caped to Flanders," said Oliver, hastily
interrupting her.

"I wish he had been so fortunate," said the dame; "what says our cousin
Talbot?"

"Hush, dame; our plans are not yet ripe. But more of this anon."

Elizabeth listened with more interest than usual. Every word was eagerly
devoured, and with the last sentence she could not forbear inquiring--

"And Edmund?--surely Edmund Talbot is not"--

"What?" sternly inquired her father; "what knowest thou of--? Said I
aught whereby thou shouldst suspect us?"

"Hush, thou foolish one," said the more cautious dame; "thy thought
alone was privy to it, and so no more. There be others listening."

The moonbeams now crept softly into the chambers, whither, too, crept
the weary household; the master and his wife remaining for a short time
together in the hall, apparently in earnest discussion. But Elizabeth
retired not to her couch. She passed softly through the courtyard,
looking round as though in search of some individual. This proved to be
the hunchback Gregory, whom she found esconced behind a peat-stack in
marvellous profundity of thought. With a soft step, and one finger
raised to her lips, she gently tapped him upon the shoulder.

Looking round, he saw her gesture and was silent.

"Gregory, art thou honest?" she inquired, in a whisper.

"Why, an' it be, Mistress Elspeth, when it suits with my discretion;
that is, if discretion be none the worse for it, eh?"

"Thou art ever so, Gregory; and yet"--

"If ye want honesty, eschew a knave, and catch a fool by the cap. None
but fools worry and distemper themselves with this same pale-faced
whining jade, that will leave 'em i' the lurch at a pinch, Dame Honesty,
forsooth. More wit, more wisdom; and there is a plentiful lack of wit in
your honest folk," continued the cynic, as though pursuing a train of
thought to its ultimate development.

"Gregory, thou art not the rogue thee seems. I think beneath that rough
and captious speech there lurks more honesty than thou art willing to
acknowledge. Thou hast been angered with baiting until thou wouldst run
at every dog that comes into the paddock, though he fawned on thee, and
were never so trusty and well-behaved."

Gregory was silent. He looked upwards to the bright moon and the
quenched orbs that lay about her path. Again Elizabeth whispered, first
looking cautiously around--

"Wilt do me a service?"

"Ay, for hire," he quickly answered.

"If thine errand is done f