ned to attribute to glamour the reluctant admiration with
which she had inspired him. "For," said he, "though I deny not that the
maid is passing fair, there be many with rosier cheeks, and taller by
this hand!"

Nicholas listened, at first, with the peculiar expression of shrewd
sarcasm which mainly characterized his intelligent face, but his
attention grew more earnest before Marmaduke had concluded.

"In regard to the maiden," said he, smiling and shaking his head, "it is
not always the handsomest that win us the most,--while fair Meg went a
maying, black Meg got to church; and I give thee more reasonable warning
than thy timbrel-girls, when, in spite of thy cold language, I bid
thee take care of thyself against her attractions; for, verily, my dear
foster-brother, thou must mend and not mar thy fortune, by thy love
matters; and keep thy heart whole for some fair one with marks in her
gipsire, whom the earl may find out for thee. Love and raw pease are two
ill things in the porridge-pot. But the father!--I mind me now that I
have heard of his name, through my friend Master Caxton, the mercer, as
one of prodigious skill in the mathematics. I should like much to see
him, and, with thy leave (an' he ask me), will tarry to supper. But what
are these?"--and Nicholas took up one of the illuminated manuscripts
which Sibyll had prepared for sale. "By the blood! this is couthly and
marvellously blazoned."

The book was still in his hands when Sibyll entered. Nicholas stared at
her, as he bowed with a stiff and ungraceful embarrassment, which often
at first did injustice to his bold, clear intellect, and his perfect
self-possession in matters of trade or importance.

"The first woman face," muttered Nicholas to himself, "I ever saw that
had the sense of a man's. And, by the rood, what a smile!"

"Is this thy friend, Master Nevile?" said Sibyll, with a glance at
the goldsmith. "He is welcome. But is it fair and courteous, Master
Nelwyn--"

"Alwyn, an' it please you, fair mistress. A humble name, but good
Saxon,--which, I take it, Nelwyn is not," interrupted Nicholas.

"Master Alwyn, forgive me; but can I forgive thee so readily for thy
espial of my handiwork, without license or leave?"

"Yours, comely mistress!" exclaimed Nicholas, opening his eyes,
and unheeding the gay rebuke--"why, this is a master-hand. My Lord
Scales--nay, the Earl of Worcester himself--hath scarce a finer in all
his amassment."

"Well, I forgiv