Tom thought a good deal about Rosamund during the week, and regarded Sunday as the red-letter day of his calendar.  Master Cale did not forbid him to be of their company upon the afternoons when they walked abroad, and he and the maid were excellent friends by this time, and exchanged many gay quips and sallies together.  Rosamund always made him tell the story of his past week in some detail; and Tom had therefore another motive for keeping free from scenes and company which would have made his story unfit hearing for her pretty ears.

Already he had begun to think that when he had travelled and seen the world, and was ready to go home and take up the duties which at five and twenty would devolve upon him, he would return with far greater contentment and pleasure if he could take back Rosamund as his wife.  He could not fancy that any life would be dull and monotonous shared with her, nor any home dreary that was lightened by the sunshine of her presence.

The image of Rosamund had begun almost to obliterate that of Lord Claud in his imagination, when suddenly one day he found himself again in company of that gentleman at the coffee house he generally frequented.

Lord Claud laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder, saying, with a light laugh: 

“O Tom, Tom, whom I called so trusty, I fear me you are as fickle as any maid!  But what does the prophet when the mountain will not come to him?  He even puts his pride in his pocket and goes to the mountain.  You are a solid mountain in your way, good Tom; and here is the prophet come after you!”

Tom looked up, half ashamed, half flattered, the charm of Lord Claud’s presence beginning at once to make itself felt.

“My lord, I could not think you wanted such a humble person as myself!  And you had but to send me a line to Master Cale’s if you did,” he stammered.

Lord Claud dropped into the seat next him, laughing a light, low-toned laugh.

“I like your simplicity, my honest Tom.  Keep it as long as you can; for it is a quality rarely met with in these days, and smells as sweet as lavender in country gardens.  I have not been wont to need to ask my friends to visit me.  They swarm about my rooms like bees round honey, so long as there be honey to gather from my hive.  How do you think you are going to live, my young friend, when your store of guineas is melted, if you have not learned that noble art of picking and stealing, which our young blades of fashion practise with such success and grace?”

So the acquaintance was renewed, Tom quickly falling again beneath the spell of the strong personality of Lord Claud.  He had not entirely ceased his sword practice with Captain Raikes during the past weeks, and now was to be found at his hall almost every day.  Lord Claud himself would sometimes come and watch and applaud; and more than once, as the two had walked away together, linked arm in arm, his patron had said: