"I should be too pleased to see them," said Sir Mark, eagerly; and he was led up this long walk, down that, between the closely-cropped yew-trees and the edges of box, all kept in wondrously-regular order, and the beds lush with many-coloured, sweet-scented plants, which grew in clusters luxuriant and strong.

Sir Mark assumed a look of pleasure, and Mistress Anne was innocence itself; her eyes downcast and a trembling, hesitating expression in her countenance, though she plainly saw that Sir Mark was wearied out and longed to go in and rest.

"There is the orchard, that Sir Mark has not yet seen," cried Dame Beckley, to her daughter's great delight, as she hung upon the visitor's arm.

"But, ladies, I must be thinking of my journey back to town."

"Not without tasting our hospitality, Sir Mark," exclaimed Dame Beckley, apparently in answer to a signal from her child, and leading the way.

So he was amply feasted and petted for the time, until, mounting horse once more, he rode over the bridge, and stopped to wave his hand before the trees hid Mistress Anne and her mother from view, with Sir Thomas in his feather-stuffed breeches and cock-tail hat.

Volume 2, Chapter VI.

HOW SWEET MACE ASKED FOR A CUP OF WATER.

"Quick, Polly, my hat and cloak!" cried Mistress Anne, running up to her room, where her little handmaiden was seated at work. "Then there is some truth in the old woman's philtres after all?"

"Yes, mistress, if you mean Mother Goodhugh's," cried the girl, who had caught the last words.

"Why? How? What do you know?" cried Mistress Anne.

"Why, mistress, everybody in love goes to her to get her help."

"And who told thee I was in love, thou saucy slut?" cried Anne angrily.

"My handsome mistress's beautiful cheeks, that turned red when she knew Sir Mark Leslie was coming, and her red, ripe lips, that spake his name.

La, mistress, don't be angry with little me, for wishing to see thee with a handsome, gallant husband. But I shouldn't like though for him to be so fond of Sweet Mace down at the forge."

"And who dare say he is?" cried Mistress Anne, angrily.

"They say he be, mistress, and that he pooked Captain Culverin about her, and the captain was nearly drowned as well."

"Who told thee all this?" cried Anne.

"Janet, who lives there, helped the news to me," replied the girl; "but Sir Mark would never bemean himself to marry such a creature as that Mistress Mace."

"Hold thy prating tongue," cried Mistress Anne; "and if I find thee talking about my affairs, girl, or what thou seest, Sir Thomas shall know."

Hastily tying on hat and cloak, she started for Mother Goodhugh's, Polly, her apple-faced little maid, making a grimace as she left the room.

"I shall talk as much as I like," said the girl, giving her head a toss; "mighty madam, as you be. Tell Sir Thomas, and I'll tell what I see going on from this window, down in the nut-stubbs. Ha, ha, ha! how my lady did stare."

Mistress Anne lost no time in making her way across the fields and through the woods, to Mother Goodhugh's; finding the old woman seated at her door, watching her bees as they flew in and out from the straw-hives in her garden-patch.

"Ah, my dearie," she exclaimed; "you be come again?"

"Yes, mother," cried Anne, trying, now to keep calm and cool. "What is this I hear about Captain Carr?"

"Captain Carr be not for thee," cried the old woman, firing up; "he be a murderer--he has slain my best old friend, and if Sir Thomas, thy father, does not have him hung, he be no true man."

"Softly," said Mistress Anne; "softly, mother."

"Nay, I will go softly no more. But of thine own affairs, dearie, Captain Gil Carr is cursed, with all he does. My words have brought him evil already, and thee good. Sir Mark, the handsome stranger, is to wed my handsome mistress. I sent him thee to-day."

"You sent him?"

"Ah, child, mock away. I sent him on his way to London. Tell me, if thou darest, that he did not say sweet things to thee? Ay, thy face tells it. Child, he be thine."

"Nay, mother," cried Anne, who was thrown off her guard by the old woman's apparent knowledge; "he is coming back soon, and he will go to the foundry-house, and--and--"

"Mace Cobbe? Nay, child, nay; the game be thine own now. He and Mace have nothing between them. He be thine if thou wilt have him."

"How can you tell me that, mother?"

"What!" cried the old woman, "have not I worked upon him night and day, till he and that girl are at odds? I say, child; the game be thine own."

"Mother," whispered Anne, after a glance at the door, "I hardly believe in thy spells; but look, here is a golden piece for you. Ten more shall be yours if you can make Mace Cobbe unpleasing in Sir Mark's eyes when he comes back. He is not half gained yet, but with your help he can be won."

"Make her unpleasing--her face?" said Mother Goodhugh, with a peculiar look. "Hush! I want to know nothing--I will not know anything, Mother Goodhugh. Only I say make her so that he shall care for her no more."

"But how, child, how?" said the old woman, with a malicious grin.

"Do you want me to teach you your trade?" cried Anne, sharply. "There, give me back my gold piece, and I'll go to one who can do my bidding."

"Nay," cried the old woman, sharply; "I'll do it; but if I get into trouble thou must stand by me with Sir Thomas."

"What if they want to burn thee for a witch!" said Mistress Anne.

"Hush!" cried the old woman, "hush!" and she glanced hastily round, to see that they were not overheard. "Don't speak like that; the people might hear thee. Hist! some one is coming."

Mistress Anne started up in alarm, as approaching footsteps were heard; and, obeying the old woman's pointing finger, she hid behind the blue-checked curtain, which shut off her bed, just as there was a tap on the door, and the innocent object of their machinations entered, basket in hand.

"Why, it be thou, child," cried the old woman, in an ill-used tone.

"Yes, mother; I've brought a few little things for thee."

"Nay, I want them not, nor none of thy trade," cried the old woman; "I want them not;" but her glistening eyes told another tale. "There, set them down there," she continued, pointing to a side-table.

"Suppose you open the basket and take them out yourself, mother," said Mace, smiling with an ingenuous look that might have disarmed the crone's resentment; but it seemed to have a reverse action, as she rose muttering and scowling, half-snatched the basket, and carried it beyond the curtain, to empty it of its contents.

As she did so, the old woman's eyes encountered those of Mistress Anne, and a peculiar meaning look passed from one to the other, as Mace said aloud--

"I am thirsty with my walk, mother; can you give me a cup of water?"

"Yes, child, yes," cried the old woman, hastily; and one of her hands stole towards a shelf over Mistress Anne's head, as she made believe to go on emptying the basket by making its lid creak loudly.

Mistress Anne's eyes followed the old woman's hand, and she saw the skinny fingers close upon a phial, which she hastily hid in her breast, and then once more the eyes of the pair behind the curtain met in a meaning way, and the face of the hiding girl grew ghastly pale.

"Wait a moment, child," grumbled Mother Goodhugh, "and I'll get thee a cup of water from the spring. There be thy basket, but bring no more such things to me; I hate them."