Mistress Margery | Page 5

in her hand a
valuable necklace. Richard came into the banqueting-hall from one
door, as Margery made her appearance from the opposite one.
"I have a letter from Sir Geoffrey to bear to Sir Ralph Marston," said he.
"Have you any commands for Marston, Mistress Margery?" he
mischievously added.
"Master Pynson," said Margery, earnestly, in a low tone, "I pray you to
take this jewel to Master Carew, and to leave it in pledge with him, in
case he will lend me the book. If he value it at more than this, I can
send other jewels; but, Master Pynson, bring me the book!"
Richard placed the necklace for safety in the bosom of his doublet, and
answered, "Fear not, good mistress; if I bring you not the book, it shall
not be for lack of entreaty. Only hope not too much, for I may chance
to fail."
"Pray God he lend you the book!" was her only answer.

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Note. The Sangraal was the vessel in which the wine was contained
which Christ gave to His disciples, saying, "Drink ye all of this;" this
vessel was supposed to have been brought into England by Joseph of
Arimathea; and the "quest" or search for this important relic formed
one of the chief adventures of the Knights of the Round Table.
CHAPTER TWO.
A LATE DINNER.
"And there is something in this book That makes all care be gone, And
yet I weep--I know not why-- As I go reading on!"
Mary Howitt.
Margery went into the kitchen, and helped to prepare supper, under the
directions of Dame Lovell, and then she returned to her own room, and
tried to finish her illumination of Peter and Malchus; but she could not
command her thoughts sufficiently to paint well, so much was her heart
set on "the book." Therefore she sat with her hands folded in her lap,
and tried to recall Sastre's sermon. Then came supper-time, and
Margery went down to the banqueting-hall; and after supper, having
begged her parents' blessing before retiring to rest, she came back to
her chamber. But she did not attempt to undress. When the sun set, a
red glory above the tree-tops, she was watching at her casement for
Richard Pynson; and when the silver moon and the little golden stars
had taken the sun's place in the heavens, she was watching still. At last
she heard the sound of a horse's feet, and stole softly down the private
staircase which led from her room to the hall. As Richard entered the
hall, Margery softly murmured his name.
"What, Mistress Margery!" he cried, in astonishment. "You here! You
have watched well for the book, and--there it is."
And Richard drew from the bag slung over his shoulder a small quarto
volume.

"Oh, thanks, good Master Pynson, a thousand thanks!" cried Margery,
in delight. "And how long season may I keep the book?"
"Master Carew said," returned Pynson, "that he asked not jewels for the
safe-keeping of the book, for the word of a Lovell was enough," and
Richard drew the necklace from his bosom and handed it to Margery.
"He will lend the book for one month's time. He said, furthermore, that
he lent it, not because he loved it not, but because he prayed that you,
Mistress Margery, might know and love it too."
"Amen!" was Margery's answer, as she folded the book to her bosom,
and crept softly back to her chamber--but not to bed. The first thing she
did was to take off her petticoat and cote-hardie, and to put on a loose
dressing-gown of grey serge. Then she divested herself of her
head-dress, and allowed her fair hair to flow down over her shoulders
without restraint. Having thus rendered herself comfortable, she seated
herself in a carved chair, furnished with an ample cushion, and
proceeded to examine the book.
The book was bound in leather, dark brown in colour, and simple in
workmanship. It was clasped with two small clasps of common metal,
washed over with silver; the leaves were of vellum, and on the first
page was a badly-drawn and violently-coloured illumination of Christ
and the Samaritan woman. Stops (as a rule) it had not, except a full stop
here and there; and capitals there were none, with the occasional
exception of a letter in red ink. Notwithstanding this, the manuscript,
being written in a clear small hand, was very legible to eyes
accustomed to read only black letter. At first Margery felt as if she
were doing wrong in reading the book, but her curiosity drew her on, as
well as her earnest desire to know more of those "strange things" of
which Sastre had spoken in his sermon. Margery had taken the
precaution of fastening the door before she commenced