Once again Etta was to go down into the great hall, where now only Sieur Simon was sitting, and she was to be tried in a far harder way even than by hunger. When the man called Nat Salt came to fetch her, Felipa seemed to guess that something was the matter, for she clung to her friend, crying out:
'Don't take Etta away. Catalina, Aunt Elena, don't let the wicked man take her. Why is she to go?'
'Prithee, young madam, don't take it to heart; this English girl is but wanted to answer a few questions.' But Etta, though pale, would not show any fear even while her heart sank within her.
'I will follow you an you touch me not,' she said, raising her fair head loftily.
'In truth I'll not touch thee, young one,' said Nat Salt, who had a curiously soft heart, considering what he had seen and done. 'Come then, it will not be ten minutes' work. But mind! don't go acting the dumb dog before that Frenchman; I'fecks, he's as hard as a millstone on man, woman, or child--Morgan's an angel to him.'
As they passed out the two soldiers guarding the door stared hard at the girl, who walked by Nat's side as if she were a princess.
'There's a bit of sunshine in the wench's hair,' said one of them, 'but it will go hard with her if she is to get into the hands of the dragon.'
Poor Etta! it was to go hard with her.
'Come, child, make haste and tell me what I ask, and then you can go back to your friends,' said Simon. 'Where did the Marquis hide his gold before Morgan landed? He must surely have been busy over that work.'
Etta lifted her pretty head, and gazed at the Frenchman with indignant blue eyes.