of a dream--turnsbridle, and walks back to Hall again, and leaves us to hunt at leisureby ourselves, if we listed."
"You tell a heavy tale, Will," replied Tressilian; "but God must helpus--there is no aid in man."
"Then you bring us no news of young Mistress Amy? But what need Iask--your brow tells the story. Ever I hoped that if any man could orwould track her, it must be you. All's over and lost now. But if ever Ihave that Varney within reach of a flight-shot, I will bestow a forkedshaft on him; and that I swear by salt and bread."
As he spoke, the door opened, and Master Mumblazen appeared--a withered,thin, elderly gentleman, with a cheek like a winter apple, and hisgrey hair partly concealed by a small, high hat, shaped like a cone,or rather like such a strawberry-basket as London fruiterers exhibit attheir windows. He was too sententious a person to waste words on meresalutation; so, having welcomed Tressilian with a nod and a shake of thehand, he beckoned him to follow to Sir Hugh's great chamber, which thegood knight usually inhabited. Will Badger followed, unasked, anxious tosee whether his master would be relieved from his state of apathy by thearrival of Tressilian.
In a long, low parlour, amply furnished with implements of the chase,and with silvan trophies, by a massive stone chimney, over which hunga sword and suit of armour somewhat obscured by neglect, sat Sir HughRobsart of Lidcote, a man of large size, which had been only kept withinmoderate compass by the constant use of violent exercise, It seemed toTressilian that the lethargy, under which his old friend appeared tolabour, had, even during his few weeks' absence, added bulk to hisperson--at least it had obviously diminished the vivacity of his eye,which, as they entered, first followed Master Mumblazen slowly to alarge oaken desk, on which a ponderous volume lay open, and then rested,as if in uncertainty, on the stranger who had entered along with him.The curate, a grey-headed clergyman, who had been a confessor in thedays of Queen Mary, sat with a book in his hand in another recess in theapartment. He, too, signed a mournful greeting to Tressilian, and laidhis book aside, to watch the effect his appearance should produce on theafflicted old man.
As Tressilian, his own eyes filling fast with tears, approached moreand more nearly to the father of his betrothed bride, Sir Hugh'sintelligence seemed to revive. He sighed heavily, as one who awakensfrom a state of stupor; a slight convulsion passed over his features;he opened his arms without speaking a word, and, as Tressilian threwhimself into them, he folded him to his bosom.
"There is something left to live for yet," were the first words heuttered; and while he spoke, he gave vent to his feelings in a paroxysmof weeping, the tears chasing each other down his sunburnt cheeks andlong white beard.
"I ne'er thought to have thanked God to see my master weep," said WillBadger; "but now I do, though I am like to weep for company."
"I will ask thee no questions," said the old knight; "noquestions--none, Edmund. Thou hast not found her--or so found her, thatshe were better lost."
Tressilian was unable to reply otherwise than by putting his handsbefore his face.
"It is enough--it is enough. But do not thou weep for her, Edmund. Ihave cause to weep, for she was my daughter; thou hast cause to rejoice,that she did not become thy wife.--Great God! thou knowest best what isgood for us. It was my nightly prayer that I should see Amy and Edmundwedded,--had it been grant
ed, it had now been gall added to bitterness."
"Be comforted, my friend," said the curate, addressing Sir Hugh, "itcannot be that the daughter of all our hopes and affections is the vilecreature you would bespeak her."
"Oh, no," replied Sir Hugh impatiently, "I were wrong to name broadlythe base thing she is become--there is some new court name for it, Iwarrant me. It is honour enough for the daughter of an old Devonshireclown to be the leman of a gay courtier--of Varney too--of Varney, whosegrandsire was relieved by my father, when his fortune was broken, atthe battle of--the battle of--where Richard was slain--out on mymemory!--and I warrant none of you will help me--"
"The battle of Bosworth," said Master Mumblazen--"stricken betweenRichard Crookback and Henry Tudor, grandsire of the Queen that now is,PRIMO HENRICI SEPTIMI; and in the year one thousand four hundred andeighty-five, POST CHRISTUM NATUM."
"Ay, even so," said the old knight; "every child knows it. But my poorhead forgets all it should remember, and remembers only what it wouldmost willingly forget. My brain has been at fault, Tressilian, almostever since thou hast been away, and even yet it hunts counter."
"Your worship," said the good clergyman, "had better retire to yourapartment, and try to sleep for a little space. The physician lefta composing draught; and our Great Physician has commanded us to useearthly means, that we may be strengthened to sustain the trials Hesends us."
