Lady Biddy gave him no reply, but as soon as he had closed the second door after him—turning the key in the outside, she ran to the bed, and casting herself upon it, gave vent to her feeling in an agony of tears.
And to hear her sobbing above me, yet striving to smother the sound, lest Rodrigues should know that her pride had broken down, would have touched any stony heart. It was so pitiful to my ear that the tears coursed down my own cheeks as I listened.
Thus she sobbed in a great tumult for some while, and then her passion softening into mere maiden's sorrow, she murmured in a low tone, still smothering her sweet voice in the pillow lest it should be heard, and yet not able to keep quite silent either—"Oh, my heart! Oh, my poor heart!" and this she said over and over again—"Oh, my poor heart! Oh, my heart!" with mournful tremor, unable to find other words to express the commotion of her feelings.
Now would I have given anything to be of comfort to her, yet I dared not come forth from where I lay, lest my sudden appearance should move her to cry out with terror ere she discerned who I was, which would have brought Rodrigues back in a twinkling, and ruined all. So I waited patiently awhile, and when she ceased to make moan, and only sobbed at intervals, like a child exhausted with weeping, I began to gently scratch the tick of the bed with my finger-nail, making no more noise than might a mouse nibbling.
Of this she at first took no notice, but anon I observed she smothered a sob, as if to listen with greater attention, and then by the movement above I noticed she had started up as if resting on her elbow; as I still continued the scratching, she presently made a movement of the clothes, as if to frighten the thing away, for the bravest of women do greatly fear a mouse; upon which, ceasing to scrape the tick, I said quickly, in a very low whisper—
"Do not cry out, a friend is here—I, Benet Pengilly!"
Then whipped she off the bed, yet making no sound, and I, putting my hands and feet as I have aforesaid against the wall, pushed myself out from my cramped hiding-place, and got upon my feet before her, raising my finger and casting my eyes about for fear of discovery.
I must have been very villainous and horrid to look upon, my hair untrimmed and hanging about my face in dank wisps clotted with blood from my wound, my clothes in a like pickle, and no cleaner in my flesh than the sea had washed me the day before; but such horrors had she seen that her senses were, as it were, the accustomed to such dreadful images, and she saw me no worse than others, but rather better, for being there a friend where she thought was none but enemies.
Catching the meaning of my gesture, she went quickly to the panel door and spied into the next cabin, whence she came back light of foot, nodding to assure me all was safe. Then she gave me her hand, and I taking no heed whether mine was reasonably clean or proper to hold so dainty, delicate a thing, took it; and to feel those soft, cool fingers clinging tightly to my rough palm, did seem to contract every muscle of my back with physical delight. Also was my heart quickly moved with joy to perceive in her dear eyes—though they were swollen and red with weeping—a bright beam of hope and satisfaction, whilst the corners of her lips curved with a little smile.
Coming quite close to me, she whispered eagerly in my ear—