“William, William!” said old Bertram stepping up to him, “you can’t deceive me: something has met you in the forest. Why would you not stop at home? Something has crossed you on the road, I’ll swear.
William was struck with the old mail’s seriousness, and replied—“Well, yes; I acknowledge, some thing has crossed me. But wait for nine days: before then, you know yourself that—”
“Gladly, gladly, my son,” said Bertram: “and God be praised, that it is any thing of that kind which can wait for nine days. Trouble him not, wife; Kate, leave him at peace!—Beshrew me, but I had nearly done thee wrong, William, in my thoughts, now, my good lad, go to bed, and rest thyself. “Night,” says the proverb, “is no man’s friend.” But be of good cheer: the man that is in his vocation, and walks only in lawful paths, may bid defiance to the fiends of darkness, and all their works.”
William needed his utmost powers of dissimulation to disguise from the old man’s penetration how little his suspicions had done him
