etheart, tarry not here; it's an ill air for your
young lips to drink in. What brings you to old Madge?"

"The stranger is recovered, and--"

"Ay, I warrant me, I have cured worse than he. He must have a spoonful
of broth,--I have not forgot it. You see I wanted no dinner myself--what
is dinner to old folks!--so I e'en put it all in the pot for him. The
broth will be brave and strong."

"My poor Madge, God requite you for what you suffer for us! But he has
asked"--here was another sigh, and a downcast look that did not dare to
face the consternation of Madge, as she repeated, with a half-smile--"he
has asked--for meat, and a stoup of wine, Madge!"

"Eh, sirs! And where is he to get them? Not that it will be bad for the
lad, either. Wine! There's Master Sancroft of the Oak will not trust us
a penny, the seely hilding, and--"

"Oh, Madge, I forgot!--we can still sell the gittern for something. Get
on your wimple, Madge--quick,--while I go for it."

"Why, Mistress Sibyll, that's your only pleasure when you sit all alone,
the long summer days."

"It will be more pleasure to remember that it supplied the wants of my
father's guest," said Sibyll; and retracing the way up the stairs, she
returned with the broken instrument, and despatched Madge with it, laden
with instructions that the wine should be of the best. She then once
more mounted the rugged steps, and halting a moment at Marmaduke's
door, as she heard his feeble step walking impatiently to and fro, she
ascended higher, where the flight, winding up a square, dilapidated
turret, became rougher, narrower, and darker, and opened the door of her
father's retreat.

It was a room so bare of ornament and furniture that it seemed merely
wrought out of the mingled rubble and rough stones which composed the
walls of the mansion, and was lighted towards the street by a narrow
slit, glazed, it is true,--which all the windows of the house were
not,--but the sun scarcely pierced the dull panes and the deep walls
in which they were sunk. The room contained a strong furnace and a rude
laboratory. There were several strange-looking mechanical contrivances
scattered about, several manuscripts upon some oaken shelves, and
a large pannier of wood and charcoal in the corner. In that
poverty-stricken house, the money spent on fuel alone, in the height
of summer, would have comfortably maintained the inmates; but neither
Sibyll nor Madge ever thought to murmur at this waste, dedica