“Have they spoken then to one another?” asked Tibble, beginning to take alarm.
“I trow not. I deem they know not yet what draweth them together.”
“Pish, they are mere babes!” quoth Tib, hoping he might cast it off his mind.
“Look!” said Perronel; and as they stood on the somewhat elevated floor of the bay window, they could look over the heads of the other spectators to the seats where the young girls sat.
Aldonza’s beautiful and peculiar contour of head and face rose among the round chubby English faces like a jessamine among daisies, and at that moment she was undertaking, with an exquisite smile, the care of the gown that Giles laid at her feet, ere making his venture.
“There!” said Perronel. “Mark that look on her face! I never see it save for that same youngster. The children are simple and guileless thus far, it may be. I dare be sworn that she is, but they wot not where they will be led on.”
“You are right, dame; you know best, no doubt,” said Tib, in helpless perplexity. “I wot nothing of such gear. What would you do?”
“Have the maid wedded at once, ere any harm come of it,” returned Perronel promptly. “She will make a good wife—there will be no complaining of her tongue, and she is well instructed in all good housewifery.”
“To whom then would you give her?” asked Tibble.
“Ay, that’s the question. Comely and good she is, but she is outlandish, and I fear me ’twould take a handsome portion to get her dark skin and Moorish blood o’erlooked. Nor hath she aught, poor maid, save yonder gold and pearl earrings, and a cross of gold that she says her father bade her never part with.”