Earl Hubert's Daughter. Emily Sarah Holt

proceeded to display his goods. Very rich, costly, and beautiful they were. The finest lawn of Cambray (whence comes “cambric”), and the purest sheeting of Rennes, formed a background on which were exhibited rich diapered stuffs from Damascus, crape of all colours from Cyprus, golden baudekyns from Constantinople, fine sendal from India, with satins, velvets, silks, taffetas, linen and woollen stuffs, in bewildering profusion. Over these again were laid rich furs—sable, ermine, miniver, black fox, squirrel, marten, and lamb; and trimmings of gold and silver, gimp and beads, delicate embroidery, and heavy tinsel.

      “Here, Lady, is a lovely thing in changeable sendal,” said the old man, hunting for it among his silks: “it would be charming for the fair-haired damsel—(lift off that fox fur, Cress)—blue and gold. Or here—a striped tartaryn, which would suit the dark young lady—orange and green. Then—(Cress, give me the silver frieze)—this, Lady, would be well for the little maid, for somewhat cooler weather. And will my Lady see the Cyprus? (Hand the pink one, Cress.) This would make up enchantingly for the damsel that was in my Lady’s chamber.”

      “Where is Doucebelle?” asked the Countess, looking round. “I thought she had come. Marie, run and fetch her.—Hast thou any broidery-work of the East Country, good man?”

      “One or two small things, Lady.—Cress, give me thy sister’s scarves.”

      The young man unfolded a woollen wrapper, and then a lawn one inside it, and handed to his father three silken scarves, of superlatively fine texture, and covered with most exquisite embroidery. Even the Countess, accustomed as her eyes were to beautiful things, was not able to suppress an admiring ejaculation.

      “This is lovely!” she said.

      “Those are samples,” remarked the pedlar, with a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. “I have more, of various patterns, if my Lady would wish to see them. She has only to speak her commands.”

      “Yes. But—these are all imported, I suppose?”

      “All imported, such as I have shown to my Lady.”

      “I presume no broideress is to be found in England, who can do such work as this?” said the Countess in a regretful tone.

      “Did my Lady wish to find one?”

      “I wished to have a scarf in my possession copied, with a few variations which I would order. But I fear it cannot be done—it would be almost necessary that I should see the broideress myself, to avoid mistakes; and I would fain, if it were possible, have had the work done under my own eye.”

      “That might be done, perhaps. It would be costly.”

      “Oh, I should not care for the cost. I want the scarf for a gift; and it is nothing to me whether I pay ten silver pennies or a hundred.”

      “Would my Lady suffer her servant to see the scarf she wishes to have imitated?”

      “Fetch it, Levina,” said the Countess; “thou knowest which I mean.”

      Levina brought it, and the pedlar gave it very careful inspection.

      “And the alterations?” he asked.

      “I would have a row of silver harebells and green ferns, touched with gold, as an outer border,” explained the Countess: “and instead of those ornaments in the inner part, I would have golden scrolls, worked with the words ‘Dieu et mon droit’ in scarlet.”

      The pedlar shook his head. “The golden scrolls with the words can be done, without difficulty. But I must in all humility represent to my Lady that the flowers and leaves she desires cannot.”

      “Why?” asked the Countess in a surprised tone.

      “Not in this work,” answered the pedlar. “In this style of embroidery”—and he took another scarf from his pack—“it could be wrought: but not in the other.”

      “But that is not to be compared with the other!”

      “My Lady has well said,” returned the pedlar with a smile.

      “But I do not understand where the difficulty lies?” said the Countess, evidently disappointed.

      “Let my Lady pardon her servant. We have in our company—nay, there is in all England—one broideress only, who can work in this style. And I dare not make such an engagement on her behalf.”

      “Still I cannot understand for what reason?”

      “Lady, these flowers, leaves, heads, and such representations of created things, are the work of Christian hands. That broidery which my Lady desires is not so.”

      “But why cannot Christians work this broidery?”

      “Ha! They do not. My Lady’s servant cannot speak further.”

      “Then what is she who alone can do this work? What eyes and fingers she must have!”

      “She is my daughter,” answered the pedlar, rather proudly.

      “But I am sure the woman who can broider like this, is clever enough to make a row of harebells and ferns!”

      “Clever enough—oh yes! But—she could not do it.”

      “ ‘Clever enough,’ but ‘could not do it’—old man, I cannot understand thee.”

      “Lady, she would account it sin to imitate created things.”

      The Countess looked up with undisguised amazement.

      “Why?”

      “Because the Holy One has forbidden us to make to ourselves any likeness of that which is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath.”

      “But I would pay her any sum she asked.”

      “If my Lady can buy Christian consciences with gold, not so a daughter of Israel.”

      The old man spoke proudly now, and his head was uplifted in a very different style from his previous subservient manner. His son’s lip was curled, and his black eyes were flashing fire.

      “Well! I do not understand it,” answered the Countess, looking as much annoyed as the sweet Princess Margaret knew how to look. “I should have thought thy daughter might have put her fancies aside; for what harm can there be in broidering flowers? However, if she will not, she will not. She must work me a border of some other pattern, for I want the scarf wider.”

      “That she can do, as my Lady may command.” The old Jew was once more the obsequious tradesman, laying himself out to please a profitable customer.

      “What will be the cost, if the scarf be three ells in length, and—let me see—about half an ell broad?”

      “It could not be done under fifteen gold pennies, my Lady.”

      “That is costly! Well, never mind. If people want to make rich gifts, they must pay for them. But could I have it by Whitsuntide?—that is, a few days earlier, so as to make the gift then.”

      The pedlar reflected for a moment.

      “Let my Lady pardon her servant if he cannot give that answer at this moment. If my daughter have no work promised, so that she can give her time entirely to this, it can be done without fail. But it is some days since my Lady’s servant saw her, and she may have made some engagement since.”

      “I am the better pleased thou art not too ready to promise,” said the Countess, smiling. “But what about the work being done under my eye? I will lodge thy daughter, and feed her, and give her a gold penny extra for it.”

      The old Jew looked very grave.

      “Let my Lady not be angered with the lowest of her servants! But—we are of another religion.”

      “Art thou afraid of my converting her?” asked the Countess, in an amused tone.

      “Under