yonder, by the leafless elm, the white robe of Sibyll Warner. Go and
plead thy suit."

"Do I understand you, my lord?" said Alwyn, somewhat confused and
perplexed by the tone and the manner Hastings adopted. "Does report
err, and you do not love this maiden?"

"Fair master," returned Hastings, scornfully, "thou hast no right that
I trow of to pry into my thoughts and secrets; I cannot acknowledge my
judge in thee, good jeweller and goldsmith,--enough, surely, in all
courtesy, that I yield thee the precedence. Tell thy tale, as
movingly, if thou wilt, as thou hast told it to me; say of me all that
thou fanciest thou hast reason to suspect; and if, Master Alwyn, thou
woo and win the lady, fail not to ask me to thy wedding!"

There was in this speech and the bearing of the speaker that superb
levity, that inexpressible and conscious superiority, that cold,
ironical tranquillity, which awe and humble men more than grave
disdain or imperious passion. Alwyn ground his teeth as he listened,
and gazed in silent despair and rage upon the calm lord. Neither of
these men could strictly be called handsome. Of the two, Alwyn had
the advantage of more youthful prime, of a taller stature, of a more
powerful, though less supple and graceful, frame. In their very
dress, there was little of that marked distinction between classes
which then usually prevailed, for the dark cloth tunic and surcoat of
Hastings made a costume even simpler than the bright-coloured garb of
the trader, with its broad trimmings of fur, and its aiglettes of
elaborate lace. Between man and man, then, where was the visible, the
mighty, the insurmountable difference in all that can charm the fancy
and captivate the eye, which, as he gazed, Alwyn confessed to himself