Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth CenturyFullerton, Georgiana
History
Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century
Fullerton, Georgiana
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction
"He goes even now," answered the earl; and both went to the window,
whence they could see the coach in which the duke was for the third
time carried from his home to the last lodging he was to have on this
earth. Oh, what a sorrowful sight it was for those young eyes which
gazed on the sad removal of the sole parent both had left! How her
tears did flow silently like a stream from a deep fount, and his with
wild bursts of grief, like the gushings of a torrent over rocks! His
head fell on her shoulder, and as she threw her arms round him, her
tears wetted his hair. Methought then that in the pensive tenderness
of her downcast face there was somewhat of motherly as well as of
wifely affection. She put her arm in his, and led him from the room;
and I remained alone for a short time entertaining myself with sad
thoughts anent these two young noble creatures, who at so early an age
had become acquainted with so much sorrow, and hoping that the
darkness which did beset the morning of their lives might prove but as
the clouds which at times deface the sky before a brilliant sunshine
doth take possession of it, and dislodge these deceitful harbingers,
which do but heighten in the end by contrast the resplendency they did
threaten to obscure.
CHAPTER VIII.
After I had been musing a little while, Mistress Bess ran into the
room, and cried to some one behind her:
"Nan's friend is here, and she is mine too, for we all played in a
garden with her when I was little. Prithee, come and see her." Then
turning to me, but yet holding the handle of the door, she said: "Will
is so unmannerly, I be ashamed of him. He will not so much as show
himself."
"Then, prithee, come alone," I answered. Upon which she came and sat
on my knee, with her arm round my neck, and whispered in mine ear:
"Moll is very sick to-day; will you not see her, Mistress Sherwood?"
"Yea, if so be I have license," I answered; and she, taking me by the
hand, offered to lead me up the stairs to the room where she lay. I,
following her, came to the door of the chamber, but would not enter
till Bess fetched the nurse, who was the same had been at Sherwood
Hall, and who, knowing my name, was glad to see me, and with a curtsey
invited me in. White as a lily was the little face resting on a
pillow, with its blue eyes half shut, and a store of golden hair about
it, which minded me of the glories round angels' heads in my mother's
missal.
"Sweet lamb!" quoth the nurse, as I stooped to kiss the pale forehead.
"She be too good for this world. Ofttimes she doth babble in her sleep
of heaven, and angels, and saints, and a wreath of white roses
wherewith a bright lady will crown her."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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