Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
run out to witness what they expected would be an accident. Intensely
angry and with scarlet cheeks, Mistress Betty gazed haughtily at the
cause of her misadventure. The rider of the piebald was a man far
below average size, thin and wiry, with a small, dark face, grizzled
hair and mustaches, and eyes of such keenness and so intensely black
that they startled the observer, saving their owner from any charge
of insignificance. Insignificant he was not, in spite of his small
stature and his plain garments, which were russet in color from his
high riding-boots to his cloak, which he wore after the fashion of the
Spaniards. Encountering now Mistress Carew’s indignant gaze, he took
off his hat with elaborate courtesy and congratulated her on her safety
as if he were unconscious of having had any part in the matter.
“It was fortunate that I came at the moment, fair mistress,” he said;
and she noticed that he had a singular but not unpleasant voice. “You
are riding too spirited an animal for a lady; let me recommend a
gentler one to Sir Edmund.”
Betty started at the mention of Bedingfield’s name, but recollecting
how well he was known in the neighborhood of Kimbolton, she thought it
but folly to be surprised that the stranger knew to whose party she
belonged.
“I thank you, sir,” she said, a little curtly; “the horse has never
acted so before unless switched, and, indeed, I do not think he would
have run had you ridden at a more moderate pace.”
“I grieve to think myself the cause of your discomfort, madam,” the
stranger replied, but with an amused smile. “Jack Kotch and I never go
slow,” he added, turning his horse, and, to her annoyance, keeping at
Betty’s rein as she went toward the inn.
“It is ill judged to run a horse so close to one standing as mine was,”
she said, still too angry to let the matter pass.
“It is, and I crave your pardon,” the other rejoined cheerfully;
“another time I will bring my horse to a walk, Mistress Carew.”
Betty looked up amazed at hearing her own name, and encountered the
stranger’s wonderful eyes with a gleam of amusement in them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account