"Come, Richard of Woodville," said his companion, as soon as they entered the chamber of the rose-tapestry, "let us be friends. You have served me at my need; and I would fain serve you; but I must first know how."

"Faith, sir, that is not easy," answered Woodville, "for I do not know how myself."

"Well, then, I must think for you, Richard," rejoined Hal of Hadnock; "what stays your marriage?"

Woodville gazed at him with some surprise, and then smiled. "My marriage!--with whom?" he asked.

"Nay, nay," answered his new friend, "waste not time with idle concealments. I am a man who uses his eyes; and I can tell you, methinks, all about every one in the hall we have just left."

"Well, stay yet a moment, till we can be alone," replied Woodville; "they will soon bring you a livery of wine and manchet bread."

"In pity stop them," cried Hal of Hadnock; "I have supped so late that I can take no more." But, as he was speaking, a servant entered with a cup of hot wine, and a small roll of fine bread upon a silver plate. As bound in courtesy, the guest broke off a piece of the manchet, and put the cup to his lips; but it was a mere ceremony, for he did not drink; and the man, taking away the rest of the wine and bread, quitted the room.

"Now, Richard, you shall see if I be right," continued Hal of Hadnock. "There is one pretty maid, called Mary Markham, or I heard not your uncle right, whose cheek sometimes changes from the soft hue of the rose's outer leaves, to the deep crimson of its blushing breast, when a certain Richard of Woodville is near; and there is one good youth, called Richard of Woodville, who can whisper sweet words in Mary Markham's ear, while his uncle holds converse with a new guest at a distance."

Woodville laughed, and made no answer; and his companion went on.

"Well, then, there is a fair Lady Catherine, beautiful and witty, but somewhat shrewish withal, and holding her own merits as most rare jewels, too good to be bestowed on ordinary men; who would have a lover, like a bird in a cage, piping all day to her perfections, and would think him well paid if she gave him but one of the smiles or looks whereof she is bountiful to those who love her not: and, moreover, there is one Sir Harry Dacre, a noble knight and true--for I have heard his name ere now--whom I should fancy to be her husband, were it not that----"

"Why should you think them so nearly allied?" asked Woodville.

"Because she gave him neither word nor look," replied Hal of Hadnock. "Is not that proof enough with such a dame?"

"You have read them but too rightly," rejoined Richard of Woodville, with a sigh. "He is not, indeed, her husband, but as near it as may be--betrothed in infancy; a curse upon such doings, that bind together in the bud two flowers that but destroy each other's blossoms as they grow. They are to be wedded fully when she sees twenty years; and poor Dacre, as noble and as true a heart as e'er was known, looks sternly forward to that day, as a prisoner does to the hour of execution; for she has taught him too early, and too well, all those secrets of her bosom which a wiser woman would have hidden."

"He does not love her, that is clear," answered his companion, in a graver tone than he had hitherto used. "Did he never love her?"

"No, not with manly love," replied Richard of Woodville. "I remember well, when we were both boys together, and she as lovely a girl as ever was seen, he used to be proud then of her beauty, and call her his fair young wife. But even then she began the lessons, of which she has given him such a course, that never pale student at Oxford was better indoctrinated in Aristotle, than he is in her heart. Even in those early days she would jeer and scoff at him, and if he showed her any little tenderness, would straightway strive to make him angry; would pretend great fondness for some other--for me--for any one who happened to be near; would give his gifts away; admire whatever was not like him. Oh, then fair hair was her delight, blue eyes were beautiful. She hated him, I do believe, because she was tied to him, and that was the only bond upon her own capricious will; so that she resolved to use him as a boy does a poor bird tied to him by a string, pulling it hither and thither till its little heart beats unto bursting with such cruel tyranny! Had she begun less early, indeed, her power of grieving him would have been greater, for he was well inclined to let affection take duty's hand, and love her if he could. But she herself soon ended that source of torture. She may now play the charmer with whom she will, she cannot wring his heart with jealousy."

"He does not love her, that is clear," repeated Hal of Hadnock, in a still graver tone, "but he may love another."

