Part 56 (1/2)

”Even an a.s.s knows when he's sick!” he called out to me. But I laughed at him and saw his broad paddle stab the water, and the birchen craft shoot out among the reeds.

Now it was in my thoughts to see how Mistress Penelope would choose to conduct, who had so long and so tranquilly ignored me.

For here was I established upon the spot where she had been accustomed to sit through the long afternoons ... and think on Steve Watts, no doubt!...

Comes Mistress Penelope in sprigged gown of lavender, and smelling fresh of the herb itself or of some faint freshness.

I rested both hands upon the arms of my Windsor chair and so managed to stand erect.

She turned rosy to her ear-tips at the sudden encounter, but her voice was self-possessed and in nowise altered when she greeted me.

I offered my hand; she extended hers and I saluted it.

Then she seated herself at leisure in her Windsor reading-chair, laid her basket of wool-skeins upon the polished book-rest, and calmly fell to knitting.

”So, you are mending fast, sir,” says she; and her smooth little fingers travelling steadily with her s.h.i.+ning needles, and her dark eyes intent on both.

”Oh, for that,” said I, ”I am well enough, and shall soon be strong to strap war-belt and sling pack and sack.... Are you in health, Mistress Pen?”

She expressed thanks for the civil inquiry. And knitted on and on. And silence fell between us.

If it was then that I first began to fear I was in love with her, I do not surely remember now. For if such a doubt a.s.sailed me, then instantly my mind resented so unwelcome a notion. And not only was there no pleasure in the thought, but it stirred in me a kind of breathless anger which seemed to have long slumbered in its own ashes within me and now gave out a dull heat.

”Have you news of Lady Johnson and of Mistress Swift?” I asked at last.

She lifted her eyes in surprise.

”No, sir. How should news come to us here?”

”I thought there might be channels of communication.”

”I know of none, sir. York is far, and the Canadas are farther still. No runners have come to Summer House.”

”Still,” said I, ”communication was possible when I got my hurt last June.”

”Sir?”

”Is that not true?”

She looked at me in troubled silence.

”Did not Lady Johnson's brother come here in secret to give her news, and take as much away?”

She did not answer.

”Once,” said I, ”although I had not asked, you told me that you were a friend to liberty.”

”And am so,” said she.

”And have a Tory lover.”