“Marry, sweet Mistress, the child is hungered and aweary. Pray you, forgive her this once!”
“Good lack!” plaintively exclaimed Lady Enville. “I hate discords around me. Call Jennet, and bid her take Barbara into the hall, for it must be nigh rear-supper.”
Go and sit down comfortably to supper, with her darling shut in a dark closet! Barbara would as soon have thought of flying.
“Leave her come forth, Rachel,” said the child’s mother.
“I love peace as well as thou, Sister; but I love right better,” answered Rachel unmovedly. But she rose and went to the closet. “Child! art thou yet penitent?”
“Am I what?” demanded Clare from within, in a voice which was not promising for much penitence.
“Art thou sorry for thy fault?”
“No.”
“Wilt thou ask pardon?”
“No,” said Clare sturdily.