The Child of the Moat: A Story for Girls. 1557 A.D.Stoughton Holborn, I. B. (Ian Bernard)
History
The Child of the Moat: A Story for Girls. 1557 A.D.
Stoughton Holborn, I. B. (Ian Bernard)
Adventure stories; Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Mary I, 1553-1558 -- Juvenile fiction
“I’m thankful for that,” said Ian, and then recounted his experiences.
He omitted the bone incident, but concluded by saying,--“We must be
careful about that birch twig. She evidently set it as a trap.”
“Do you suppose that she discovered the inner cave, the cave room
itself?” asked Audry apprehensively.
“Not at all likely,” said Ian. “She cannot stand up straight even;
besides she was not there long enough; of that I am certain.”
Audry gave a sigh of relief.
“But she may tell other people,” said Ian. “You must keep your ears
open very carefully.”
It was an awe inspiring prospect, the future certainly was not
reassuring.
In order to give a new turn to the conversation Aline said:--“Do you
know, the day before yesterday I went over to Newbiggin and talked
to several of the people? I did not ask any questions, but they told
me a great deal of themselves. There evidently are some pretty fair
scoundrels in the village, even on their own showing.”
“What are you going to do?” said Ian.
“I do not know yet,” she said, “I must find out some more, but I am
tolerably sure that the villains are in the minority.”
“I do not suppose there is much to choose,” said Audry. “I should let
them all go. Why trouble yourself?”
“But, Audry,” Aline objected, “you yourself hate unfairness; and I
cannot bear to think of Mistress Mowbray having her own way with those
who are innocent.”
“I think, also, my princess enjoys some other kinds of fighting than
with foils,” Ian interposed.
“Well, perhaps there’s a little bit in that too; my father was a
fighter.”
“Somehow, little one,” said Ian, “I cannot help wishing you would
leave it alone. I feel you would be better to have nothing to do with
Newbiggin. It sounds very silly, but old Moll lives in Newbiggin, and I
have a strange dread of it that I cannot explain.”
“That is very curious,” said Audry, “so have I. There has been
something weighing on me like a bad dream for many days. I cannot
explain it. Aline, dear, you let it alone.”
“I wish you two would not talk like that,” said Aline, “because I have
had exactly the same feeling and it is most uncanny; but I cannot give
up the Newbiggin people because of my feelings.”
“Come, let us have some fun,” she continued; “we look as if we had not
a backbone among us.”
She went to the sword-chest as she spoke and took out a pair of foils.
“Now, this will do my stiffness good, and Audry can act as umpire.”
They had a good deal of practice since the first encounter. Ian was
really a brilliant master of the art and was much amused at the way
that Aline had completely hoaxed him. Aline made rapid progress and Ian
used to tell her that, child as she was, she would probably be able
to account for a fairly average swordsman, so little was the art then
understood in Scotland or England.
After a bout or two, they sat down to rest.
“You know,” said Ian, “I think I ought to be leaving you soon. I am
ever so much better than I was and it would be well for me to be away.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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