Part 16 (1/2)

”I had thought you understood me,” said she very simply.

”Then 'tis time you understood I did not,” said I, roundly, ”and what's more I think you should not neither. It is not maidenly reading;” and indeed I was staggered that so much of a man's actions should lie open to any girl's eye that had the trick of cyphers, to peruse them.

Idonia lifted her eyebrows pretty high, hearing me speak so, but presently shut up the book, and putting it by, said a little wearily--

”I had meant to help you, Denis, but you are over-dull, I find; or if you be apt 'tis not in learning. Some lads there be think to get a living other ways, though other ways I know not to be so honest, though haply as easy.”

'Twas on my tongue to retort upon her with a speech in the same kind, but I had to confess I could not frame one half so wittily, and therefore said very tragical--

”I stay not where I am not welcome,” and taking up my cap, bowed very low to Idonia, who for her part, paid no heed to me, and although I halted once or twice on my way to the door, stood averse from me, as being careless whether I stayed or went.

”I am not reckoned over-dull at sword play,” I muttered, when I had got as far as I could, without departing altogether.

”Oh, if you think to fence for a living, sir,” said Idonia, over her shoulder, ”I pity your father.”

”He needs none of your pity, mistress,” cried I.

”I know not where better to bestow it,” she replied, ”unless it be upon a boy with twelve s.h.i.+llings and no wit to add to them.”

Now, how one I had so handsomely benefited could yet run into this excess of obstinacy as she did, I stood astonished to consider, and in my heart called her a thankless wench, and myself a preposterous a.s.s to remain there any longer. Notwithstanding had I had the sense to read the account between us whole, I doubt Mistress Avenon owed not a whit more to me than I to her; although in my resentment she seemed then a very Jacob Hornebolt, and as gross a defaulter upon the balance as that dilatory Hollander.

”Then I leave you to better companions.h.i.+p,” said I, having run my length, ”and to such as have at the least the wit to please you, which I have not, all done.”

What she would have said to that I cannot guess, for before she could speak there came a thundering rattle at the door and a voice calling upon her to open in the Queen's name.

”Dear G.o.d!” whispered the girl. ”'Tis the soldiers come,” and stood facing me, distraught and quaking.

”Is it you they seek?” I asked, quick, but could not hear what she answered me, for the knocking drowned all.

”Up the ladder,” I bade her. ”Go, and draw it after. I will abide the event.”

'Twas this advice steadied her, although she refused it. Instead, she shook off my hand that would have led her, and going to the ladder by which I had descended, drew it away from the trap in the wall and laid it along the floor.

”They would but use the same means to follow me,” she said, and so without more ado went to the door and opened it. A score of halberdiers burst into the hall.

”What is your will, masters?” demanded Idonia; and her pride I had before denounced I found commendable enough, now she directed it against these intruders.

One that seemed to be their Captain stepped forth, and having slightly saluted her with a hand to his morion, turned leisurely to his following, and bade them shut the gate; which done, he posted them, some before the ways accessible to the hall, and the rest under a sergeant, in the rooms above it, that he commanded them strictly to scrutinize. The soldiers had no sooner obeyed him than he drew forth a paper largely sealed, which he told us, with a great air, was Her Grace's commission and gave warrant to search this messuage of Petty Wales for any such as might seem to be obnoxious to the Queen's peace, there harbouring.

The Captain was a tall, ill-favoured youth, of a behaviour quite lacking of courtesy, yet well enough matched to the task he had in hand; for he spoke in a slow and overbearing voice that betokened as much doubt of another's honesty, as satisfaction for the power given him to apprehend all that should withstand him. Idonia and I stood some distance apart, and after a swift glance at me, the Captain addressed himself to the girl solely, and with so evident a mistrust of her, as it maddened me to hear him.

”Your name, mistress?” said the Captain.

”Idonia Avenon,” she replied carelessly, though I could not but grieve to note how pale she continued.

”And your father, he lives here with you?”

”He is dead,” said she.

”Who inhabits here, then, besides yourself?”