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"Why, look you," responded that talkative lady, "if you have yonder green gown, you can don it of an even when your master comes home from work, and he'll be main pleased to see you a-sitting in the cottage door with your bit o' needlework, in a pretty green gown." "Ay, so he will!" said Margaret, suddenly making up as much mind as she had. "I thank you Mistress Clere.
"Twenty-six and eightpence, Madam, at your pleasure." "'Tis dear." "Nay, Madam! Pray you look on the quality velvet of the finest, and pearls of right good colour. You shall not find a better in any shop in the town." And Mrs Clere dexterously turned the purple placard to the light in such a manner that a little spot on one side of it should not show. "Or if this carnation please you the better "
Yes, the quaint old French fits her to a nicety: 'Elle ne fu oscure ne brune, Ains fu clere comme la lune, Envers qui les autres estoiles Ressemblent petites chandoiles. Mrs. Browning must have known such a woman: 'Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace; You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face; and yet 'She was not as pretty as women I know. Was she not?" mused the lover.
"I'm servant to Master Clere, clothier, of Balcon Lane, and I'm sent with a message of grave import to the mill." "Tell Master Clere, if he wants his corn ground, he must send by daylight." And the wooden shutter was flung to. Elizabeth stood for an instant as if dazed. "I can't get to them," she said to herself. "There's no chance that way. I must go to Tenant's Lane."
Here be an half-dozen in the town arrest of heresy and some without, too." "Mercy on us! Who?" demanded Mrs Clere. "Why, Master Benold, chandler, and Master Bongeor, glazier, and old Mistress Silverside, and Mistress Ewring at the mill these did I hear. I know not who else." And suddenly turning to Elizabeth, he said, "Hussy, was this thine errand, or had it ought to do therewith?"
Between us and these hills flowed a gleaming river, from which a broad avenue led up to the eye of the picture, a noble grey stone mansion, a mass of turrets, gables, and chimneys, which the afternoon sun was lighting up right pleasantly. "That is the finest seat I have seen yet, Sam," I said. "Whose is that?" "That," said Sam, "is Clere. My house and your home, old friend."
"Nay, I can't let be," whispered Rose in answer. "Now or never, is it? Well, I wish you well through it." Mistress Clere, who had been serving another customer with an ounce of thread there were no reels of thread in those days; it was only sold in skeins or large hanks now came to Rose and the other girl. "Good-morrow, Gillian Mildmay! What's wanting?" "Good-morrow, Mistress Clere!
"Shouldn't think o' doing," answered the clothier. "Come, you know the sort as 'ill serve me. Shilling a yard at best. If you've any at eightpence " "Haven't." "Well, then I reckon I must go a bit higher." "We've as good a kersey at elevenpence," broke in Mrs Clere, "as you'd wish to see, Alice Mount, of a summer day.
Her father's castle could be seen over the trees from the windows of Clere, and every morning, wet or dry, the old man posted himself in the great north window of the gallery to watch her coming.
"Then you'd better go and buy it," snapped Mrs Clere, whom something seemed to have put out that morning, for she was generally better-tempered than that. "Well, but I'm not so sure," repeated the customer. "It's a good step to Wye Street, and I've lost a bit o' time already. If you'll take tenpence the ell, you may cut me off twelve."
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