All was bustle in the good old town of Ghent, as Richard of Woodville and his train rode in. It was at all times a gay and busy place; and even now, when much of its commerce has passed away from it, what a cheerful and lively scene does its market-place present on a summer's day, with the tall houses rising round, and breaking the line of the sunshine into fantastic forms, and the innumerable groups of men and women standing to gossip or to traffic, or moving about in many-coloured raiment! On that day, however, military display was added to the usual gaiety of the scene, and to the ordinary municipal pageants of the time. Horsemen in arms were riding through the streets, lances were seen here and there, and pennons fluttered on the wind, while every now and then attendants in gay dresses, with the arms of Burgundy embroidered upon breast and back, passed along with busy looks and an important air.

The young Englishman took his way under the direction of brother Paul--who had shown himself upon the journey more courteous and conversable than had been expected--towards the principal hostelry of the place; and Ghent at that time possessed many; but he was twice forced to stop in his advance by the crowds, who seemed to take little notice of him and his train, so fully occupied were they with some other event of the day. The first interruption was caused by a long train of priests and monks going to some church, with all the splendid array of the Roman Catholic clergy, followed by an immense multitude of idle gazers; and hardly had they passed, when the procession of the trades, walking on foot, with banners displayed, and guards in armour, and ensigns of the different companies, crossed the path of the travellers, causing them to halt for a full quarter of an hour, while the long line moved slowly on.

"Is this any day of peculiar festival, brother Paul?" demanded Richard of Woodville; "the good citizens of Ghent seem in holiday."

"None that I know of," replied the monk; "but I will ask;" and, pushing on his mule to the side of one of the more respectable artisans, he inquired the cause of the procession of the trades.

"They are going to compliment the Count de Charolois," answered the man, "and to ask his recognition of their charters and privileges. He arrived only this morning."

"That is fortunate, Ella," said Woodville, as soon as he was informed of this reply; "both for you and for me. Your father's cousin will, most likely, be with him; and I seek the Count myself."

Brother Paul seemed to listen attentively to what his companions said; but he made no remark; and as soon as the procession had passed, they rode on, and were soon housed comfortably for the night. The monk left them at the inn door, thanking the young English gentleman for his escort, and retired to the abbey of St. Bavon.

The hour of the day was somewhat late for Richard of Woodville to present himself before the Count de Charolois, and he also judged that it might be more prudent to visit in the first place the agent of the King of England--the well-known diplomatist of that day, Sir Philip Morgan, or de Morgan--if it should chance that he had accompanied the Count to Ghent. That he had done so, indeed, seemed by no means improbable, as Woodville had learned since his arrival in Flanders, that the Duke of Burgundy himself was absent in the French capital, and that the chief rule of his Flemish territory was entrusted to his son. The host of the inn, however, could tell him nothing about the matter; all he knew was, that the Count had arrived that morning unexpectedly, accompanied by a large train, and that instead of taking up his abode in the Cour des Princes, which had of late years become the residence of the Counts of Flanders, he had gone to what was called the Vieux Bourg, or old castle, of the Flemish princes. He offered to send a man to inquire if a person bearing the hard name which his English guest had pronounced, was with the Count's company; and Richard of Woodville had just got through the arrangements of a first arrival, and was taking a hasty meal, when the messenger returned, saying that Sir Philip de Morgan was with the Count, and was lodged in the left gate tower entering from the court.

"I will go to him at once, Ella," he said; "and before my return you had better bethink you of what course you will pursue, in case your kinsman should not be with the Count. I will leave you for the present under the charge of Ned Dyram here, who will see that no harm happens to you in this strange town."

"Oh! it is not strange to me," replied Ella Brune. "We once staid here for a month, noble sir; and, as to bethinking me of what I shall do, I have bethought me already, but will not stay you to speak about it now."

Thus saying, she suffered him to depart, without giving him any charge to inquire after her kinsman, being somewhat more than indifferent, to say the truth, as to whether Richard of Woodville found him or not. When the young gentleman had departed, and the meal was concluded, Ned Dyram, though he had taken care to show no great pleasure at the task which his master had given him to execute, besought his fair companion to walk forth with him into the town, and urged her still, notwithstanding the plea of weariness which she offered for retiring to her own chamber.

"I wish to purchase some goods," he said; "and shall never make myself understood, fair Ella, unless I have you with me."

"Oh! every one in this town speaks French," replied Ella Brune; "for since the country fell to one of the royal family of France, that tongue has become the fashion amongst the nobles; and the traders are obliged to learn it, to speak with them."

"But I must not go out and leave you," replied Ned Dyram, "after the charge my young lord has laid upon me;" and as he still pressed her to accompany him, Ella, who felt that she owed him some gratitude for having forwarded her schemes so far, at length consented; and they issued forth together into the streets of Ghent.

As soon as they were free from the presence of the other attendants of Richard of Woodville, the manner of her companion towards Ella became very different. There was a tenderness in his tones, and in his words, an expression of admiration in his countenance, which he had carefully avoided displaying before others; and the poor girl felt somewhat grieved and annoyed, although, as there was nothing coarse or familiar in his demeanour, she felt that she had no right to be displeased.

"The lowliest may love the highest," she thought; "and in station he is better than I am. Why, then, should I feel angry?--And yet I wish this had not been; it may mar all my plans. How can I check it? and if I do, may he not divine all the rest, and, in his anger, do what he can to thwart me?--I will treat it lightly. Heaven pardon me, if I dissemble!"

