“_Open the Gates as wide as the sky,_
_And let the King come riding by._”
I CAME to myself, and opened my eyes, wondering what the great
trompling was, and thinging it was Bendigo got loose. Then I remembered
that Sexton had taken Bendigo away, so I looked to see what it might be,
for all the waggon horses had been taken back to Plash Farm for the day.
I looked up, and straightway I thought I must have died, and be now in
Paradise.
There, looking down upon me from his nag, with a dwelling gaze so
blazing with life that, if I hadna been sure the other way, I should
have thought he loved me, was none other than Kester Woodseaves.
Older-seeming he was, a little, and his face even cleaner cut than
afore, as if the soul had been busy chiselling at it. As for his eyes,
all the light of heaven was in them, not to speak of a very pleasant
touch of the old Adam. They took me in from head to foot, and I was at
rest. Ah! tied to the ducking-stool, in such sad case as no
self-respecting woman could choose to be seen in by any man, let alone
the man she loved, I was yet at rest. I cared for nothing now. I
werrited about nothing. Kester was here. Kester had gotten things in
hand. What could ail me? Such was my faith, that though three hundred
people, more or less, were set against me, and only Kester for me, yet I
knew that I was safe. I could have turned on my side and gone to sleep
on that old ducking-stool as if it was a feather bed, so comfortable I
was in my mind.
“Well,” says he at last, “well, Prue, my dear, you be in poor case!”
And he gave a little smile, as much as to say, “But not for long!”
“I be,” I answered, and my voice was all of a tremble with joy, “in very
poor case, Kester Woodseaves.”
He gave a look round, and then beckoned to Felena. She darted forrard,
as if she was his slave.
“Untie those, ’oot?” he said, pointing to the cords.