Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'I thank you, my lord, with all my heart,' said Dorothy, with troubled
look, 'but--may I then speak without offence to your lordship, where my
heart knoweth nought but honour, love, and obedience?'
'Speak what thou wilt, so it be what thou would'st,' answered the
marquis.
'Then pardon me, my lord, that which would have made my mother sad, and
would make my good master Herbert sorry that he brought me hither. He
would fear I had forsaken the church of my fathers.'
'And returned to the church of thy grandfathers--eh, mistress Dorothy?
And wherefore, then, should that weigh so much with thee, so long as
thou wert no traitor to our blessed Lord?'
'But should I be no traitor, sir, an' I served him not with my best?'
'Thou hast nothing better than thy heart to give him, and nothing worse
will serve his turn; and that we two have offered where I would have
thee offer thine--and I trust, Herbert, the offering hath not lain
unaccepted.'
'I trust not, my lord,' responded Herbert.
'But, my lord,' said Dorothy, with hot cheek and trembling voice, 'if I
brought it him upon a dish which I believed to be of brass, when I had
one of silver in the house, would it avail with him that your lordship
knew the dish to be no brass, but the finest of gold? I should be
unworthy of your lordship's favour, if, to be replaced in the honour of
men, I did that which needed the pardon of God.'
'I told thee so, sir!' cried lord Herbert, who had been listening with
radiant countenance.
'Thou art a good girl, Dorothy,' said the marquis. 'Verily I spoke but
to try thee, and I thank God thou hast stood the trial, and answered
aright. Now am I sure of thee; and I will no more doubt thee--not if I
wake in the night and find thee standing over me with a drawn dagger
like Judith. An' my worthy Bayly had been at home, perchance this had
not happened; but forgive me, Dorothy, for the gout is the sting of the
devil's own tail, and driveth men mad. Verily, it seemeth now as if I
could never have behaved to thee as I have done. Why, one might say the
foolish fat old man was jealous of the handsome young puritan! The wheel
will come round, Dorothy. One day thou wilt marry him.'
'Never, my lord,' exclaimed Dorothy with vehemence.
'And when thou dost,' the marquis went on, 'all I beg of thee is, that
on thy wedding day thou whisper thy bridegroom: "My lord of Worcester
told me so;" and therewith thou shalt have my blessing, whether I be
down here in Raglan, or up the great stair with little Molly.'
Dorothy was silent. The marquis held out his hand. She kissed it, left
the room, and flew to the top of the keep.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE HOROSCOPE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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