"Since when?" I asked.
"That too concerneth me," said Peter, who liked not my mirth. "I shall
wed her anon; and till then I would have her kept clear of your
company."
"Pass the mug, Peter Stoupe, and cease your funning. The day sweet
Jeannette weds with you, I will saddle the horse shall carry you to
church. Till then, if I catch so much as her name on your foul lips, I
will drop you, feet uppermost, in the mud of Fleet Ditch. So make a
bargain of it."
He turned green at that, for he guessed I meant what I said.
"What?" began he; "you who ruined my master, and robbed--"
Here I sprang to my feet, and he stopped short.
"Robbed whom?" demanded I.
"Enough," said he, motioning me to sit down. "I resolved, when you
came, to hold no parley with you, and I repent me I have done so.
Henceforth, Humphrey Dexter, we are strangers."
"Be what you will," said I, "only keep a civil tongue in your head."
And I went up to bed.
Now this was yet another trial to Peter, who had been used to lie alone
while I was absent, and now loathed that I should rob him thus of half
his kicking room. But he durst say naught. Only he lay at the far
edge, and, instead of saying his prayers, cursed me between his teeth.
It was in my heart to pity Peter Stoupe that night. For it was plain I
had come in an evil hour for him. Master Walgrave had been hoodwinked
by his smooth manners and lying tongue, and was fain to believe he owed
him more for the duty he had done while his master was in gaol than in
truth he did. Nor durst my mistress thwart him over much for the same
cause. As for Jeannette--if she humoured him and endured his
civilities, 'twas because she was ever kind. So all was going well with
Peter when I chanced home, who knew him for his worth and promised to
spoil his sport. Little wonder, then, if he hated to see me, and kept
at the far edge of the bed.
However, I had more to think of than him; and, finding him deaf, even
when I tried to be civil, I busied myself with other thoughts, and fell
asleep, to dream a jumbled dream of Ludar, and Jeannette, and the
captain of the _Misericorde_.
I remember I dreamed that Ludar and Jeannette were keeping the watch on
deck while I slept below; and that my hour being come, the captain had
come down to fetch me, and was standing over me; when I awoke suddenly,
and, in the dim moonlight, saw a real figure at the bedside. It was
Peter Stoupe, and, though I could scarce see his face, I knew he was
glowering on me, white in his hand he slowly lifted a knife above my
heart. I was motionless, not with terror--for his hand trembled so it
could scarce have dealt a deadly blow--but with horror to find such a
man at such a deed. So, though my eyes were open, he saw not that I was
awake, and with a gasp brought down his hand. Mine was out in time to
catch him by the wrist. "Peter Stoupe!" I cried; "are you gone mad?"
'Twas pitiful to see him then drop on his knees, his face as white as
the sheets, and with quaking lips beg for mercy.
"Oh, Humphrey!" he gasped; "forgive--I knew not what I was-- Yes, I was
mad--forgive this once--"
"Forgive!" said I, "you ask the wrong person. You are on your knees;
ask Him who is above to forgive you! 'Tis Him you have wronged, more
than me. And when you have done, come back to bed, for I am weary."
I know not if he prayed, or what he did. But presently, when he came
back to bed, he lay very still and cold, and when we rose in the morning
never a word spake either of us of what had passed that night.
But, as I expected, we were none the better friends for all that. For
though he durst never lift his voice in my hearing again, he scowled at
me under his brows, and, as I suppose, wished he had done what he tried
to do that night. I found it best to let him be, even when he made up
to Jeannette, which happened but seldom, and then little to his comfort.
But when, after a month or more, his articles being ended, he took his
hat and left the shop for good, I was not surprised, nor were my master
or mistress over-much cast down.
As for me, I had a shrewd guess Peter Stoupe had not yet done with me.
All went happily, then, in the house without Temple Bar. Only my little
mistress held me off more than she had been wont, and was graver with
me. Yet it was happiness to see she counted somewhat on my company, and
scorned not to ask my arm whenever she needed its help.
Often and often she made me tell her of my journeyings, and of Ludar and
the maiden. And her bright eyes would glisten as she heard how they
were parted and what they had suffered for one another. And she longed
to see both, and was ever wondering where they were and how they fared.
But the spring wore into summer, and the summer grew towards autumn,
before a word of news came.
Then one Sunday, Will Peake, my old adversary, walked into the shop with
a monstrous letter in his hand, tied round with blue silk and sealed
black at either end.
I had seen Will often since I came back to London, but had always
forgotten to tell him, that when I was put to it to advise Ludar where
he might hear of me, I had told him to send to my brother 'prentice on
London Bridge, who, if any, might be counted on to know where I was to
be found.
So now, when a letter was come, Will was vastly wroth that he should be
mixed up in the matter, and needed much satisfying that 'twas a sign of
friendship and nothing else that made me give his name, he being--as I
told him--the only trusty man of my acquaintance in London.
"I like it not, Humphrey Dexter," said he, tossing down the letter.
"The air is full of treason. Only to-day there is talk in the city of
some new conspiracy in the North, and 'tis not safe to get a missive
from so much as your lady-love. There, take it. I am rid of it; and,
hark you, let no man know I had it in my fingers. Farewell."
The letter was in a great and notable hand, which, I was sure, did not
belong to Ludar. Yet it was addressed:
"_To the worthy 'prentice Humphrey Dexter, by the hand of one Will
Peake, a mercer's man on London Bridge, give these_--"
With beating heart, I took the letter to where Jeannette sat in the
garden, and bade her break the seal.