“I am glad to hear it,” said the founder. “You have been here too long, and I don’t know, even now, that it is all over with Gil Carr. I’m not going to break my child’s heart, and—hey-day, tit, child, what’s wrong?” he cried, as, with a face white as ashes, and her eyes dilate with horror, Mace ran quickly into the room followed by Janet.
“Gil! father,” she cried, hoarsely; and then, with a shudder, her eyes closed and her head sank upon his breast.
“Why, child, what now? Has he dared? Speak, wench,” he cried, stamping his foot, as he turned upon the trembling serving-maid, “what is it?”
“Captain Culverin, master,” she whispered, trembling—“Mas’ Wat Kilby.”
“What of them, fool?” cried the founder, excitedly.
“Drowned, master—in the Pool, and they’re bringing their bodies now ashore!”
How Wat Kilby led the Way.
In his excitement the founder hastily laid Mace on the couch and rushed out, when Sir Mark was about to run to the poor girl’s side, to seize his opportunity, and press his lips to hers, but he was forestalled by Janet, who, with flashing eyes, leaped between them to cry spitefully, “Nay; and if thou must kiss aught, kiss me. Thou can’st not want to kiss two maidens in one day.”
With an angry ejaculation Sir Mark turned aside and followed the founder, who was running along the side of the Pool to where a group of his people were busy round a boat just drawn up close to the edge, with Father Brisdone and Master Peasegood in the midst, giving directions to the men who were lifting a couple of bodies towards a shed half-filled with soft dogwood charcoal.