He began, however, to whine and wring his hands and said that he had not long to live if he could not win these ladies to do the wills of the violent people who had taken that Castle, not but what it might not be said that they had not some shew of equity on their sides. "I thought we should come near there," the Lady Margaret said; "come, Master, what is the worst on ’t?" "Ah, gentle lady," the lawyer said, "this is at the best a grievous matter; at the worst it is...." And he waved his hand as if there were no speaking of it. "Go on," the Lady Margaret said grimly. "I have been so confused," the lawyer answered, "with much running here and there and seeing such blood flow and the hearing of such threats...." "Come, come," the lady said, "you are a man of law and such a clever one that if I threw you out of this window you could tell the law of it or ever you fell to the ground." "I am not saying," he retorted, with a sort of relish, "that I go in doubts concerning the law. What perplexes and affrights me is the fall of great and powerful lords. As to the torts, replevins, fines, amercements and the other things too numerous to recite, I am clear enough." "Well, it is in the fall of mighty lords that the rats of your trade find bloody bones to gnaw," she answered him. "But if you are too amazed at the contemplation of the wealth that you shall make out of this to tell me, get you gone. If not, speak shortly, or I warrant you a few cousins of mine shall burn this Castle and you in a little space." The lawyer shrank at these words and she went on: "I trysted with my cousin Widdrington to meet him at Glororem at six to-night and bade him fetch me hence with what companions he needed at twelve if I were not home, so you have but an hour." "Ah, gentle lady," the lawyer said, "it is three hours." "Well then, you have kept me twelve hours here," the lady said; "I shall pay you in full for your entertainment." "Ah, gentle lady," the lawyer sighed, "not me, not me!" She answered only: "Out with your tale." He hesitated for a moment, and then began with another sigh: "For your noble cousin Paris, Lord Lovell, I fear it is all done with him." "I think he may be dead that he did not come to his betrothal with me," the lady said. "If that is so you have my leave to tell me." "It is worse than that," he groaned. "Woe is me, that noble lordings should bend to violent passions." The Lady Margaret looked at him with disdain. "If ye would tell me," she said, "that the Young Lovell is gone upon a sorcery, ye lie." Again the lawyer sighed. "It is too deeply proven," he said. "These poor eyes did see him and two other pairs—both his well-wishers, even as I am." "Even whose?" she asked. "And what saw ye?" "For the eyes," the lawyer said, "they were those of the Decies and of an ancient goody called Meg of the Foul Tyke."