For the Love of Lady Margaret: A Romance of the Lost ColonyWilson, William Thomas
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For the Love of Lady Margaret: A Romance of the Lost Colony
Wilson, William Thomas
Roanoke Colony -- Fiction
"The rogue," he mumbled, and turning he strode to the wall and touched
a great brass gong that hung there. "Thou didst speak of thy wounds,"
he said. "How camest thou by them; wert in the fleet that met the
Spanish Armada?"
"Yes," I answered, "I was, then----"
"How did the fight go?" he eagerly interrupted me. "Do the Spaniards
even now sail up the Thames to sack the city?"
"Hardly," I answered. "They are beaten and scattered, with Drake and
Hawkins in hot pursuit."
"Good!" he shouted joyously. "But thou--why, we thought thee dead long
ere this."
"'Tis a long tale," I replied, "and I will tell it to thee to-morrow."
"I forgot," he said hastily, with red cheeks, "and I beg thy pardon;
for once curiosity got the better of my manners."
"Where is the note that the seaman had for me, Sam?" he asked, as the
old man who had opened the door for us appeared.
"Here, thy honor," he said, as he handed a paper to Sir Henry. "The man
begs thy pardon for not delivering it at once, but I dragged him away
to drink a glass with me, to celebrate the defeat of the Spaniards, and
I am sure that thou wilt forgive his remissness," and he smiled with
the ease of an old favorite.
"Begone!" said Sir Henry. "I pardon thee at such a time as this, but
let it not occur again."
"No, Sir," mumbled the old man, and he shambled quickly out of the door.
Sir Henry was reading the note, a frown upon his face, and as he
finished he looked up.
"Right sorry I am to hear this, Sir Thomas," he said. "Thou shalt have
such comforts as the place affords while thou art here, which I trust
will not be long. I have a leech in the house who shall dress thy
wounds. But come, I will show thee to thy cell," and rising, he took
from his belt a large bunch of keys, and motioned me to follow him.
I did so, leaving Richard, his head bowed as though in thought, in his
chair by the table.
Corridor after corridor we crossed; stair after stair we ascended and
descended, winding in and out the long, silent halls as though we would
never reach our destination. DeGray trod them with the ease of one
who knows every nook and cranny by heart. We met only a few people,
seemingly guards, and just as I had almost given up in despair, my
guide halted in front of one of the innumerable doors, and fitting the
key in the lock, opened it, motioning me to enter.
The windows were secured by a heavy grating, and there was only the
simplest kind of furniture in the room, only a bed, a rough table,
and a chair or two, that was all. The room was fairly large and clean
though, but that was about all that could be said of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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