laugh," said the knight. "Good shrew, let laugh, I pray
you. An ye could see yourself, I warrant ye would laugh the first."

"Well," cried the lad, flushing, "ye shall answer this when ye answer for
the other. Laugh while yet ye may!"

"Nay, now, good cousin," replied Sir Daniel, with some earnestness,
"think not that I mock at you, except in mirth, as between kinsfolk and
singular friends. I will make you a marriage of a thousand pounds, go
to! and cherish you exceedingly. I took you, indeed, roughly, as the
time demanded; but from henceforth I shall ungrudgingly maintain and
cheerfully serve you. Ye shall be Mrs. Shelton--Lady Shelton, by my
troth! for the lad promiseth bravely. Tut! ye will not shy for honest
laughter; it purgeth melancholy. They are no rogues who laugh, good
cousin. Good mine host, lay me a meal now for my cousin, Master John.
Sit ye down, sweetheart, and eat."

"Nay," said Master John, "I will break no bread. Since ye force me to
this sin, I will fast for my soul's interest. But, good mine host, I
pray you of courtesy give me a cup of fair water; I shall be much
beholden to your courtesy indeed."

"Ye shall have a dispensation, go to!" cried the knight. "Shalt be well
shriven, by my faith! Content you, then, and eat."

But the lad was obstinate, drank a cup of water, and, once more wrapping
himself closely in his mantle, sat in a far corner, brooding.

In an hour or two, there rose a stir in the village of sentries
challenging and the clatter of arms and horses; and then a troop drew up
by the inn door, and Richard Shelton, splashed with mud, presented
himself upon the threshold.

"Save you, Sir Daniel," he said.

"How! Dickie Shelton!" cried the knight; and at the mention of Dick's
name the other lad looked curiously across. "What maketh Bennet Hatch?"

"Please you, sir knight, to take cognisance of this packet from Sir
Oliver, wherein are all things fully stated," answered Richard,
presenting the priest's letter. "And please you farther, ye were best
make all speed to Risingham; for on the way hither we encountered one
riding furiously with letters, and by his report, my Lord of Risingham
was sore bested, and lacked exceedingly your presence."

"How say you? Sore bested?" returned the knight. "Nay, then, we will
make speed sitting down, good Richard. As the world goes in this poor
realm of England, he that rides softliest rides surest. Delay, they say,
begetteth pe