Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'I see!' cried Scudamore. 'For all thy fine reproof, thou too canst
spurn a heart at thy feet. I will lay my life thou lovest the roundhead,
and art but a traitress for all thy goodness.'
'I am indeed traitress enough to love any roundhead gentleman better
than a royalist knave,' said Dorothy; and turning from him she sought
the grand staircase.
CHAPTER XLI.
GLAMORGAN.
The winter passed, with much running to and fro, in foul weather and
fair; and still the sounds of war came no nearer to Raglan, which lay
like a great lion in a desert that the hunter dared not arouse. The
whole of Wales, except a castle or two, remained subject to the king;
and this he owed in great measure to the influence and devotion of the
Somersets, his obligation to whom he seemed more and more bent on
acknowledging.
One day in early summer lady Margaret was sitting in her parlour, busy
with her embroidery, and Dorothy was by her side assisting her, when
lord Herbert, who had been absent for many days, walked in.
'How does my lady Glamorgan?' he said gaily.
'What mean you, my Herbert?' returned his wife, looking in his eyes
somewhat eagerly.
'Thy Herbert am I no more; neither plume I myself any more in the spare
feathers of my father. Thou art, my dove, as thou deservest to be,
countess of Glamorgan, in the right of thine own husband, first earl of
the same; for such being the will of his majesty, I doubt not thou wilt
give thy consent thereto, and play the countess graciously. Come,
Dorothy, art not proud to be cousin to an earl?'
'I am proud that you should call me cousin, my lord,' answered Dorothy;
'but truly to me it is all one whether you be called Herbert or
Glamorgan. So thou remain thou, cousin, and my friend, the king may call
thee what he will, and if thou art pleased, so am I.'
It was the first time she had ever thou'd him, and she turned pale at
her own daring.
'St. George! but thou hast well spoken, cousin!' cried the earl. 'Hath
she not, wife?'
'So well that if she often saith as well, I shall have much ado not to
hate her,' replied lady Glamorgan. 'When didst thou ever cry "well
spoken" to thy mad Irishwoman, Ned?'
'All thou dost is well, my lady. Thou hast all the titles to my praises
already in thy pocket. Besides, cousin Dorothy is young and meek, and
requireth a little encouragement.'
'Whereas thy wife is old and bold, and cares no more for thy good word,
my new lord of Glamorgan?'
Dorothy looked so grave that they both fell a-laughing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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