"Ha!" exclaimed Woodville; "whom think you, sir?"

"Nay," replied his companion, after a pause, "it is not for me, my good friend, to sow suspicious doubts or fears, where I find them not. I do believe Sir Harry Dacre will do all that is right and noble; and I did but mean to say, that his poor heart may know greater tortures than you dream of, if, tied as he is by the act of others, to a woman who will not suffer him to love her, he has met, or should hereafter meet, with one on whom all his best affections can be placed. I say not that he has,--I only say, such a thing may be."

Richard of Woodville gazed down upon the rushes on the floor for several moments with a thoughtful look. "I know of whom you would speak," he said at length; "but I think, in this, you have deceived yourself, sharp as your observation has been. Isabel has been the companion of both from youth; and to her, in early days, Dacre would go for consolation and kindness, when worn out by this cold, vain lady's caprice and perverseness. She pitied him, and soothed; and often have I heard her try to soften Catherine's conduct, making it seem youthful folly and high spirits; and trying to take the venom from the wound. He looks upon Isabel as a sister--nothing more--I think."

Hal of Hadnock shook his head; and then suddenly turned to another subject. "Well," he said, "you will not deny that I am right in some things, and, therefore, as I am in your secret, whether you will or not, now answer me my question--What stays your marriage?"

"Good sooth, I cannot tell," replied Richard of Woodville; "the truth is, this dear lovely girl came here some years gone, none knew from whence; but it was my uncle brought her, and ever since he has treated her as a daughter. All have loved her, and I more than all; but day after day went by in sports and pleasures; and, in a full career of happiness, I did not think till yesterday of risking the present by striving to brighten the future. Last evening, however, I said some plainer words than usual. What she replied matters not; but I saw that, afterwards, she was not so gay as usual; and to-day I took a moment, when I thought good Sir Philip was in a yielding mood, and asked the hand of his dear ward--or daughter; for I must not hide from you that men have suspicions, there is blood of the Beauchamps in this same lady's veins. He gave me a rough answer, however; told me not to think of her, and would assign no reason why. I will not say we quarrelled, for I love him too much, and reverence him too much for that; but I said in haste, that if I were not to think of her, I would stay no longer where suing only bred regret; and that I would seek honour, if I could not find a bride. He answered it was the best thing I could do; and so, without more thought than to feed my horse, and bid them all farewell, I put foot in stirrup for my own place hard by West Meon, with the intent of seeking service in some foreign land, as the wars here have come to an end. My good uncle only laughed at me, and told them, as I mounted in the court, that Dickon was out of humour, but would soon find his good spirits again. I did not do so for a long way, however; but, as I went well sure of my lady's grace, I began to take heart after a-while, and resolved that she should hear of me from other shores, till I could claim her, and no one say me nay."

"It was a good resolve," answered his companion; "for in such a case I know not what else could be done. But whither did you intend to bend your steps--to France?"

"Nay, not to France," said Woodville; "I love not the Frenchmen. If our good king, indeed, were again to draw the sword for the recovery of all that sluggish men and evil times have lost of our rightful lands since the Black Prince's death, right willingly would I follow thither to fight against the French, but not serve with them."

"But his royal thoughts are turned to other things," replied Hal of Hadnock; "he still holds the mind, I hear, to take the cross, and couch a lance for the sepulchre."

"That is gone by, I am told," answered Richard of Woodville; "this frequent sickness that attacks him has made him think of other things, men say; but, doubtless, you know better than I do?"

"Nay, I know nought about it," said his fellow traveller; "but it is predicted that he shall die at Jerusalem."

"Heaven send it," exclaimed Woodville; "for if he live till then, his will be a long reign, methinks."

"Amen!" rejoined the other; "but whither thought you, then, to go?"

"Perchance to the court of Burgundy," replied Richard; "or to some of those Italian states, where there are ever hard blows to be found, and honour to be gained by doughty deeds."

"That famous land of Italy is somewhat far from our poor northern isle," answered Hal of Hadnock; "especially for a lover. Methinks Burgundy were best; but, doubtless, since you have come back again, your resolution has been left on the road behind us."

