At this moment, Master Potts, who had scented a quarrel afar, and who would have liked it well enough if its prosecution had not run counter to his own interests, quitted Roger Nowell, and ran back to Metcalfe, and plucking him by the sleeve, said, in a low voice—­

“This is not the way to obtain quiet possession of Raydale House, Sir Thomas.  Master Nicholas Assheton,” he added, turning to him, “I must entreat you, my good sir, to be moderate.  Gentlemen, both, I caution you that I have my eye upon you.  You well know there is a magistrate here, my singular good friend and honoured client, Master Roger Nowell, and if you pursue this quarrel further, I shall hold it my duty to have you bound over by that worthy gentleman in sufficient securities to keep the peace towards our sovereign lord the king and all his lieges, and particularly towards each other.  You understand me, gentlemen?”

“Perfectly,” replied Nicholas.  “I drink at John Lawe’s to-night, Sir Thomas.”

So saying, he walked away.  Metcalfe would have followed him, but was withheld by Potts.

“Let him go, Sir Thomas,” said the little man of law; “let him go.  Once master of Raydale, you can do as you please.  Leave the settlement of the matter to me.  I’ll just whisper a word in Sir Ralph Assheton’s ear, and you’ll hear no more of it.”

“Fire and fury!” growled Sir Thomas.  “I like not this mode of settling a quarrel; and unless this hot-headed psalm-singing puritan apologises, I shall assuredly cut his throat.”

“Or he yours, good Sir Thomas,” rejoined Potts.  “Better sit in Raydale Hall, than lie in the Abbey vaults.”

“Well, we’ll talk over the matter, Master Potts,” replied the knight.

“A nice morning’s work I’ve made of it,” mused Nicholas, as he walked along; “here I have a dance with a farmer’s pretty wife, a discourse with a parson, a drinking-bout with a couple of clowns, and a duello with a blustering knight on my hands.  Quite enough, o’ my conscience! but I must get through it the best way I can.  And now, hey for the May-pole and the morris-dancers!”

Nicholas just got up in time to witness the presentation of the May Queen to Sir Ralph Assheton and his lady, and like every one else he was greatly struck by her extreme beauty and natural grace.

The little ceremony was thus conducted.  When the company from the Abbey drew near the troop of revellers, the usher taking Alizon’s hand in the tips of his fingers as before, strutted forward with her to Sir Ralph and his lady, and falling upon one knee before them, said,—­“Most worshipful and honoured knight, and you his lovely dame, and you the tender and cherished olive branches growing round about their tables, I hereby crave your gracious permission to present unto your honours our chosen Queen of May.”