"True, true, old friend," said Sir Hugh; "and we will bear our trialsmanfully--we have lost but a woman.--See, Tressilian,"--he drew fromhis bosom a long ringlet of glossy hair,--"see this lock! I tell thee,Edmund, the very night she disappeared, when she bid me good even, asshe was wont, she hung about my neck, and fondled me more than usual;and I, like an old fool, held her by this lock, until she took herscissors, severed it, and left it in my hand--as all I was ever to seemore of her!"
Tressilian was unable to reply, well judging what a complication offeelings must have crossed the bosom of the unhappy fugitive at thatcruel moment. The clergyman was about to speak, but Sir Hugh interruptedhim.
"I know what you would say, Master Curate,--After all, it is but a lockof woman's tresses; and by woman, shame, and sin, and death came intoan innocent world.--And learned Master Mumblazen, too, can say scholarlythings of their inferiority."
"C'EST L'HOMME," said Master Mumblazen, "QUI SE BAST, ET QUI CONSEILLE."
"True," said Sir Hugh, "and we will bear us, therefore, like men whohave both mettle and wisdom in us.--Tressilian, thou art as welcomeas if thou hadst brought better news. But we have spoken too longdry-lipped.--Amy, fill a cup of wine to Edmund, and another to me." Theninstantly recollecting that he called upon her who could not hear,he shook his head, and said to the clergyman, "This grief is to mybewildered mind what the church of Lidcote is to our park: we may loseourselves among the briers and thickets for a little space, but fromthe end of each avenue we see the old grey steeple and the grave of myforefathers. I would I were to travel that road tomorrow!"
Tressilian and the curate joined in urging the exhausted old man to layhimself to rest, and at length prevailed. Tressilian remained by hispillow till he saw that slumber at length sunk down on him, and thenreturned to consult with the curate what steps should be adopted inthese unhappy circumstances.
They could not exclude from these deliberations Master MichaelMumblazen; and they admitted him the more readily, that besides whathopes they entertained from his sagacity, they knew him to be so greata friend to taciturnity, that there was no doubt of his keeping counsel.He was an old bachelor, of good family, but small fortune, and distantlyrelated to the House of Robsart; in virtue of which connection, LidcoteHall had been honoured with his residence for the last twenty years. Hiscompany was agreeable to Sir Hugh, chiefly on account of his profoundlearning, which, though it only related to heraldry and genealogy, withsuch scraps of history as connected themselves with these subjects,was precisely of a kind to captivate the good old knight; besides theconvenience which he found in having a friend to appeal to when hisown memory, as frequently happened, proved infirm and played him falseconcerning names and dates, which, and all similar deficiencies, MasterMichael Mumblazen supplied with due brevity and discretion. And,indeed, in matters concerning the modern world, he often gave, in hisenigmatical and heraldic phrase, advice which was well worth attendingto, or, in Will Badger's language, started the game while others beatthe bush.
"We have had an unhappy time of it with the good knight, Master Edmund,"said the curate. "I have not suffered so much since I was torn away frommy beloved flock, and compelled to abandon them to the Romish wolves."
"That was in TERTIO MARIAE," said Master Mumblazen.
"In the name of Heaven," continued the curate, "tell us, has yourtime been better spent than ours, or have you any news of thatunhappy maiden, who, being for so many years the principal joy of thisbroken-down house, is now proved our greatest unhappiness? Have you notat least discovered her place of residence?"
"I have," replied Tressilian. "Know you Cumnor Place, near Oxford?"
"Surely," said the clergyman; "it was a house of removal for the monksof Abingdon."
"Whose arms," said Master Michael, "I have seen over a stone chimney inthe hall,--a cross patonce betwixt four martlets."
"There," said Tressilian, "this unhappy maiden resides, in company withthe villain Varney. But for a strange mishap, my sword had revenged allour injuries, as well as hers, on his worthless head."
"Thank God, that kept thine hand from blood-guiltiness, rash young man!"answered the curate. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I willrepay it. It were better study to free her from the villain's nets ofinfamy."
"They are called, in heraldry, LAQUEI AMORIS, or LACS D'AMOUR," saidMumblazen.
"It is in that I require your aid, my friends," said Tressilian. "Iam resolved to accuse this villain, at the very foot of the throne, offalsehood, seduction, and breach of hospitable laws. The Queen shallhear me, though the Earl of Leicester, the villain's patron, stood ather right hand."
