to a lover abandoned by his mistress and abandoning himself."
Varney, smothering a sneering laugh, answered, "He believed Master Tressilian had no such matter in his head."
"How!" said Leicester; "what meanest thou? There is ever knavery in that laugh of thine, Varney."
"I only meant, my lord," said Varney, "that Tressilian has taken the sure way to avoid heart-breaking. He hath had a companion--a female companion--a mistress--a sort of player's wife or sister, as I believe--with him in Mervyn's Bower, where I quartered him for certain reasons of my own."
"A mistress!--meanest thou a paramour?"
"Ay, my lord; what female else waits for hours in a gentleman's chamber?"
"By my faith, time and space fitting, this were a good tale to tell," said Leicester. "I ever distrusted those bookish, hypocritical, seeming-virtuous scholars. Well--Master Tressilian makes somewhat familiar with my house; if I look it over, he is indebted to it for certain recollections. I would not harm him more than I can help. Keep eye on him, however, Varney."
"I lodged him for that reason," said Varney, "in Mervyn's Tower, where he is under the eye of my very vigilant, if he were not also my very drunken, servant, Michael Lambourne, whom I have told your Grace of."
"Grace!" said Leicester; "what meanest thou by that epithet?"
