"You will save me, Benet, won't you? You will be my good friend?"
"Ay," says I as softly as she (if that might be). "With God's help, no harm shall befall you."
On this she presses my hand a little closer, and then goes again to the door, from which she returns with almost a child's glee to tell me all is safe, and to ask by what miracle I came to her succor.
This joy in the midst of such trouble and peril, this kindness to me for whom she had shown little liking hitherto, but rather detestation for the most part, will seem unnatural, as being contrary to the proud, high spirit and independence of Lady Biddy, and so would it have been at any other time; but there is none—be he a man and never so strong—but grief and terrible anxiety will reduce to the unresisting soft temper of a child; so I do think and thus explain this truth. And, indeed, she gave present proof of weakness, for while the smile was yet on her lips, she clasps her hand to her heart and sinks down, sitting on the bed as if she could no longer hold her footing.
Seeing she was faint, I went with all speed and reckless into the next chamber for that refreshment Rodrigues said was set there for her use—than which no madder thing fool ever did, for there were windows opposite the gallery looking on to the deck, and had one been prying there I must have been seen, for all the two curtains were drawn, there being space enough for one to peep through from the outside if he were so minded. But—thanks be to God!—there was no one spying, and so I got the tray of refreshments from the table where it lay and carried it into the next cabin with no mischance.
This tray I set on the bed beside Lady Biddy, and she ate and drank with appetite, poor soul, for all the time they had been shut up in the roundhouse—she, with her uncle, and the poor remnant of his company—not one had broken fast, for there was neither bit nor sup to be got. Which also is a reason for that behavior of Lady Biddy's to which I have spoken as seeming unnatural.
While she satisfied her own cravings she made me eat likewise, whereto I was nowise loth myself, having eaten nothing for many hours but a few paltry raisins.
As she sat on the bed, I knelt on the ground by her feet for my better convenience in eating and also conversing in that low tone to which we were constrained. So as we ate I told her how I had come aboard and hidden myself, with other matters which there is no necessity to repeat; and this I did with reasonable calm, but the abounding joy and gladness of my heart to be there alone with that dear lady, kneeling at her very feet, listening to her whisper, feasting my eyes when hers were on the refreshment and I dared to do so unseen, no pen can describe, as I doubt also no imagination can conceive.
After she had eaten and drunk and would no more, being much refreshed and invigorated, I was for taking the tray back; but here her quick wit appearing where my dullness showed, she pointed out the danger, and taking the tray, carried it herself into the next chamber.
Coming back she seated herself on a settle that ran along one side of the cabin and bidding me sit beside her, asked how I meant to contrive her escape, which indeed would have been a poser for me at another time, but did now to my excited imagination appear the easiest thing in the world. For when one's spirits are filled with joy there seems nothing insurmountable, as, on the other hand, in grief we can see no way out of our trouble.