ith gold buttons and loops;--is it not of an absolute
fancy, Janet?"

"Nay, my lady," replied Janet, "if you consult my poor judgment, it is,
methinks, over-gaudy for a graceful habit."

"Now, out upon thy judgment, if it be no brighter, wench," said the
Countess. "Thou shalt wear it thyself for penance' sake; and I promise
thee the gold buttons, being somewhat massive, will comfort thy father,
and reconcile him to the cherry-coloured body. See that he snap them not
away, Janet, and send them to bear company with the imprisoned angels
which he keeps captive in his strong-box."

"May I pray your ladyship to spare my poor father?" said Janet.

"Nay, but why should any one spare him that is so sparing of his own
nature?" replied the lady.--"Well, but to our gear. That head garniture
for myself, and that silver bodkin mounted with pearl; and take off two
gowns of that russet cloth for Dorcas and Alison, Janet, to keep the old
wretches warm against winter comes.--And stay--hast thou no perfumes and
sweet bags, or any handsome casting bottles of the newest mode?"

"Were I a pedlar in earnest, I were a made merchant," thought Wayland,
as he busied himself to answer the demands which she thronged one on
another, with the eagerness of a young lady who has been long secluded
from such a pleasing occupation. "But how to bring her to a moment's
serious reflection?" Then as he exhibited his choicest collection of
essences and perfumes, he at once arrested her attention by observing
that these articles had almost risen to double value since the
magnificent preparations made by the Earl of Leicester to entertain the
Queen and court at his princely Castle of Kenilworth.

"Ha!" said the Countess hastily; "that rumour, then, is true, Janet."

"Surely, madam," answered Wayland; "and I marvel it hath not reached
your noble ladyship's ears. The Queen of England feasts with the noble
Earl for a week during the Summer's Progress; and there are many who
will tell you England will have a king, and England's Elizabeth--God
save her!--a husband, ere the Progress be over."

"They lie like villains!" said the Countess, bursting forth impatiently.

"For God's sake, madam, consider," said Janet, trembling with
apprehension; "who would cumber themselves about pedlar's tidings?"

"Yes, Janet!" exclaimed the Countess; "right, thou hast corrected me
justly. Such reports, blighting the reputation of England's brightest
and noblest peer, can only