Great Britain -- History -- Stuarts, 1603-1714 -- Fiction
I took him after this talk to the sick-house, where Alice was
beginning her second night of nursing. Barnaby saluted his sister as
briefly as if her presence was the thing he most expected.
The room was lit by a horn lanthorn containing a great candle, which
gave enough light to see Robin on the bed and Alice standing beside
him. The woman called Deb was sitting on the floor, wrapped in her
rug.
'Sis,' said Barnaby, 'I have heard from Humphrey how thou wast
cozened out of thy money and enticed on board ship. Well, this world
is full of villains, and I doubt whether I shall live to kill them
all. One I must kill and one I must cudgel. Patience, therefore, and
no more upon this head. Well, Sis, dost love to be a servant?'
'Surely not, Barnaby.'
'Wouldst like to get thy freedom again?'
'I know not the meaning of thy words, brother. Madam says that those
who have interest at home may procure pardons for their friends in
the Plantations. Also that those whose friends have money may buy
their freedom from servitude. I am sure that Mr. Boscorel would
willingly do this for Robin and for Humphrey; but for myself--how
can I ask him? How can I ever let him know where I am and in what
condition?'
'Ay, ay, but I meant not that way, child; wilt thou trust thyself to
us?'
She looked at Robin. 'I cannot leave him,' she said.
'No, no; we shall wait until he is dead--or, perhaps, better.' But
he only added this to please his sister. 'When he is better, Sis,
thou wilt not be afraid to trust thyself with us?'
'I am not afraid of any danger, even of death, with you, if that is
the danger in your mind, Barnaby.'
'Good! Then we understand each other. There are other dangers for a
young and handsome woman--and, maybe, worse dangers. Hast any money
at all, by chance?'
'Nay; the man Penne took all my money.'
Barnaby, for five or six minutes without stopping, spoke upon this
topic after the manner of a sailor. 'My turn will come,' he added.
'No money, child? 'Tis a great pity. Had we a few gold pieces, now!
Some women have rings and chains. But of course----'
'Nay, brother; chains I never had, and as for rings, there were but
two that ever I had--one from Robin, the day that I was plighted to
him; and one from the man who made me marry him, and put it on in
the church. The former did I break and throw away when I agreed--for
your dear lives--Barnaby, oh! for the lives of all'----
'I know, I know,' said Barnaby. 'Patience--patience. Oh! I shall get
such a chance some day!'
'The other I threw away when I fled from my husband at the church
door.'
'Ay, ay! If we only had a little money! 'Tis pity that we should
fail for want of a little money.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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