“Don’t ye say that now, Deb; ’tis all for you!” he answered, thinking he was prevailing because she was less violent, too stupid to perceive the difference between her real indignation and perpetual scolding.
“So you still have the face to tell me so!” she burst out, still more vehemently. “I tell you, I’d rather serve my lady and Mistress Rose, if they had not a crust to give me, than roll in gold with a rogue like you. Get along with you, and best get out of the county, for not a boy in Dorset but will cry shame on you.”
“But Deb, Deb,” he still pleaded.
“You will have it, then!” And dealing him a hearty box on the ear, away ran Deborah. Down fell bag, money, and all, and Diggory stood gaping and astounded for a moment, then proceeded to grope after the coins on his hands and knees.
Suddenly a voice exclaimed, “How now, knave, stealing thy mistress’s goods?” and a tall, grim, steeple-hatted figure, armed with a formidable halberd, stood over him.
“Good master corporal,” he began, trembling; but the soldier would not hear him.
“Away with thee, son of iniquity or I will straightway lay mine halberd about thine ears. I bethink me that I saw thee at the fight of Worcester, on the part of the man Charles Stuart.” Here Diggory judged it prudent to slink away through the back door. “And so,” continued the Puritan corporal, as he swept the silver into his pouch, “and so the gains of iniquity fall into the hands of the righteous!”
In the meantime Edmund and Walter had been conducted up stairs to Walter’s bed-room, and there locked in, a sentinel standing outside the door. No sooner were they there than Walter swung himself round with a gesture of rage and despair. “The villains! the rogues! To be betrayed by such a wretch, who has eaten our bread all his life. O Edmund, Edmund!”
“It is a most unusual, as well as an unhappy chance,” returned Edmund. “Hitherto it has generally happened that servants have given remarkable proofs of fidelity. Of course this fellow can have no attachment for me; but I should have thought my mother’s gentle kindness must have won the love of all who came near her, both for herself and all belonging to her.”
A recollection crossed Walter: he stood for a few moments in silence, then suddenly exclaimed, “The surly rascal! I verily believe it was all spite at me, for—”