his stories of Merlin? Gentle
maiden," he added earnestly, drawing nearer to her, and whispering in a
voice of much simple pathos, "thou art young, and I owe thee much.
Take care of thyself. Such wonders and derring-do are too solemn for
laughter."

"Ah," answered Sibyll, rising, "I fear they are. How can I expect the
people to be wiser than thou, or their hard natures kinder in their
judgment than thy kind heart?" Her low and melancholy voice went to the
heart thus appealed to. Marmaduke also rose, and followed her into the
parlour, or withdrawing-closet, while Adam and the goldsmith continued
to converse (though Alwyn's eye followed the young hostess), the former
appearing perfectly unconscious of the secession of his other listeners.
But Alwyn's attention occasionally wandered, and he soon contrived to
draw his host into the parlour.

When Nicholas rose, at last, to depart, he beckoned Sibyll aside. "Fair
mistress," said he, with some awkward hesitation, "forgive a plain,
blunt tongue; but ye of the better birth are not always above aid, even
from such as I am. If you would sell these blazoned manuscripts, I can
not only obtain you a noble purchaser in my Lord Scales, or in my
Lord Hastings, an equally ripe scholar, but it may be the means of my
procuring a suitable patron for your father; and, in these times, the
scholar must creep under the knight's manteline."

"Master Alwyn," said Sibyll, suppressing her tears, "it was for
my father's sake that these labours were wrought. We are poor and
friendless. Take the manuscripts, and sell them as thou wilt, and God
and Saint Mary requite thee!"

"Your father is a great man," said Alwyn, after a pause.

"But were he to walk the streets, they would stone him," replied Sibyll,
with a quiet bitterness.

Here the Nevile, carefully shunning the magician, who, in the nervous
excitement produced by the conversation of a mind less uncongenial than
he had encountered for many years, seemed about to address him--here, I
say, the Nevile chimed in, "Hast thou no weapon but thy bludgeon? Dear
foster-brother, I fear for thy safety."

"Nay, robbers rarely attack us mechanical folk; and I know my way better
than thou. I shall find a boat near York House; so pleasant night and
quick cure to thee, honoured foster-brother. I will send the tailor and
other craftsmen to-morrow."

"And at the same time," whispered Marmaduke, accompanying his friend
to the door, "send me a breviary, ju