Part 18 (1/2)

”But you have not told me what shall come of them.”

”I told thee not! I have been answering thy questions thicker than any blackberries. My tongue fair acheth; I spake not so much this week past.”

”How do you mock me, Father!”

”I will be sad as a dumpling, my la.s.s. I reckon, Mistress, all they shall be sent up to London unto the Council, without there come command that the justices shall deal with them.”

”And what shall be done to them?”

”Marry, an' I had my way, they should be well whipped all round, and packed off to Spain. Only the galley-slaves, poor lads!--they could not help themselves.”

”Here 's the leech come, Master,” said Jennet, behind them.

Sir Thomas hastened back into the house, and the two sisters followed more slowly.

”Oh, behold Aunt Rachel!” said Blanche. ”She will tell us somewhat.”

Now, only on the previous evening, Rachel had been a.s.serting, in her strongest and sternest manner, that nothing,--no, nothing on earth!-- should ever make her harbour a Spaniard. They were one and all ”evil companions;” they were wicked Papists; they were perturbators of the peace of our Sovereign Lady the Queen; hanging was a luxury beyond their deserts. It might therefore have been reasonably expected that Rachel, when called upon to serve one of these very obnoxious persons, would scornfully refuse a.s.sistance, and retire to her own chamber in the capacity of an outraged Briton. But Rachel, when she spoke in this way, spoke in the abstract, with a want of realisation. When the objectionable specimen of the obnoxious ma.s.s lifted a pair of suffering human eyes to her face, the ice thawed in a surprisingly sudden manner from the surface of her flinty heart, and the set lips relaxed into an astonis.h.i.+ngly pitying expression.

Blanche, outwardly decorous, but with her eyes full of mischief, walked up to Rachel, and desired to know how it fared with the Spanish gentleman.

”Poor lad! he is in woeful case!” answered the representative of the enraged British Lion. ”What with soul and body, he must have borne well-nigh the pangs of martyrdom this night. 'Tis enough to make one's heart bleed but to look on him. And to hear him moan to himself of his mother, poor heart! when he thinks him alone--at least thus I take his words: I would, rather than forty s.h.i.+llings, she were nigh to tend him.”

From which speech it will be seen that when Rachel did ”turn coat,” she turned it inside out entirely.

”Good lack, Aunt Rachel! what is he but an evil companion?” demanded irreverent Blanche, with her usual want of respect for the opinions of her elders.

”If he were the worsest companion on earth, child, yet the lad may lack his wounds dressed,” said Rachel, indignantly.

”And a Papist!”

”So much the rather should we show him the betterness of our Protestant faith, by Christian-wise tending of him.”

”And an enemy!” pursued Blanche, proceeding with the list.

”Hold thy peace, maid! Be we not bidden in G.o.d's Word to do good unto our enemies?”

”And a perturbator of the Queen's peace, Aunt Rachel!”

”This young lad hath not much perturbed the Queen's peace, I warrant,”

said Rachel, uneasily,--a dim apprehension of her niece's intentions crossing her mind at last.

”Nay, but hanging is far too good for him!” argued Blanche, quoting the final item.

”Thou idle prating hussy!” cried Rachel, turning hastily round to face her,--vexed, and yet laughing. ”And if I have said such things in mine heat, what call hast thou to throw them about mine ears? Go get thee about thy business.”

”I have no business, at this present, Aunt Rachel.”

”Lack-a-daisy! that a cousin [then used in the general sense of relative] of mine should say such a word! No business, when a barrelful of wool waiteth the carding, and there is many a yard of flax, to be spun, and cordial waters to distil, and a full set of s.h.i.+rts to make for thy father, and Jack's gown to guard [trim] anew with lace, and thy mother's new stomacher--”

”Oh, mercy, Aunt Rachel!” cried lazy Blanche, putting her hands over her ears.