Sir Turnour, a seasoned campaigner, was in an
instant on hisfeet.
The womanknows you and may think the better of us
on your account. He had had a lucky escape, for he had no desireas yet to come under
Winfortunes eye.
MrSpencer Perceval is hasting here to his nieces
summons, and willarrive some time the morn.
But a second glance dispelled
theimpression.
She was addressing her staff,and her tone was
unwontedly gentle.
There was no mistaking the long lean body and
thehorsemans stoop. Hell comefrom London, and so theres but the two roads to
watch.
Well, your travelling is done for a bit,my bonny
lad. For, though the wind had not movedfrom the northwest, it had threatened to die
away altogether.
It has not been lived in for a twelvemonth. He
found himself in a passage as dark as the inside of a nut.
What hindersyou the morn to raise the countryside
and make a tolbooth of theinn? The fear went out of her eyes, and her cry was of
relief.
More, there was thesound of a key turning. Overy
House is a mile off, and Overys our mark. But we do not know where he is comingfrom.
Belses, get that stuff out of those cursed drawers.
Well see about that, said Miss Georgie
fiercely.
Do you tell me that Sir Turnour takes your view of
Cranmers wife?
You can have no purposein coming to me with a
fairy-tale. Sir Turnour rose grumblingly to follow and so did Mr Dott, rubbingsleep
from his eyes.
Theres got tobe a fight at Overy, or on the road,
or at the Merry Mouth, or thekail-pots coupit. And what does a St Andrews professor
in the Fens, Mr Lammas? Andhere is a letter from Mr Perceval dated a week ago,
making anassignation for to-morrow night.
Wood Rising, curse it, istwenty miles off, so I
cannot get my own.
Andhere is a letter from Mr Perceval dated a week
ago, making anassignation for to-morrow night.
Now he knew a different kind of fear, not of the
manbefore him, but of his own failure. You can have no purposein coming to me with a
fairy-tale. Were chasingCranmer and dare not lose a moment. But youre a man of the
long gown and not of the sword.
This isa law-abiding country, and none of your
Muscovies. Somewhere on the west side the old woman must have herlair, and she might
well be asleep.
He remembered that he had been struck by her
beauty,though not by her manners.
He was slightly ashamed, though hedid not realise
it, of his speech in the boudoir.
His dislike ofCranmer seemed to make it imperative
to include the lady in hisdisfavour.