But Elizabeth
retired not to her couch. She passed softly through the courtyard,
looking round as though in search of some individual. This proved to be
the hunchback Gregory, whom she found esconced behind a peat-stack in
marvellous profundity of thought. With a soft step, and one finger
raised to her lips, she gently tapped him upon the shoulder.
Looking round, he saw her gesture and was silent.
"Gregory, art thou honest?" she inquired, in a whisper.
"Why, an' it be, Mistress Elspeth, when it suits with my discretion;
that is, if discretion be none the worse for it, eh?"
"Thou art ever so, Gregory; and yet"--
"If ye want honesty, eschew a knave, and catch a fool by the cap. None
but fools worry and distemper themselves with this same pale-faced
whining jade, that will leave 'em i' the lurch at a pinch, Dame Honesty,
forsooth. More wit, more wisdom; and there is a plentiful lack of wit in
your honest folk," continued the cynic, as though pursuing a train of
thought to its ultimate development.
"Gregory, thou art not the rogue thee seems. I think beneath that rough
and captious speech there lurks more honesty than thou art willing to
acknowledge.
Pages:
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907