"No, not a whit," cried Woodville; "what I judged best in haste some hours ago, I now judge best at leisure. I have told Mary that I go for her sweet sake, to make me a high name, and with Heaven's blessing I will do it."

"Well, then," answered his new friend, "if such be your determination, I know some noble gentlemen in the court of that same Duke of Burgundy, who may aid your advancement for Hal of Hadnock's sake."

Richard of Woodville smiled, replying, "Doubtless, you do, fair sir; but may I tell them you sent me to them?"

"If you will but wait a day or two," said the other, "I will write them a letter, which you shall take yourself; and you will find that I have bespoke you kind entertainment."

"Thanks, noble sir--many hearty thanks," rejoined the old knight's nephew; "wait for a time I must, for I will not go solitary and unprepared. I must have horses, and men, and arms of the new fashion. I must also sell some acres of new copse, and some tons of old wine, to equip me for my own journey."

"Well, then, ere you go, you shall hear more from me," replied Hal of Hadnock; "and now, good Richard, let us talk more of the folks in the hall. I would fain hear farther. This Sir Harry Dacre, his face pleases me; there is thought and a high heart therein, or I read not nature's book aright. Methinks, if he were wise, he too would seek renown in arms, instead of dangling at a lady's side that loves him not. Perchance, if he were to seem to cast her by as worthless, and fix on honour for a mistress, her love--for who can tell all the wild whimsies of a capricious woman's heart?--would follow him."

"He might think that worse than the other," said Woodville; "I do not think he seeks her love."

"There he is wrong," answered his companion; "for it is against all rule of philosophy, when we are bound by a chain we cannot break, to let it rust and canker in our flesh. It is as well to polish it with any soft thing we can find; and, granted that she has lost his love, 'twere well he should have hers, if she is to be his wife."

"Perhaps he may long to break the chain," replied Richard, drily; "were both to seek it, such contracts have been annulled by law, and by the Church, ere now; and the Pope, or at least his cardinals, are not always stubborn against gold and reason. But I doubt she will consent," he added; "she loves a captive, and if she sees he seeks his freedom, she will resist of course."

"A most sweet temper," observed Hal of Hadnock; "yet it is to be thought of; and if I can help him, I will. Tomorrow early, indeed, I thought to speed me back to Westminster; but I will stay an hour or two, and see if I cannot play with a capricious lady, with art equal to her own. At all events, I shall learn more of what are her designs."

"Designs! she has none!" exclaimed Richard of Woodville, "but to reign and triumph for the hour. Here has been Simeon of Roydon, doing her homage for these three days, as if she were the Queen of Love; and she has smiled upon him, for she still fancies she can so give Dacre pain; but no sooner did you come, than she turned all the archery of her eyes on you."

"Yet left a blank target," replied Hal of Hadnock. "But of this Sir Simeon of Roydon I would have honest men beware, my good friend. I know something of him."

"And he of you," answered Woodville.

"Ay?" asked his companion, "what makes you fancy so?"

"Why I too am one of those who use their eyes, fair sir," said Woodville.

"And not their tongues, good friend," rejoined the other. "Well, you are wise. But tell me, did not Sir Harry Dacre go with the Duke of Clarence into France?"

"Yes, it was there he gained his spurs last year," answered Richard; "he fought well, too, at Bramham Moor; and earlier still, when a mere boy, against the Scots, when they last broke in:--

"I thought I had heard of him," replied Hal of Hadnock. "However, if you hold your mind to go to-morrow, we will ride together, and can talk further of these matters by the way; so, for the present, good night, and fair dreams attend you."

"I must go and bid one of the men sleep across your door," said Richard of Woodville: "though this house is safe enough, yet it is as well always to be careful."

"It matters not, it matters not," answered his companion. "I have never found a man, against whom my own hand could not keep my head or my heart."

"As for your heart, sir," rejoined Woodville, laughing; "you may yet find a woman who will teach you better."

"I know not," replied Hal of Hadnock, laughing; "I am strong there, too; but no one can tell what is written in the stars," and thus they parted.