Great Britain -- History -- Mary I, 1553-1558 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
But we were on the verge of one pleasure at least. When we reached the
hospitable kitchen of the farmhouse it was joy indeed to stand before
the great turf fire, and feel the heat stealing into our half-frozen
bodies; to turn and warm back and front, while the good wife set bread
and hot milk before us. How differently we three felt in half an hour!
How the Duchess's eyes shone once more! How easily rose the laugh to
our lips! Joy had indeed come with the morning. To be warm and dry and
well fed after being cold and wet and hungry--what a thing this is!
But on one neither food nor warmth seemed to have any effect. Mistress
Anne did, indeed, in obedience to my lady's sharp words, raise her
bowl to her lips. But she set it down quickly and sat looking in dull
apathy at the glowing peat. What had come over her?
Master Bertie went out with the farmer to attend to the horses, and
when he came back he had news.
"There is a lad here," he said in some excitement, "who has just seen
three foreigners ride past on the road, along with two Germans on
pack-horses; five in all. They must be three of the party who followed
us yesterday."
I whistled. "Then Clarence got himself out," I said, shrugging my
shoulders. "Well! well!"
"I expect that is so," Master Bertie answered, the Duchess remaining
silent. "The question arises again, what is to be done?" he continued.
"We may follow them to Wesel, but the good man says the floods are
deep between here and the town, and we shall have Clarence and his
party before us all the way--shall perhaps run straight into their
arms."
"But what else can we do?" I said. "It is impossible to go back."
We held a long conference, and by much questioning of our host learned
that half a league away was a ferry-boat, which could carry as many as
two horses over the river at a time. On the farther side we might hit
a road leading to Santon, three leagues distant. Should we go to
Santon after all? The farmer thought the roads on that side of the
river might not be flooded. We should then be in touch once more with
our Dutch friends and might profit by Master Lindstrom's advice, on
which I for one was now inclined to set a higher value.
"The river is bank full. Are you sure the ferry-boat can cross?" I
asked.
Our host was not certain. And thereupon an unexpected voice struck in.
"Oh, dear, do not let us run any more risks!" it said. It was Mistress
Anne's. She was herself again, trembling, excited, bright-eyed; as
different as possible from the Anne of a few minutes before. A great
change had come over her. Perhaps the warmth had done it.
A third course was suggested, to stay quietly where we were. The
farmhouse stood at some little distance from the road; and though it
was rough--it was very rough, consisting only of two rooms, in one of
which a cow was stalled--still it could furnish food and shelter. Why
not stay there?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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