"Madame, I am the humblest of your servants!"
O'Flannigan performed the sword salute with the cane he held in his hand, and attempted to deposit a kiss upon the mitten of the Quakeress, who found herself quite disarmed in spite of herself by such a display of courtesy and high breeding.
"Come, come, Monsieur O'Flannigan," she breathed; "suppose you return to your music."
"At your command, madame.—Now, then, mademoiselle; one—two—three. We are in the key of sol!"
After the Irishman's departure, Esther passed the remainder of the morning in walking up and down the little garden, studying the charming rôle of Beatrice in "Much Ado about Nothing," which she was to play in a few days. Then came the dinner hour, which reunited Mrs. Marsham, her son Reuben, Esther, and the ancient Maud; since, in accordance with the usage of the sect, the servants consorted with their masters and sat at table with them. Moreover, Maud was no ordinary servant. She possessed the sense of second sight. At certain hours she prophesied and spoke in a strange tongue which no one understood. "The Spirit is upon her!" they were wont to say respectfully upon such occasions. Very deaf and purblind, even with her double vision Maud could not see the spiders' webs which festooned the ceiling; she could hear "voices," though not that of her mistress when it called her. Any one in the wide world except the Marshams would have quickly recognized the inconvenience of having a vaticinal cook.
At the dinner-table the dangers which Esther had encountered upon the preceding night became the topic of conversation. Mother and son regarded the event from their own standpoints. The former blessed Providence who had guided the girl through her peril safe and sound; the latter cursed the malice of the men who had madly risked their lives in breaking a minister's windows for the glorification of a stupid soldier. How many there were who would have permitted themselves to be killed for Rodney, who would not have raised a finger for Christ! Esther uttered not a word concerning Lord Mowbray; she simply spoke of the excellent gentleman who had escorted her home.
"The brave man!" said Mrs. Marsham. "I long to know and thank him."
"I saw him leaving, or rather flying, like a malefactor," muttered Reuben. "Would he not have remained to receive our thanks, if he had thought he deserved them?"
"Virtue is diffident, my son; her right hand knoweth not what her left hand doeth."
Reuben only replied by an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. The repast over, Maud returned to her kitchen, where she held forth all alone for several long hours. Mrs. Marsham installed herself in her rush-seated chair and adjusted a pair of silver-and-horn spectacles upon the tip of her nose, the rigid steel mounting of which suggested the curved arch of some ancient bridge. She selected one of her favorite books, the "Pilgrim's Progress," or the life of George Fox, which for thirty years had fascinated her timid, childish imagination. Soon the regular breathing, like the purring of a great drowsy cat, informed Esther that her aunt was in Morpheus's arms. Indeed, she had fallen asleep with an ecstatic smile upon her features. Perhaps she dreamed that she walked in a fair garden, attended by angels, and that one came to her, clothed in white raiment, with a lily in his right hand, and said to her, "Good morrow, my good Mrs. Marsham. How are you? My father will be rejoiced to see you." And then, stooping, he would gather stars from the parterre of heaven and arrange them in a bouquet for the elect; for Mrs. Marsham was frequently favored with such dreams, and upon awakening she would recount them to her friends as did the personages in the Old Testament. She was forever searching some explanation of them, since she considered them in the light of celestial visions.