Tressilian's chamber, speaking almost at the same moment. - « Here is a serving-man on the bonniest grey tit I ever see'd in my life, » said Will Badger, who got the start; having on his arm a silver cognisance, being a fire-drake holding in his mouth a brick-bat, under a coronet of an Earl's degree,» said Master Mumblazen, « and bearing a letter sealed of the same. » Tressilian took the letter, which was addressed << To the worshipful Master Edmund Tressilian our loving kinsman - These-Ride, ride, ride, for thy life, for thy life, for thy life. He then opened it, and found the following contents: << MASTER TRESSILIAN, OUR GOOD FRIEND AND COUSIN, << We are at present so ill at ease, and otherwise so unhappily circumstanced, that we are desirous to have around us those of our friends, on whose loving kindness we can most especially repose confidence; amongst whom we hold our good Master Tressilian one of the foremost and nearest, both in good will and good ability. We therefore pray you, with your most convenient speed, to repair to our poor lodging, at Say's Court, near Deptford, where we will treat farther with you of matters which we deem it not fit to commit unto writing. And so we bid you heartily farewell, being your loving kinsman to command, Send up the messenger instantly, Will Badger,» said Tressilian; and as the man entered the room, he exclaimed, « Aha, Stevens, is it you? how does my good lord? » « Ill, Master Tressilian, » was the messenger's reply, «< and having therefore the more need of good friends around him. » « But what is my lord's malady? » said Tressilian anxiously, «I heard nothing of his being ill?» <«< I know not, sir » replied the man, «he is very ill at ease. The leeches are at a stand, and many of his household suspect foul pratice; witchcraft, or worse. » « What are the symptoms?» said Wayland Smith, stepping forward hastily. << Anan? >> said the messenger, hending his meaning. not compre << What does he ail? «said Wayland; « where lies his disease? >> The man looked at Tressilian, as if to know whether he should answer these inquiries from a stranger, and receiving a sign in the affirmative, replied. Stevens then hastily enumerated gradual loss of strength, nocturnal perspiration, loss of appetite, faintness, etc. Joined,» said Wayland, « to a gnawing pain in the stomach, and a low fever. » << Even so said the messenger, somewhat surprised. « I know how the disease is caused,» said the artist, «< and I know the cause. Your master has eaten of the manna of Saint Nicholas. I know the cure too - my master shall not say I studied in his laboratory for nothing.»> « How mean you? » said Tressilian frowning, « we speak of one of the first nobles of England. Bethink you, this is no subject for buffoonery. >> » « God forbid!» said Wayland Smith. « I say that I know his disease, and can cure him. Remember what I did for Sir Hugh Robsart. » « We will set forth instantly," said Tressilian. « God calls us. » he Accordingly, hastily mentioning this new motive for his instant departure, though without mentioning either the suspicions of Stevens, or the assurances of Wayland Smith, took the kindest leave of Sir Hugh and the family at Lidcote-Hall, who accompanied him with prayers and blessings, and, attended by Wayland and the Earl of Sussex's domestic, travelled with the utmost speed towards London. CHAPTER XIII. Ay, I know you have arsenick, The Alchemist. TRESSILIAN and his attendants pressed their route with all dispatch. He had asked the smith, indeed, when their departure was resolved on, whether he would not rather chuse to avoid Berkshire, in which he had played a part so conspicuous. But Wayland returned a confident answer. He had employed the short interval they passed at Lidcote Hall in transforming himself in a wonderful manner. His wild and overgrown thicket of beard was now restrained to two small moustachios on the upper lip, turned in a military fashion. A tailor from the village of Lidcote (well paid) had exerted his skill, under his customer's directions, so as completely to alter Wayland's outward man, and take off from his appearance almost twenty years of age. Formerly, besmeared with soot and charcoalovergrown with hair, and bent double with the nature of his labour disfigured too by his odd and fantastic dress, he seemed a man of fifty years old. But now, in a handsome suit of Tressilian's livery, with a sword by his side, and a buckler on his shoulder,, he looked like a gay ruffling serving-man, whose age might be betwixt thirty and thirty-five, the very prime of human life. His loutish savage-looking demeanour seemed equally changed, into a forward, sharp, and impudent alertness of look and action. When challenged by Tressilian, who desired to know the cause of a metamorphosis so singular and so absolute, Wayland only answered by singing a stave from a comedy, which was then new, and was supposed, among the more favour. able judges, to augur some genius on the part of the author. We are happy to preserve the couplet, which ran exactly thus,— Although Tressilian did not recollect the verses, yet they reminded him that Wayland had once been a stage-player, a circumstance which, of itself, accounted indifferently well for the readiness with which he could assume so total a change of personal appearance. The artist himself was so confident of his disguise being completely changed, or of his having completely changed his disguise, which may be the more correct mode of speaking, that he regretted they were not to pass near his old place of retreat. |