“Father’s abed with the ague.”
“Now you cannot expect me to be sorry.”
“Nay,” she said; and I caught her looking at me with something like compassion in her blue eyes, which mov’d me to cry out suddenly—
“I think you are woman enough to like a pair of lovers.”
“Oh, aye: but where’s t’other half of the pair?”
“You’re right. The young gentlewoman that was brought hither with me—I know not if she loves me: but this I do know—I would give my hand to learn her whereabouts, and how she fares.”
“Better eat thy loaf,” put in the girl very suddenly, setting down the plate and pitcher.
’Twas odd, but I seem’d to hear a sob in her voice. However, her back was toward me as I glanc’d up. And next moment she was gone, locking the iron door behind her.
I turn’d from my breakfast with a sigh, having for the moment tasted the hope to hear something of Delia. But in a while, feeling hungry, I pick’d up the loaf beside me, and broke it in two.
To my amaze, out dropp’d something that jingled on the stone floor.