he next, where a like
fate awaited him. And so, tossed about, like a drift log on the
unpitying ocean, he had found himself cast up at last in London; where,
remembering me, he had with many a rebuff sought me out, and here he
was.

When he discovered that the maiden--his once mistress and incomparable
swan--was of our household, he fell into strange raptures concerning the
indulgences of the gods towards their favourites--meaning himself. And
the sight of her, and her goodness to him--for with her own purse she
found him a lodging not far off--called up from him many a burst of
poetic fire, such as it grieves me to think cannot now be recovered.
More than that, he told us a little of Ludar, whom, as has been said, he
encountered at Chester.

More yet, he had one piece of news which was of no little import to the
maiden and us all, as you shall hear.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

HOW MASTER WALGRAVE FELL SHORT OF TYPE.

What the poet had to tell might never have been known had he not chanced
to hear me speak to the maiden one day of Turlogh Luinech O'Neill, her
father, and the Lady Cantire, her step-dame. He pricked up his ears at
the names.

"Hath Fortuna then reserved it to her mortal favourite to discover in my
mistress, my paragon of all virtue, the Lady Rose O'Neill? My
Hollander, why this churlish secrecy? why told ye not as much before?"

"Why," said I, "I supposed you knew the name of the lady you call your
mistress."

"Groundling!" said he, "a poet needeth no name but Love and Beauty. But
had I known this lady was she you say, I had relieved my mind of a
notable piece of news for her ear."

"Say on, Sir Poet," said the maiden, who had approached and heard these
last words.

"Now then, mistress mine," said he, "and thank not this voiceless
dabbler in ink for the mercy, that travelling not a week before I
reached London, I chanced into the company of a stranger, who fell
captive to my wit, and displayed so lively a tooth for the sweets of
Parnassus--to wit, my poesy--that, hearing I was about to issue the same
imprint, prayed me enrich him with a copy. The which I condescended to
promise him. Being thus established in a brotherhood of poetic kinship,
we opened our hearts one to another. And in our talk he confessed to me
that he was an Irish gentleman in the service of one Turlogh Luinech
O'Neill, a notable chieftain in the Isle of the Saints; and that he
travelled to London on an errand to no l