"
"You are pleasant, Sir John. Your tricks are well enough in court-hours.
Come, be serious, and tell me thou hast had a fool's errand out of me."
"I never was more serious in my life, Weldon, I do vouch, as my head
shall swing safely on its pivot. But who gave thee a message--and to
whom?"
"To our fair hostess at Myerscough. Thy page thrust a scrap of writing
into my hand after prayers. The request was, that I should see the
accompanying billet safely delivered, and with mine own hand, without
loss of time. It was one of your curiously-folded fantastic
love-billets, as I thought. Knowing I could well be spared hence, I
immediately took horse, and came in a bath of foam to the lady; but when
she opened her pretty token, she drew herself erect with great majesty.
'Tell Sir John Finett,' said she, 'that when he next sends thee forth on
his fooleries, to choose another butt; to shoot his arrows where they
will stick, or his goose-feathers may fly back again.'"
Horror almost deprived Sir John of utterance. That some foul play had
been meditated, and in all probability accomplished, was but too plain;
but how, or by whom, was inscrutable as ever.
Pages:
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568