But the servants were already flying in every direction in their efforts to minister to the evident needs of him whose position had undergone so sudden a transformation.
At the same time Nahma himself was even more bewildered by the good fortune that was overwhelming him than ever by the hard fate that had for so long been his constant attendant.
Somewhat later the lady who, with her companions, had withdrawn, came again to the hall, and stepping to where she could obtain a good view of the youth, looked at him steadily for the space of a minute. He, in the mean time, had been bathed and fed, his wounds had been dressed, and he wore a body-gown from the knight's own wardrobe that gave him an air of grace and dignity.
"He is no gypsy, Sir Amory," said the lady, finally, withdrawing her gaze and turning to her husband.
"I myself am beginning to doubt if he belongs to those nomads," replied the knight. "But if not a gypsy, to what race can he lay claim, with that tinge of color and with hair of such raven blackness?"
"Dost remember the tale told us in London by my cousin Edward concerning an arrival from the New World in whom he had taken an interest?"
"Ay, well do I, and it so aroused my curiosity that I made an errand shortly after to the place where he was said to be, but he had disappeared. How was he called? Can you remember the name?"
"He was called 'Massasoit,'" replied the lady, uttering the word distinctly and observing the youth as she spoke.