Part 7 (2/2)
Gathering the garments she desired together across her arm, she went again to the bed, and looked down, her eyes growing tender. ”I fear me 'tis an unmaidenly thing to even dream o' doing, but if 'tis done, 'tis done for thee, dear heart, albeit without thy consent or Dad's. There will be scant risk o' discovery--we be too much alike. People have wearied us both prating of the likeness. Now 'twill serve; just two or three nights' masquerade for me an' thou wilt be thyself again.”
Stooping, she kissed the bruised face and went away.
In her own room Debora made quick work of changing her dress. It was an awkward business, for the doublet and green tabard seemed fairly possessed to go contrariwise; the hose were unmanageable, and the cordovan long boots needed stuffing at the toes. Here and there upon the suit was broidered the Lord Chamberlain's coat of arms in gold thread, and when all was finished Deb looked at herself and felt she was a gorgeous and satisfying sight. ”Marry! but men be fond o' fine feathers,” she thought, studying her reflection.
Then, letting down the coils of auburn hair, she drew the glittering strands through her fingers. ”I would it might just be tucked up--it pleasures one little to cut it off. Beshrew me! If I so resemble Darby with such a cloud o' hair about me, what will I be like when 'tis trimmed to match his?” Taking the shears she deliberately severed it to the very length of her brother's. The love-locks curled around her oval face in the self-same charming way.
”My heart! 'tis all most vastly becoming,” she exclaimed, fastening the pointed collar. ”I liked thee as a girl, Deb, but I love thee, nay, I dote on thee as a lad! Now must I stride an' speak in mannish fas.h.i.+on ('tis well there go'th a long cloak with the suit, for on that I rely to hearten my courage); also I bethink me 'twould be wise to use some strong flavoursome words to garnish my plain speech. By Saint George!
now, or Gad Zooks! Heart's mercy! stay'th the hat so? or so? Alack!
my courage seem'th to ooze from my boot-heels. Steady, true heart, steady! Nay then, I cannot do it. I will not do it--it look'th a very horror to me. Oh! my poor, pretty hair; my poor, pretty hair!”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I like thee as a girl, Deb; but I love thee as a lad”]
On a sudden the girl was down on the floor, and the long locks were caught together and pa.s.sionately held against her lips. But it was only for a moment. When the storm was over she rose and dashed the mist of it from her eyes.
”What must be, must be! I cannot think on any other plan. I would there were an understudy, but there be none. So must I take the part for Darby--and for Master William Shakespeare.”
So saying, Debora went below to the room where the table was laid for breakfast, walking along the hall with a firm step, for her mind was made up and she was never one to do things by halves.
Taking her brother's place she knocked briskly on the little gong and waited. Master Blossom started to answer the summons in a slow-footed, ponderous way peculiar to him, yawning audibly at intervals upon the way.
The Sabbath morn was one whereon good folk should sleep long, and not look to be waited on early, according to him. Dame Blossom herself was but just astir, and lodgers were at best but an inconsiderate lot.
Cogitating on these things he entered the room, then stood stock still as though petrified, his light blue eyes vacant with astonishment.
The dainty figure at the table swinging one arm idly over its chair back made no sign, unless the impatient tapping of a fas.h.i.+onable boot-toe upon the sanded floor might be taken for one.
”Ods fis.h.!.+” exclaimed Blossom, moving heavily a few steps nearer. ”I'
f.e.c.ks! but thee art a very dai-asy, young Maister! Dost mind how 'A put 'e to bed? Thou'st pulled tha' self together marvellous, all things considered!
”Marry, where be tha' black eye? 'twere swelled big as a ribstone pippin!”
”Beefsteak,” answered Deb, laconically. ”Beefsteak, my lively Blossom.
Tie a piece on tight next time thou hast an eye like mine--an' see what thou shalt see.”
”But where gottest thou the beefsteak?”
”Egad! where does any one get it? Don't stand there chattering like a magpie, but bring me my breakfast. This head I have doth not feel like the head o' Darby Thornbury. 'Tis nigh to breaking. Fetch me my breakfast and give over staring at a man. See'st aught odd enough about me to make thee go daft?”
”I' f.e.c.ks! 'tis the first time 'A ever heard thee call so loud for breakfast after such a bout as thine o' yestere'en! I wonder thou hast stomach for 't. Howbeit, 'tis thine own affair.”
The girl bit her lip. ”Nay,” she said with cool accent, ”I may have small appet.i.te for it--but, as thou say'st, 'tis mine own affair.”
”Thou need'st good advice more than breakfast, young Maister,” said Blossom, solemnly. ”Thy sister was in a way, 'A tell thee. Thou art become a roisterer, a drinker an' a gambler that lives but to hear the clink o' gold against the table. Ay! Such a devil-may-care gambler, an' thou had'st a beard an' no money thou would'st stake that o'er the dice. Being these things, an' a player o' plays, marry! 'A see no fair end ahead o' thee.”
”Oh! get thee away an' send thy good wife--thou dost make my nerves spin with thy prating. Get thee away,” said Deb, petulantly.
”Zounds! but thou art full like thyself in speech. Too much wine i'
thy stomach one day makes a monstrous uncivil tongue i' thy head next.”
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