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"Tell us truly, old man," said the innkeeper, threateningly; "who is this esquire Humphrey, and who is the young lady that beareth him company? Make haste with thine answer, or it shall be worse for thee." "Why," replied old Bartlemy, slowly, as his gaze wandered from face to face, "the esquire is the false priest from Oundle, and the young lady is his novice."
"I smile, my Lord," she said, "to think what a great lady your goodness has made of me, and how in these days I ride forth, and how in the past, when I was but Clo Wildairs our old chariot lumbered like a house on wheels, and its leather hung in flaps, and the farm horses pulled it lurching from side to side, and old Bartlemy had grown too portly for his livery and cursed when it split as he rolled in his seat."
And now I know not whither they be gone," he added disconsolately. "And perchance I shall see them no more; nor shall I see the mole on the nose of the good Humphrey more; and so, farewell to the fortune it might bring me." "And who is the young lady?" said the innkeeper, with a fierce look. "Why, she be a fine lad," replied old Bartlemy. The innkeeper reflected amid a low hum of comment.
"Why, that I hardly can tell," returned Humphrey. "What callest thou a fortune?" Old Bartlemy looked at him craftily. "The friend to my counsel did say one hundred and fifty gold pieces, and that will pay for the disguises." "No less?" asked Humphrey. "Nay," returned old Bartlemy. "If thou dost leave me, I may never see the mole upon thy nose again.
Bartlemy Saddletree's query to her maid: 'What gart ye busk your cockernony that gait? To this hour, indeed, there are thousands of Scott's admirers for whom the question might just as well be framed in Sanscrit. In Sir Walters own day and generation he had one considerable imitator in Galt, whose 'Andrew Wylie of that Ilk' and 'The Entail' can still afford pleasure to the reader.
For what will a man not do if he may thereby escape the marring of his fortune?" Old Bartlemy now ceased speaking and devoted all his energies to hastily undoing the bundle he had brought in, and sorting out a portion of what it contained. "What hast thou there?" asked Humphrey, contemptuously, as he pointed to a woman's robe, tunic, and hood of green. "Here be no fine ladies."
"Here come my lambs at last, Marty, and among 'em some o' the lads as sailed wi' Bartlemy aboard the 'Delight. There's Sam Spraggons for one Smiling Sam as you'll mind aboard the 'Faithful Friend. Now the Smiler knoweth many and divers methods of persuasion, Marty lad, tricks learned of the Indians as shall persuade a man to anything in this world.
"You've had me taught to read and write, father," replied young Tom; "and a'ter that, a lad may teach himself everything. I pick up every day, here and there; and I never see a thing or a word that I don't understand but I find out the meaning when I can. I picked up that hard word at Bartlemy fair." "And very hard you hit him with it." "Who wouldn't to serve a friend?
"In these secret caves, Martin, is nothing that is not beautiful. The walls are all hung with rich arras, the floors adorned with marvellous rugs and carpets. And there are many pictures excellent well painted. Pirate and wicked as he was, Black Bartlemy understood and loved beautiful things." "Aye, he did so!" says I, scowling. "And amongst these pictures is one of himself."
Gold Stone!" exclaimed the goblin, in advance of the age; and, with an outrageous wink, he treated Bartlemy to another whack with the yardstick, and vanished. The blow struck our tailor insensible; and when his eyes again unclosed it was broad daylight.
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