Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'Meddle thou not, even in thy thoughts, with things that are beyond
thee,' said lord Herbert. 'By what signs knewest thou mistress Dorothy
in the dark as she stood talking to the roundhead?'
'There was light enough to know woman from man, my lord.'
'And were there then that night no women in the castle but mistress
Dorothy?'
'Why, who else could it have been, my lord?'
'Why not thine own mother, Tom--rode thither on her broomstick to
deliver her darling?'
Tom gaped with fresh terror at the awful suggestion.
'Now, hear me, Thomas Rees,' his lordship went on.
'Yes, my lord,' answered Tom.
'An' ever it come to my knowledge that thou say thou then saw mistress
Dorothy, when all thou sawest was, as thou knowest, a woman who might
have been thine own mother talking to the roundhead, as thou callest a
man who might indeed have been Caspar Kaltoff in his shirt sleeves, I
will set every devil at my command upon thy back and thy belly, thy
sides and thy soles. Be warned, and not only speak the truth, as thou
hast for a whole half-hour been trying hard to do, but learn to
distinguish between thy fancies and God's facts; for verily thou art a
greater fool than I took thee for, and that was no small one. Get thee
gone, and send me hither mistress Watson.'
Tom crawled away, and presently mistress Watson appeared, looking
offended, possibly at being called to the workshop, and a little
frightened.
'I cannot but think thee somewhat remiss in thy ministrations to a sick
man, mistress Watson,' he said, 'to leave him so long to himself. Had he
been a king's officer now, wouldst thou not have shown him more favour?'
'That indeed may be, my lord,' returned mistress Watson with dignity.
'But an' the young fellow had been very sick, he had not made his
escape.'
'And left the blame thereof with thee. Besides, that he did for his
escape he may have done in the strength of the fever that followeth on
such a wound.'
'My lord, I gave him a potion, wherefrom he should have slept until I
sought him again.'
'Was he or thou to blame that he did not feel the obligation? When a man
instead of sleeping runneth away, the potion was ill mingled, I doubt,
mistress Watson--drove him crazy perchance.'
'She who waked him when he ought to have slept hath to bear the blame,
not I, my lord.'
'Thou shouldst, I say, have kept better watch. But tell me whom meanest
thou by that same SHE?'
'She who was found in his chamber, my lord,' said mistress Watson,
compressing her lips, as if, come what might, she would stand on the
foundation of the truth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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