"Her Grace," said the curate, "hath set a comely example of continenceto her subjects, and will doubtless do justice on this inhospitablerobber. But wert thou not better apply to the Earl of Leicester, in thefirst place, for justice on his servant? If he grants it, thou dost savethe risk of making thyself a powerful adversary, which will certainlychance if, in the first instance, you accuse his master of the horse andprime favourite before the Queen."
"My mind revolts from your counsel," said Tressilian. "I cannot brookto plead my noble patron's cause the unhappy Amy's cause--before any onesave my lawful Sovereign. Leicester, thou wilt say, is noble. Be it so;he is but a subject like ourselves, and I will not carry my plaint tohim, if I can do better. Still, I will think on what thou hast said; butI must have your assistance to persuade the good Sir Hugh to make me hiscommissioner and fiduciary in this matter, for it is in his name I mustspeak, and not in my own. Since she is so far changed as to dote uponthis empty profligate courtier, he shall at least do her the justicewhich is yet in his power."
"Better she died CAELEBS and SINE PROLE," said Mumblazen, with moreanimation than he usually expressed, "than part, PER PALE, the noblecoat of Robsart with that of such a miscreant!"
"If it be your object, as I cannot question," said the clergyman, "tosave, as much as is yet possible, the credit of this unhappy youngwoman, I repeat, you should apply, in the first instance, to the Earlof Leicester. He is as absolute in his household as the Queen in herkingdom, and if he expresses to Varney that such is his pleasure, herhonour will not stand so publicly committed."
"You are right, you are right!" said Tressilian eagerly, "and I thankyou for pointing out what I overlooked in my haste. I little thoughtever to have besought grace of Leicester; but I could kneel to the proudDudley, if doing so could remove one shade of shame from this unhappydamsel. You will assist me then to procure the necessary powers from SirHugh Robsart?"
The curate assured him of his assistance, and the herald no
dded assent.
"You must hold yourselves also in readiness to testify, in case you arecalled upon, the openhearted hospitality which our good patron exercisedtowards this deceitful traitor, and the solicitude with which helaboured to seduce his unhappy daughter."
"At first," said the clergyman, "she did not, as it seemed to me, muchaffect his company; but latterly I saw them often together."
"SEIANT in the parlour," said Michael Mumblazen, "and PASSANT in thegarden."
"I once came on them by chance," said the priest, "in the South wood,in a spring evening. Varney was muffled in a russet cloak, so that I sawnot his face. They separated hastily, as they heard me rustle amongstthe leaves; and I observed she turned her head and looked long afterhim."
"With neck REGUARDANT," said the herald. "And on the day of her flight,and that was on Saint Austen's Eve, I saw Varney's groom, attired in hisliveries, hold his master's horse and Mistress Amy's palfrey, bridledand saddled PROPER, behind the wall of the churchyard."
"And now is she found mewed up in his secret place of retirement," saidTressilian. "The villain is taken in the manner, and I well wish he maydeny his crime, that I may thrust conviction down his false throat! ButI must prepare for my journey. Do you, gentlemen, dispose my patron togrant me such powers as are needful to act in his name."
So saying, Tressilian left the room.
"He is too hot," said the curate; "and I pray to God that He may granthim the patience to deal with Varney as is fitting."
"Patience and Varney," said Mumblazen, "is worse heraldry than metalupon metal. He is more false than a siren, more rapacious than agriffin, more poisonous than a wyvern, and more cruel than a lionrampant."
"Yet I doubt much," said the curate, "whether we can with propriety askfrom Sir Hugh Robsart, being in his present condition, any deed deputinghis paternal right in Mistress Amy to whomsoever--"
"Your reverence need not doubt that," said Will Badger, who entered ashe spoke, "for I will lay my life he is another man when he wakes thanhe has been these thirty days past."
"Ay, Will," said the curate, "hast thou then so much confidence inDoctor Diddleum's draught?"
"Not a whit," said Will, "because master ne'er tasted a drop on't,seeing it was emptied out by the housemaid. But here's a gentleman, whocame attending on Master Tressilian, has given Sir Hugh a draught thatis worth twenty of yon un. I have spoken cunningly with him, and abetter farrier or one who hath a more just notion of horse and dogailment I have never seen; and such a one would never be unjust to aChristian man."
"A farrier! you saucy groom--and by whose authority, pray?" said thecurate, rising in surprise and indignation; "or who will be warrant forthis new physician?"
"For authority, an it like your reverence, he had mine; and for warrant,I trust I have not been five-and-twenty years in this house withouthaving right to warrant the giving of a draught to beast or body--I whocan gie a drench, and a ball, and bleed, or blister, if need, to my veryself."
