“He is by three years elder than I, Rachel.”
“Ne’er mind thou.”
“Methinks he should make the maid a good husband?” remarked Sir Thomas interrogatively.
“Better than she shall make him a wife,” said Rachel grimly.
“Rachel!”
“Brother, I have ne’er said this to thee aforetime; but my true conviction is that Lucrece is a mischief-maker, and until she be hence, there is like to be little peace for any. I saw not all things at the first; but I can tell thee now that she hath won Arthur Tremayne into her toils, and methinks she tried hard to compass Don Juan. If she will wed with Sir Piers (and he dare venture on her!) let it be so: he is old enough to have a care of himself; and she is less like to wreck his life than she should be with a younger man. In good sooth, there is all the less of it to wreck.”
“Yet, Rachel, if the maid be entangled with Arthur—”
“Make thy mind easy, Tom. ’Tis Arthur is entangled, not she. Trust her for that! She hath good enough scissors for the cutting of a like knot.”
“Arthur ne’er spake word to me,” said Sir Thomas, with a perplexed, meditative air.
“That is it which I would know, Tom. Ne’er spake word, quotha? So much the better. Well! I reckon thou shalt be like to tell Orige; but leave her not persuade thee to the contrary course. Yet I think she is scarce like. A knighthood and Feversham Hall shall go down very sweetly with her.”