My Lady Elizabeth Carlyon, seated upon a rickety chair among a pile of other lumber high under the eaves, kicked her pretty heels for very triumph as she watched the tatterdemalion eat and drink the dainty meal she had just set before him.
"O Charles—'tis all so vastly romantic!" she exclaimed.
My Lord of Medhurst, chancing to have his mouth rather full, spluttered and lifted handsome head indignantly; thus the likeness to his twin sister was manifest, the same delicate profile and regularity of features, bright, fearless eyes and firm set of mouth and chin, the same proud and lofty carriage of the head.
"Romantic be damned, Bet—saving your presence!" said he, "I've led a very dog's life——"
"My poor, poor boy!" she sighed, touching his thin cheek with gentle, loving fingers which he immediately kissed; thereafter he fell to upon the viands before him with renewed appetite and gusto.
"Egad, Bet," he mumbled, "this is better than a diet of raw turnips and blackberries or eggs sucked warm from the nest——"
"O Charles, hath it been so bad as that?"
"Aye—and worse! Lord, Bet—lass, I've begged and thieved my way hither from the Border. Heaven only knows how oft I've sat i' the stocks for a ravished hen, been kicked and cuffed and stoned out o' villages for a vagrant, consorted with rogues of all kinds, hidden in barns, slept in hayricks and hedges, been abused by man, and stormed at and buffeted by the elements and, on the whole—am the better for it. Nay, sweet lass, no tears!"
Down went knife and fork with a clatter and his ragged sleeve was about her. "No tears, Bet," said he consolingly, "damme, I'll not endure 'em!"
"But O my dear, to think what you have suffered and I—so careless, while you, Charles, you——"