The counsellors of the house of Robsart thought it meet to carry thisinformation instantly to Tressilian, who as speedily summoned beforehim Wayland Smith, and demanded of him (in private, however) by whatauthority he had ventured to administer any medicine to Sir HughRobsart?
"Why," replied the artist, "your worship cannot but remember that I toldyou I had made more progress into my master's--I mean the learned DoctorDoboobie's--mystery than he was willing to own; and indeed half of hisquarrel and malice against me was that, besides that I got something toodeep into his secrets, several discerning persons, and particularly abuxom young widow of Abingdon, preferred my prescriptions to his."
"None of thy buffoonery, sir," said Tressilian sternly. "If thou hasttrifled with us--much more, if thou hast done aught that may prejudiceSir Hugh Robsart's health, thou shalt find thy grave at the bottom of atin-mine."
"I know too little of the great ARCANUM to convert the ore togold," said Wayland firmly. "But truce to your apprehensions, MasterTressilian. I understood the good knight's case from what Master WilliamBadger told me; and I hope I am able enough to administer a poor doseof mandragora, which, with the sleep that must needs follow, is all thatSir Hugh Robsart requires to settle his distraught brains."
"I trust thou dealest fairly with me, Wayland?" said Tressilian.
"Most fairly and honestly, as the event shall show," replied the artist."What would it avail me to harm the poor old man for whom you areinterested?--you, to whom I owe it that Gaffer Pinniewinks is not evennow rending my flesh and sinews with his accursed pincers, and probingevery mole in my body with his sharpened awl (a murrain on the handswhich forged it!) in order to find out the witch's mark?--I trust toyoke myself as a humble follower to your worship's train, and I onlywish to have my faith judged of by the result of the good knight'sslumbers."
Wayland Smith was right in his prognostication. The sedative draughtwhich his skill had prepared, and Will Badger's confidence hadadministered, was attended with the most beneficial effects. Thepatient's sleep was long and healthful, and the poor old knight awoke,humbled indeed in thought and weak in frame, yet a much better judge ofwhatever was subjected to his intellect than he had been for some timepast. He resisted for a while the proposal made by his friends thatTressilian should undertake a journey to court, to attempt the recoveryof his daughter, and the redress of her wrongs, in so far as they mightyet be repaired. "Let her go," he said; "she is but a hawk that goesdown the wind; I would not bestow even a whistle to reclaim her." Butthough he for some time maintained this argument, he was at lengthconvinced it was his duty to take the part to which natural affectioninclined him, and consent that such efforts as could yet be madeshould be used by Tressilian in behalf of his daughter. He subscribed,therefore, a warrant of attorney, such as the curate's skill enabled himto draw up; for in those simple days the clergy were often the advisersof their flock in law as well as in gospel.
All matters were prepared for Tressilian's second departure, withintwenty-four hours after he had returned to Lidcote Hall; but onematerial circumstance had been forgotten, which was first called to theremembrance of Tressilian by Master Mumblazen. "You are going tocourt, Master Tressilian," said he; "you will please remember that yourblazonry must be ARGENT and OR--no other tinctures will pass current."The remark was equally just and embarrassing. To prosecute a suit atcourt, ready money was as indispensable even in the golden days ofElizabeth as at any succeeding period; and it was a commodity little atthe command of the inhabitants of Lidcote Hall. Tressilian was himselfpoor; the revenues of good Sir Hugh Robsart were consumed, and evenanticipated, in his hospitable mode of living; and it was finallynecessary that the herald who started the doubt should himself solve it.Master Michael Mumblazen did so by producing a bag of money, containingnearly three hundred pounds in gold and silver of various coinage, thesavings of twenty years, which he now, without speaking a syllable uponthe subject, dedicated to the service of the patron whose shelterand protection had given him the means of making this little hoard.Tressilian accepted it without affecting a moment's hesitation, and amutual grasp of the hand was all that passed betwixt them, to expressthe pleasure which the one felt in dedicating his all to such a purpose,and that which the other received from finding so material an obstacleto the success of his journey so suddenly removed, and in a manner sounexpected.
While Tressilian was making preparations for his departure earlythe ensuing morning, Wayland Smith desired to speak with him, and,expressing his hope that he had been pleased with the operation of hismedicine in behalf of Sir Hugh Robsart, added his desire to accompanyhim to court. This was indeed what Tressilian himself had several timesthought of; for the shrewdness, alertness of understanding, and varietyof resource which this fellow had exhibited during the time they hadtravelled together, had made him sensible that his assistance might beof importance. But then Wayland was in danger from the grasp of law; andof this Tressilian reminded him, mentioning something, at the same time,of the pincers of Pinniewinks and the wa
rrant of Master Justice Blindas.Wayland Smith laughed both to scorn.
