The Fortunes of Nigel by Walter Scott (good summer reads txt) 📕

“Out, you fool!” answered Mistress Margaret; “am I one to speak to you about such criminal practices as that wretch died for? All I desire of you is, to get me precise knowledge of what affair brings this young nobleman to Court.”

“And when you have his secret,” said Ursula, “what will it avail you, sweetheart?—and yet I would do your errand, if you could do as much for me.”

“And what is it you would have of me?” said Mistress Margaret.

“What you have been angry with me for asking before,” answered Dame Ursula. “I want to have some light about the story of your godfather's ghost, that is only seen at prayers.”

“Not for the world,” said Mistress Margaret, “will I be a spy on my kind godfather's secrets—No, Ursula—that I will never pry into, which he desires to keep hidden. But thou knowest that I have a fortune, of my own, which must at no distant day come under my own management—think of some other recompense.”

“Ay, that I well know,” said the counsellor—“it is that two hundred per year, with your father's indulgence, that makes you so wilful, sweetheart.”

“It may be so,”—said Margaret Ramsay; “meanwhile, do you serve me truly, and here is a ring of value in pledge, that when my fortune is in my own hand, I will redeem the token with fifty broad pieces of gold.”

“Fifty broad pieces of gold!” repeated the dame; “and this ring, which is a right fair one, in token you fail not of your word!—Well, sweetheart, if I must put my throat in peril, I am sure I cannot risk it for a friend more generous than you; and I would not think of more than the pleasure of serving you, only Benjamin gets more idle every day, and our family——”

“Say no more of it,” said Margaret; “we understand each other. And now, tell me what you know of this young man's affairs, which made you so unwilling to meddle with them?”

“Of that I can say no great matter as yet,” answered Dame Ursula; “only I know, the most powerful among his own countrymen are against him, and also the most powerful at the Court here. But I will learn more of it; for it will be a dim print that I will not read for your sake, pretty Mistress Margaret. Know you where this gallant dwells?”

“I heard by accident,” said Margaret, as if ashamed of the minute particularity of her memory upon such an occasion,—“he lodges, I think—at one Christie's—if I mistake not—at Paul's Wharf—a ship-chandler's.”

“A proper lodging for a young baron!—Well, but cheer you up, Mistress Margaret—If he has come up a caterpillar, like some of his countrymen, he may cast his slough like them, and come out a butterfly.—So I drink good-night, and sweet dreams to you, in another parting cup of sack; and you shall hear tidings of me within four-and-twenty hours. And, once more, I commend you to your pillow, my pearl of pearls, and Marguerite of Marguerites!”

So saying, she kissed the reluctant cheek of her young friend, or patroness, and took her departure with the light and stealthy pace of one accustomed to accommodate her footsteps to the purposes of dispatch and secrecy.

Margaret Ramsay looked after her for some time, in anxious silence. “I did ill,” she at length murmured, “to let her wring this out of me; but she is artful, bold and serviceable—and I think faithful—or, if not, she will be true at least to her interest, and that I can command. I would I had not spoken, however—I have begun a hopeless work. For what has he said to me, to warrant my meddling in his fortunes?—Nothing but words of the most ordinary import—mere table-talk, and terms of course. Yet who knows”—she said, and then broke off, looking at the glass the while, which, as it reflected back a face of great beauty, probably suggested to her mind a more favourable conclusion of the sentence than she cared to trust her tongue withal.