But Nicholas Brune was in a generous mood; and he replied, "Shelter shalt thou have, fair Ella, and meat and drink, with right good will, for a week and a day, without cost or payment. If thou stayest with us longer, which God send, we will talk about purveyance. In the meantime I will thank this gentleman for his goodness to you. Why, by my tongs, I think I saw him riding this morning with my noble lord, the Count." "You did, most likely," replied Richard of Woodville, "for we passed by your door: but I have farther to ride to-night, Master Nicholas; and now, having seen this fair maiden safe under your protection, I will leave her there. But you had better send up some of your lads with speed to my hostel for the coffer that we brought, as, perchance, Ned Dyram would not let you have it, Ella, when I am gone." Ella Brune smiled, with an effort to keep up the light cheerfulness which she had lately assumed, and replied, "I think, noble sir, that Master Dyram is not a carl to refuse me aught I ask him; but yet if my kinsman can spare a boy, he had better go at once." "I will soon find one," answered the stout goldsmith; and, turning to a furnace-room, which lay behind his shop, he called one of his men forth, and bade him follow the gentleman back. The parting then came between Ella Brune and Richard of Woodville; and bitter was the moment to the poor minstrel girl. She had learned a world of new sensations since she first saw him;--that clinging attachment, which made her long never to be absent from his side for a whole day; that tender regard which made her dread to see him depart, lest evil should befal him by the way; that love which is full of fears for the beloved that we never feel for ourselves. But no one could have told that there were any emotions in her bosom but respect and gratitude, unless the transitory look of deep grief that crossed her face, as she bent down her head to kiss the hand he gave her, could have been seen. It was gone as soon as she raised her eyes again; and her countenance was bright and cheerful, when he said-- "Again my will although I wende, I may not alway dwellen here, For everything shall have an ende, And frendes are not ay ifere:" and, skilled in all the lore of old ballads, almost as much as himself, she answered at once, from that beautiful song of the days of the Black Prince-- "For frendship and for giftès goode, For mete and drink so grete plentie, That lord that raught was on the roode, He kepe the comeli companie. "On sea or lande where that ye be, He governe you withouten greve; So good disport ye han made me, Again my will, I take my leve."