The Lion's Whelp: A Story of Cromwell's TimeBarr, Amelia E.
History
The Lion's Whelp: A Story of Cromwell's Time
Barr, Amelia E.
Great Britain -- History -- Stuarts, 1603-1714 -- Fiction
"But you do not understand; they——"
"And I do not want to understand; I have settled that affair to my
satisfaction. Now I must tell you something concerning myself. I am
going to France."
"France!" cried Jane in amazement.
"Yes, France. I have persuaded my uncle that he ought to go there, and
look after the _Sea Rover_. I have persuaded my aunt that it is not
safe for my uncle to go without her; and they both know my reason for
going with them, although we do not name Prince Rupert."
"When do you go, Matilda?"
"To-morrow, if Stephen be ready. And let me tell you, Jane, Stephen’s
readiness depends on you."
"That is not so."
"It is. I hope you will be definite, Jane. You have kept poor Stephen
dangling after you since you were ten years old."
"What about Cymlin and yourself?"
Then Matilda laughed, and her countenance changed, and she said
seriously, "Upon my word and honour, I was never nearer loving Cymlin
than I was last night, yet he was never less deserving of it. ’Tis a
good story, Jane. I will not pretend to keep it from you, though I
would stake my last coin on Cymlin’s silence about the matter. He came
into my presence, as he always does, ill at ease; and why, I know not,
for a man more handsome in face and figure it would not be easy to find
in England. But he has bad manners, Jane, confess it; he blushes and
stumbles over things, and lets his kerchief fall, and when he tries to
be a gallant, makes a fool of himself."
"You are talking of my brother, Matilda, and you are making him
ridiculous, a thing Cymlin is not, and never was."
"Wait a bit, Jane. I was kind to him, and he told me about his life in
Ireland, and he spoke so well, and looked so proper, that I could not
help but show him how he pleased me. Then he went beyond his usual
manner, and in leaving tried to give me a bow and a leg in perfect court
fashion; and he made a silly appearance, and for the life of me I could
not help a smile—not a nice smile, Jane; indeed, ’twas a very scornful
smile, and he caught me at it, and what do you think he did?"
"I dare say he told you plainly that you were behaving badly?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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