Part 25 (1/2)
Goodwife Kendall knew that Sally had returned, but so discreet a tongue had she, that not even her sisters knew that the whereabouts of the maiden who had appeared neither at the breakfast nor the dinner table were unknown either to the parson or his wife.
There was silence as Maid Sally finished her strange, brave story.
Was her best friend, the kind parson, angry at what she had done? Would he blame her sharply, or cry shame on so bold a deed?
A queer note there was in his voice when he spoke at last.
”I am proud of thee, maid, proud of thee! Thou art fit to rank with the soldiers who would put down injustice and oppression. But why aid the young son of Sir Percival Grandison, why he in particular, eh?”
For a moment it was Sally's turn to be silent. Then she said, with her steadfast eyes on the parson's face:
”I have told you, sir, what floated to my ears. It was the first case wherein I bethought me that my own courage might serve my country in a way, and serve one of her sons, too.”
Parson Kendall was content with the reply.
”We worried over thee this morn,” he said, ”and have made quiet inquiries to-day, but all without letting any one know thou hadst really disappeared. Do not so try us again.”
”I will not,” said Maid Sally.
”Now get for thyself food and drink,” said the parson. ”I have sharp summons to attend upon Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who lieth ill at her house. I was about to set forth to visit her when thou appearedst. And after thy repast, thou hadst best go to thy bed at once. I will speak with Goodwife Kendall a moment concerning thy story. Long sleep wilt thou need after thy night's campaign.”
Sally smiled at the parson's speech. Full well she knew that while an army kept the field it was in ”campaign.”
”Did I keep the field last night, sir?” she inquired.
”Verily I think thou hadst the field all to thyself, from set out to finish,” smiled the parson. ”I am proud of thee! But let us know the next time when thou goest on rescue.”
”I will, sir,” said Maid Sally.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE QUEER NAME
When Sally, bright as a new sixpence, appeared at breakfast the next morning, Parson Kendall regarded her with much thoughtfulness. And when he said, soberly, ”I would see thee again in the library after thy meal is finished,” she wondered what he might have to say.
He spoke gently, but wasted no words as he began:
”Maid Sally Dukeen, it hath pleased G.o.d to take unto himself the woman, Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who departed this life at midnight just past.
”But there was that on her mind which it beseemed her must be told before she could die in peace. And she made confession that thy father left thee suddenly when thou wert but six years of age, and being a stranger, and thinking better of Mistress Brace than I greatly fear she deserved, he left thee in her care, together with a considerable sum of money, which was to pay for board and proper schooling.
”But being tempted of the Spirit of Evil, Mistress Brace used the money as if it was her own. A large portion of it she had spent, but some yet remains. This, she also confessed with tears and with sighs, she intended to put at interest as soon as some of our present troubles were over.
”What thy treatment was with Mistress Brace we need not dwell upon.”
”She was not cruel, sir,” said Maid Sally, wis.h.i.+ng in her tender young heart to speak kindly of the dead.
”Not cruel, perhaps, as to violent treatment, child,” said the stern, just parson, ”yet I hold it cruel, ah, very cruel, to have kept thee much as a serving-maid, and keeping back thy education as she did, and would have continued to have done, had it not been for the good blood in thy veins that cried out for better things.”