long enough in my shop to
know that a blow will breed a brawl; that a dirk will cut the skin as
fast as a needle pierces leather; that I love peace, though I never
feared war, and care not which side of the causeway my daughter and I
walk upon so we may keep our road in peace and quietness?"

Conachar excused himself as zealous for his master's honour, yet was
scarce able to pacify the old citizen.

"What have we to do with honour?" said Simon Glover. "If thou wouldst
remain in my service, thou must think of honesty, and leave honour to
the swaggering fools who wear steel at their heels and iron on their
shoulders. If you wish to wear and use such garniture, you are welcome,
but it shall not be in my house or in my company."

Conachar seemed rather to kindle at this rebuke than to submit to it.
But a sign from Catharine, if that slight raising of her little finger
was indeed a sign, had more effect than the angry reproof of his master;
and the youth laid aside the military air which seemed natural to him,
and relapsed into the humble follower of a quiet burgher.

Meantime the little party were overtaken by a tall young man wrapped in
a cloak, which obscured or muffled a part of his face--a practice often
used by the gallants of the time, when they did not wish to be known, or
were abroad in quest of adventures. He seemed, in short, one who might
say to the world around him: "I desire, for the present, not to be known
or addressed in my own character; but, as I am answerable to myself
alone for my actions, I wear my incognito but for form's sake, and care
little whether you see through it or not."

He came on the right side of Catharine, who had hold of her father's
arm, and slackened his pace as if joining their party.

"Good even to you, goodman."

"The same to your worship, and thanks. May I pray you to pass on? Our
pace is too slow for that of your lordship, our company too mean for
that of your father's son."

"My father's son can best judge of that, old man. I have business to
talk of with you and with my fair St. Catharine here, the loveliest and
most obdurate saint in the calendar."

"With deep reverence, my lord," said the old man, "I would remind you
that this is good St. Valentine's Eve, which is no time for business,
and that I can have your worshipful commands by a serving man as early
as it pleases you to send them."

"There is no time like the present," said the persevering youth, whose
rank se