"What are you thinking of so deeply, fair maiden?" asked Ned Dyram, marking the reverie into which she had fallen. "You do not seem to listen to what I say."

"As much as it is worth, Master Dyram," replied Ella, in a gay tone; "but I must check you; you are too rapid in your sweet speeches. Do you not know, that he who would become a true servant to a lady, must have long patience, and go discreetly to work? Oh! I am not to be won more easily than my betters! Poor as I am, I am as proud as any lady of high degree, and will have slow courtship and humble suit before I am won."

"You shall have all that you wish, fair Ella," answered Ned Dyram, "if you will but smile upon my suit!"

"Smile!" exclaimed Ella, with the same light manner. "Did ever man dream of such a thing so soon! Why, you may think yourself highly favoured, if you get a smile within three months. The first moon is all sighing--the next is all beseeching--the next, hoping and fearing; and then, perchance, a smile may come, to give hope encouragement. A kind word may follow at the end of the fourth month, and so on. But the lady who could be wholly won before three years, is unworthy of regard. However, Master Dyram," she continued in a graver tone, "you must make haste to purchase what you want, for I am over-weary to walk further over these rough stones."

Just as she spoke, brother Paul passed them, in company with a secular priest; and, although he took no notice of his fellow travellers, walking on as if he did not see them, the quick eye of Ned Dyram perceived with a glance that the priest and the monk had stopped, and were gazing back, talking earnestly together.

"That dull shaveling loves us not, fair Ella," said Ned Dyram. "He is one of your haters of all men, I should think."

"I have seen his face somewhere before," answered Ella Brune; "but I know not well where. 'Tis not a pleasant picture to look upon, certainly, but he may be a good man for all that. Come, Master Dyram, what is it you want to buy? Here are stalls enough around us now; and if you do not choose speedily, I must turn back to the inn, and leave you to find your way through Ghent alone."

"Then, first," said Ned Dyram, "I would buy a clasp to fasten the hood round your fair face."

"What!" exclaimed Ella, in a tone of merry anger; "accept a present within a week of having seen you first! Nay, nay, servant of mine, that is a grace you must not expect for months to come. No, if that be all you want, I shall turn back," and she did so accordingly; but Ned Dyram had accomplished as much of his object as he had hoped or expected, for that day at least. He had spoken of love with Ella Brune; and, although what a great seer of the human heart has said, that "talking of love is not making it," may be true, yet it is undoubtedly a very great step to that pleasant consummation. But Ned Dyram had done more; he had overstepped the first great barrier; and Ella now knew that he loved her. He trusted to time and opportunity for the rest; and he was not one to doubt his skill in deriving the greatest advantage from both.

The foolish and obtuse are often deceived by others; the shrewd and quick are often deceived by themselves. Without that best of all qualities of the mind, strong common sense, there is little to choose between the two: for if the dull man has in the world to contend with a thousand knaves, the quick one has in his own heart to contend with a thousand passions; and, perhaps, the domestic cheats are the most dangerous after all. There is not so great a fool on the earth as a clever man, when he is one; and Ned Dyram was one of that class, so frequently to be found in all ages, whose abilities are sometimes serviceable to others, but are rarely, if ever, found serviceable to themselves.

Ella had used but little art towards him, but that which all women use, or would use, under such circumstances. Her first great thought was to conceal the love she felt; and where--when it becomes necessary to do so--is there a woman who will not find a thousand disguises to hide it from all eyes? But to him especially she was anxious to suffer no feeling of her bosom to appear; for she had speedily discovered, by a sort of intuition rather than observation--or, perhaps by a quickness in the perception of small traits which often seems like intuition--that he was keen and cunning beyond his seeming; and now she had a double motive for burying every secret deep in her own heart. She laid out no plan, indeed, for her future conduct towards him; she thought not what she would say, or what she would do; and if, in her after course, she employed aught like wile against his wiles, it was done on the impulse of the moment, and not on any predetermined scheme.

Ned Dyram had remarked his master's conduct well since Ella had been their companion; he had seen that Woodville had been sincere in the opinion he had expressed, that it would be better for her to remain in England; and the very calm indifference which he had displayed on finding her in the ship with himself, had proved to him, both that there had never been any love passages between them ere he knew either, as he had imagined when first he was sent to London, and thus there was no chance of the young gentleman's kindly sympathy for the fair girl he protected growing into a warmer feeling. He read the unaffected conduct of his master aright; but to that of Ella Brune he had been more blind, partly because he was deceived by his own passions, partly because, in this instance, he had a much deeper and less legible book to read--a woman's heart; and, though naturally of a clear-sighted and even suspicious mind, he saw not, in the slightest degree, the real impulses on which she acted.

Contented, therefore, with the progress he had made, he purchased some articles of small value at one of the stalls which they passed, and returned to the inn with his fair companion, who at once sought her chamber, and retired to rest, without waiting for Richard of Woodville's return. Then sitting down in a dark corner of the hall, in which several of his companions were playing at tables, and two or three other guests listening to a tale in broad Flemish, delivered by the host, Dyram turned in his mind all that had passed between him and Ella, and, with vanity to aid him, easily persuaded himself that his suit would find favour in her eyes. He saw, indeed, that the rash and licentious thoughts which he had at one time entertained in regard to her when he found her poor, solitary, and unprotected, at a hostel in the liberties of the city, were injurious to her; but as his character was one of those too ordinary and debased ones, which value all things by the difficulty of attainment, he felt the more eagerly inclined to seek her, and to take any means to make her his, because he found her less easy to be obtained than he had at first imagined.