“Poh!” said Nick, stoutly, for he saw the pasty coming in, “they can na beat us Englishmen!” and with that fell upon the pasty as if it were the Spanish Armada in one lump and he Sir Francis Drake set on to do the job alone.
As he ate his spirits rose again, and he almost forgot that he was stolen from his home, and grew eager to be seeing the wonders of the great town whose ceaseless roar came over the housetops like a distant storm. He was still somewhat in awe of this beautiful, flower-like little maid, and listened in shy silence to the wonderful tales she told: how that she had seen the Queen, who had red hair, and pearls like gooseberries on her cloak; and how the court went down to Greenwich. But the bandy-legged man kept popping his head in at the door, and, after all, Nick was but in a prison-house; so he grew quite dismal after a while.
“Dost truly think thy father will leave me go?” he asked.
“Of course he will,” said she. “I cannot see why thou dost hate him so?”
“Why, truly,” hesitated Nick, “perhaps it is not thy father that I hate, but only that he will na leave me go. And if he would but leave me go, perhaps I’d love him very much indeed.”
“Good, Nick! thou art a trump!” cried Master Carew’s voice suddenly from the further end of the hall, where in spite of all the candles it was dark; and, coming forward, the master-player held out his hands in a most genial way. “Come, lad, thy hand—’tis spoken like a gentleman. Nay, I will kiss thee—for I love thee, Nick, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour!” Taking the boy’s half-unwilling hands in his own, he stooped and kissed him upon the forehead.
“Father,” said Cicely, gravely, “hast thou forgotten me?”
“Nay, sweetheart, nay,” cried Carew, with a wonderful laugh that somehow warmed the cockles of Nick’s forlorn heart; and turning quickly, the master-player caught up the little maid and kissed her again and again, so tenderly that Nick was amazed to see how one so cruel could be so kind, and how so good a little maid could love so bad a man; for she twined her arms about his neck, and then lay back with her head upon his shoulder, purring like a kitten in his arms.
“Father,” said she, patting his cheek, “some one hath told him naughty things of thee. Come, daddy, say they are not so!”
The master-player’s face turned red as flame. He coughed and looked up among the roof-beams. “Why, of course they’re not,” said he, uneasily.