“Rest, is it, miss? Recovered, is it? Not very much of either! It is dead beat I am!”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping that you would feel well to-night and be inclined to tell me the story of the pretty maiden you promised.”
“Oh, ay, well, there is not so much to tell. And now the old creature as hung on so long is gone, I don’t mind telling it so much. The girl’s soul may have rest now that her mither doesn’t harry it up.”
“Yes, I hope it will,” said Wynnette, in a conciliating tone. “You will tell me the story now?”
“Yes! and whatever other story you may hear about it will be false, for I know that you will hear other stories, if you haven’t heard ’em already. There’s plenty of ’em going around, I tell you, and no two alike. But only I have the truth, for I have it straight from my mother, who had it from her’n! So it must be true! And no other story could be!”
“But I suppose if Old Zillah were alive she also could give the real facts,” ventured Wynnette.
“She? Least of all in this world could she tell it! For not only did she fail to tell the truth, but she told a many mad fancies; for she was about as mad as a March hare! Saw visions and talked with departed spirits, prophesied future events, and all that, she did! Yes, miss. She has been that a way ever since I knowed her, and as I have heard tell, was that a way ever since she lost her daughter.”
“Tell me about her daughter.”
“I’m a-gwine to. Well, you see, it seems the feyther had been undergardener, and he died, and then the widow was given the use of a little hut in the outside of the old castle wall, on the lane. And there she lived and brought up her only child, Phebe. They were both employed in the poultry yard.
“Phebe grew up beautiful as an angel—so beautiful that everybody who happened to meet her stopped to look at her—so beautiful, that her beauty turned her own head, as well as her mother’s. While she was yet a child all the gentry that met her gave her half crowns, and even half guineas, for the love of her fair face. At least so ’twas said, and so ’twas handed down. And people used to make such foolish speeches about her as that she was lovely enough to turn the head of a king.