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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Ay, worshipful sir, if you like my terms as well as I like yours." "And what are your terms?" demanded Varney. "If I am to have a quick eye for my patron's interest, he must have a dull one towards my faults," said Lambourne. "Ay," said Varney, "so they lie not so grossly open that he must needs break his shins over them." "Agreed," said Lambourne.
While Staples remonstrated, Lambourne drank; and then setting down the pitcher, which was nearly emptied, with a deep sigh, he said, in an undertone, which soon rose to a high one as his speech proceeded, "Never mind, Lawrence; if I be drunk, I know that shall make Varney uphold me sober. But, as I said, never mind; I can carry my drink discreetly.
"Excellent, excellent," replied Lambourne; "why, thy limber bit of a thigh, thrust through that bunch of slashed buckram and tiffany, shows like a housewife's distaff when the flax is half spun off!" "Said I not so?" said the mercer, whose shallow brain was now overflowed in his turn; "where, then, where be this rascal pedlar? there was a pedlar here but now, methinks.
Now he and his cause must die together before a jeering mob. So much for the endeavours of Mr. Harry Boyce to be a man of honour! Mr. Harry Boyce should have stayed in his garret with his small beer and his rind of cheese. He was fit for nothing better, born to be a servitor, an usher. And he must needs claim Alison Lambourne for his desires and rifle her beauty!
Miss Lambourne looked up and spoke with some vehemence. "It comes to this, then, you would be beaten by what folks may say about you. Oh, brave!" "Lud, we are all beaten by what folks might say. Would you ride into London in your shift?" "I don't want to ride in my shift," she cried fiercely. "Perhaps not, ma'am. But perhaps I don't want to make love to your purse."
As soon as he came in, he withdrew himself to a cabinet of medals in a remote corner. Mr. Hadley approached the harpsichord and reached it just before it fell silent. Miss Lambourne looked up into his face. "Yes, shall we lay our heads together?" said he. "But I doubt mine would turn yours." "If you'll risk it, ma'am, I will." "La, sir, is this an offer? I protest I am all one blush."
"The Michael Lambourne whom I knew," continued the traveller, "was a likely fellow went always gay and well attired, and had a hawk's eye after a pretty wench." "Our Michael," replied the host, "had the look of a dog with a bottle at its tail, and wore a coat, every rag of which was bidding good-day to the rest." "Oh, men pick up good apparel in the wars," replied the guest.
Nay, the magician was still dogging the travellers' steps; for had he not made the little town of Abingdon his own by choosing it for the meeting-place of Mike Lambourne and Tressillian, and rebuilding in its neighbourhood the ruins of Cumnor Hall, on which the dews fell softly? Alas! the wizard would weave no more spells.
"Sir, the best hound will be sometimes at fault," answered Lambourne; "how should it serve me that this fellow should have thus evanished? You may ask mine host, Giles Gosling ask the tapster and hostler ask Cicely, and the whole household, how I kept eyes on Tressilian while he was on foot.
"VOTO A DIOS," answered Lambourne, "I expected a better welcome than I am like to meet, I think." "Why, thou gallows-bird thou jail-rat thou friend of the hangman and his customers!" replied Foster, "hast thou the assurance to expect countenance from any one whose neck is beyond the compass of a Tyburn tippet?"
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