"Thou hast not vexed me, Barbara, only—— I would I had the secret of thy courage." "Nay, thou hast courage enough, only somewhat too much thought. Were I to sit and dream all day of what evils might befall Rupert I should be as sad-eyed as thou art. But indeed no news is good news. The world is a good place, and I see not why one may not hope for happy days until sad ones befall us, eh!" They were interrupted by the entrance of the waiting-maid. "I were loath to trouble ye, Mistress Barbara," she began, "but ’tis a zertain tiresome vellow, Simon the pedlar, who asks to show you his wares. To my thinking he hath nought worth a glance, and I had zent un about his bizness speedily; but a be a mozt stubborn fellow and will not depart until a zee ye. A zays a hath zomething of great value but a be a vellow will say aught to gain a hearing, I know un well." Barbara’s face brightened suddenly and she sprang eagerly from her seat. "’Tis well, Phoebe, take the fellow in; I will come on the instant." "Why, Barbara!" exclaimed Cicely in astonishment; "what would you with the man? Would’st plenish thy store of linsey or tapes that thou art so ready to see him?" "An I dream not, Cis, he will have wares more precious than those." "What!" cried Cicely with awakened interest. "Is it possible the fellow hath stuffs from London with him? I would willingly buy, an it be so." Barbara laughed and pinched her cousin’s chin. "Thou little vanity! Thou worshipper of gauds and ribbons!" she cried with much solemnity; "I verily believe thou would’st sell thy soul for two dozen yards of Genoa velvet. But come; we will see what he has to show us." On entering the large wainscotted hall the girls found the pedlar standing in the embrasure of one of the windows, his pack tying unopened at his feet. He was an aged, wizened-looking creature upon whose face greed and cunning had laid their stamp. Cicely eagerly eyeing the pack addressed herself to him with a slight air of hauteur. "Well, fellow, where are your wares? Have you aught of rarity or value to show us?" "Ay, that have I, mistress," he answered in a high-pitched grating voice, with an air of impertinent familiarity. "I have that here which will bring light to the dullest eye, a blush to the palest cheek, and joy to the saddest heart. ’Tis not over rare neither, yet ’tis ever held to be of the greatest value." "Why what mean you? What should this be?" "A letter, mistress! a love-letter I doubt not." "A letter! From whom?" "From one of whom your ladyship hath long wished to hear, and hath well-nigh heard from no more," he answered with a brutal laugh. Cicely’s eyes flashed, her whole body trembled with eagerness. "Ah! give it me, give it me, my good man; why hast thou delayed so foolishly?"