IN THE MALT-YARD.
The postern was still on the latch when Ruth reached it. Alas! she
had anticipated no less. That it was locked, was no longer one of
her fears. She would have sooner her father had detected her
midnight flitting now, and come upon her face to face. Anything
sooner than that he should have been one of that terribly strange
company. All, however, was still around and within. Not even the
watch-dog uttered a sound, for he knew her step, and fawned at her
feet as she passed; and safe and unseen by other eye than his she
reached the end of the corridor, casting a glance as she stole across
the floor at Maudlin, who to all appearance had not stirred.
Safe at last in the shelter of her own room, Ruth sank breathless and
spent into a chair and, overcome by the fatigue and excitement of the
long day's pleasures and pains, she fell into what must have been a
sort of long fainting unconsciousness, or else it was real honest
sleep that stole upon her unawares.
All she ever knew of it was, that when she opened her eyes again the
sunbeams were flooding her room, and the gatehouse clock chiming.
Six it must have been, since outside in the malting-yard she could
hear the stir and voices of the men getting to their work. Pressing
her chilled fingers upon her aching eyelids, she gazed round,
striving to collect her dazed senses; and the events of the past
night, as they came back to her mind, seemed like some bad dream.
She sat up and threw back the heavy cloak still covering her
shoulders with an impatient hand, as if she would have thrust the
ugly fancies away with it; but a sudden clash and clatter at her feet
recalled her thoroughly to herself, and she started up in dismay.
[Sidenote: Ruth's waking resolutions.]
It was caused by the falling of the steel blade which her sudden
movement had displaced from the folds of her cloak; there, glittering
dazzlingly bright in the sunshine, it lay upon the floor.
Spell-bound, Ruth gazed at it, much in the way that people are
forced, in spite of themselves, to stare at some poisonous
brilliant-eyed reptile crossing their path. Yet this was not
altogether Ruth's case. If anyone could have looked into her face
then they would have seen in it no vacant, helpless stare, but a
dawning, deep thoughtfulness, whose perplexity yielded gradually to
an expression of strong determination, as though she had come to a
decision on some knotty point she had been discussing with herself.
Only the clock, however, striking seven roused her from her
abstraction. So late! and approaching the window she opened its
panes and let in the pure morning air. Then she proceeded to make a
fresh toilette. With a little sigh yesterday's gay tiffany was laid
aside, poor, crumpled, bedraggled stuff that it all looked now, and
she put on a gown of gray camlet, from beneath whose skirts, just
reaching to her ankles, peeped forth a pair of little feet, in a pair
of stout plain black leathern tagged shoes; just the very things for
rough country roads and boggy lanes. The neat-fitting bodice was
finished by a kerchief of spotless lawn gathered close about her
neck, and though fashionable ladies would no doubt have vowed it an
odiously grand-mothery sort of thing, it was none so unbecoming.
Indeed as Ruth proceeded to fasten that black silk caped hood beneath
her little round chin, it was quite a matter of nice taste, whether
Queen Ruth, rosy as her regal robes and crown, and bright as her gay
dancing glances could make her, or this demure, pale little Ruth,
clad in sober gray, and with great wistful eyes, somewhat heavily
shadowed, indeed, with purple lines, were the prettier.
[Sidenote: A morning visit.]
Small doubt of Master Rumbold's opinion on the matter did there seem
to be, when ready equipped, even to a large basket upon her arm, she
stood before him with the black jack of ale, that always made his
breakfast. "Now thou look'st thyself, Ruth," he said, his brooding
brow lightening as he gazed at her. "Why dost thou sigh, child?" he
went on, taking the jack and putting it to his lips.
"Did I sigh, father?" and all unconsciously poor Ruth sighed again,
for never in her life had it seemed to her that she had felt less
herself.
"Ay, didst thou. Well, well. Thou'rt thy father's own daughter now:
kiss me then," he went on, setting down the empty jack and wiping his
lips. "And where art thou bound for so early?" he added.
"Nether Hall, father."
"Nether Hall! why, 'tis but a round o' the clock that thou wert
there," he said, opening his one eye more in surprise than
displeasure.
"Madam Lee," began Ruth rather hesitatingly, and blushing, though she
scarcely knew why, for it was but pure and simple truth she was
speaking, "Madam Lee promised me a sitting of the white bantam hen's
eggs yesterday, if--if," and she glanced down at her basket, "I liked
to go and fetch them."
"And are the white bantam's eggs as big as the giant bird's in the
fairy tale, that you must be taking a basket for them half as big as
yourself?"
"Nay, father. But Madam Lee promised me also some choice green
goose--goose--"
[Sidenote: The maltster in better humour.]
"'Tis Madam Lee is the goose to be spoiling thee so," smiled Rumbold
good-humouredly. "She always is promising thee some fine thing or
another. Well, well, go thy ways then, Ruth, for the green
gooseberries, and a pleasant walk, and if by hap thou shouldst chance
across Lawrence Lee,--and 'tis possible that, eh?"
"Yes, father."
[Sidenote: A proposed message.]
"Tell him to--but yet,--no. Tell him naught; 'twill keep. I shall
be seeing him shortly." And then Rumbold turned in at a door of the
corn chambers.