"See you, sir!" said he, "I have changed my garb from that of a farrierto a serving-man; but were it still as it was, look at my moustaches.They now hang down; I will but turn them up, and dye them with atincture that I know of, and the devil would scarce know me again."
He accompanied these words with the appropriate action, and in lessthan a minute, by setting up, his moustaches and his hair, he seemeda different person from him that had but now entered the room. Still,however, Tressilian hesitated to accept his services, and the artistbecame proportionably urgent.
"I owe you life and limb," he said, "and I would fain pay a part of thedebt, especially as I know from Will Badger on what dangerous serviceyour worship is bound. I do not, indeed, pretend to be what is calleda man of mettle, one of those ruffling tear-cats who maintain theirmaster's quarrel with sword and buckler. Nay, I am even one of those whohold the end of a feast better than the beginning of a fray. But I knowthat I can serve your worship better, in such quest as yours, than anyof these sword-and-dagger men, and that my head will be worth an hundredof their hands."
Tressilian still hesitated. He knew not much of this strange fellow, andwas doubtful how far he could repose in him the confidence necessaryto render him a useful attendant upon the present emergency. Ere hehad come to a determination, the trampling of a horse was heard in thecourtyard, and Master Mumblazen and Will Badger both entered hastilyinto Tressilian's chamber, speaking almost at the same moment.
"Here is a serving-man on the bonniest grey tit I ever see'd in mylife," said Will Badger, who got the start--"having on his arm a silvercognizance, being a fire-drake holding in his mouth a brickbat, undera coronet of an Earl's degree," said Master Mumblazen, "and bearing aletter sealed of the same."
Tressilian took the letter, which was addressed "To the worshipfulMaster Edmund Tressilian, our loving kinsman--These--ride, ride,ride--for thy life, for thy life, for thy life." He then opened it, andfound the following contents:--
"MASTER TRESSILIAN, OUR GOOD FRIEND AND COUSIN, "We are at presentso ill at ease, and otherwise so unhappily circumstanced, that we aredesirous to have around us those of our friends on whose loving-kindnesswe can most especially repose confidence; amongst whom we hold our goodMaster Tressilian one of the foremost and nearest, both in good will andgood ability. We therefore pray you, with your most convenient speed, torepair to our poor lodging, at Sayes Court, near Deptford, where we willtreat further with you of matters which we deem it not fit to commitunto writing. And so we bid you heartily farewell, being your lovingkinsman to command,
"RATCLIFFE, EARL OF SUSSEX." "Send up the messenger instantly, WillBadger," said Tressilian; and as the man entered the room, he exclaimed,"Ah, Stevens, is it you? how does my good lord?"
"Ill, Master Tressilian," was the messenger's reply, "and havingtherefore the more need of good friends around him."
"But what is my lord's malady?" said Tressilian anxiously; "I heardnothing of his being ill."
"I know not, sir," replied the man; "he is very ill at ease. Theleeches are at a stand, and many of his household suspect foulpractice-witchcraft, or worse."
"What are the symptoms?" said Wayland Smith, stepping forward hastily.
"Anan?" said the messenger, not comprehending his meaning.
"What does he ail?" said Wayland; "where lies his disease?"
The man looked at Tressilian, as if to know whether he shouldanswer these inquiries from a stranger, and receiving a sign in theaffirmative, he hastily enumerated gradual loss of strength, nocturnalperspiration, and loss of appetite, faintness, etc.
"Joined," said Wayland, "to a gnawing pain in the stomach, and a lowfever?"
"Even so," said the messenger, somewhat surprised.
"I know how the disease is caused," said the artist, "and I know thecause. Your master has eaten of the manna of Saint Nicholas. I knowthe cure too--my master shall not say I studied in his laboratory fornothing."
"How mean you?" said Tressilian, frowning; "we speak of one of the firstnobles of England. Bethink you, this is no subject for buffoonery."
"God forbid!" said Wayland Smith. "I say that I know this disease, andcan cure him. Remember what I did for Sir Hugh Robsart."
"We will set forth instantly," said Tressilian. "God calls us."
Accordingly, hastily mentioning this new motive for his instantdeparture, though without alluding to either the suspicions of Stevens,or the assurances of Wayland Smith, he took the kindest leave of SirHugh and the family at Lidcote Hall, who accompanied him with prayersand blessings, and, attended by Wayland and the Earl of Sussex'sdomestic, travelled with the utmost speed towards London.