Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"My father was slain in a sea-battle long since," she told me, "when he
went in the _Three Half Moons_ with others that traded with the Seville
merchants, but falling in with a fleet of Turkey, they were nearly all
taken prisoners, but my father was killed."
"You were a child then?" I asked her, and she said she was but an
infant; and that her mother was long since dead also, and that she had
no brothers.
She seemed as though she were about to add more, but just then the sick
man revived, opening his eyes and gazing upon us as one that seemed to
consider how we twain should be together in such a place. I got up
from where I had been kneeling beside him and stood to stretch myself;
but was surprised to find how painful my own hurts were, which I had
almost forgotten to have received. I suppose Idonia saw me flinch, for
she suddenly cried out, "Mr. Denis, Mr. Denis, I will come to you," and
leaving Malpas where he lay, rose and came over to me, when she took me
very gently by the arm and made me sit, as indeed I needed little
persuasion to do. Howbeit I was (as I have said) scarcely scratched,
and should have felt foolish at the elaborate business she made of it,
had not her hair been so near to my lips.
But presently, and while we were thus employed, she with dressing my
hurts, and I with such and such affairs, Idonia whispered--
"Doth he know where you lodge?"
"Yes," said I, "he discovered the place to-night," and told her where
it was, and of the kindness Master Gregory had shown me.
"I knew not his name," she interrupted me hurriedly, while making
pretence to busy herself with the tightening a bandage, "nor of what
authority he were that took you from me when you were hurt before; but
he looked at me as at one that would not use you well, and in the end
spoke something roughly to me, so that I dared not follow you. Ah!
these upright staid men!" she added with a world of bitterness; but
then, "Now your lodging is known, you must leave it straightway, sir."
"I am not used to run away," said I, more coldly than I had meant to
do, and she said no more. When we looked up Malpas had gone.
We looked at each other without speaking for admiration of the strength
and secrecy he had shown in thus stealing off.
"I must go too," I said presently, and saw her eyes widen in dismay.
"Beware of him!" she whispered. "He doth not forget. And see! he hath
not neglected to take his sword;" as indeed, most marvellously, he had
done.
"Well, he serves an honest gentleman," quoth I carelessly, "so that if
I have cause to think he plots against my life, I shall lay my
complaint before my lord Pembroke."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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