"Oh, Will, don't anger her!" said Anne, who had come in and stood trembling at the scene. "Don't anger her. There's no knowing what she may do. What if she should curse you?"
"Let her," returned Will. "I will tell you, girl, a good saying I learned long ago from the Moors at Tangier; 'Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost.' I am a Christian man I trow, and shall I have less courage than a heathen Moor? Come, mistress; troop, I say!"
"Well, I do say it is a fine thing to travel abroad," said Anne, looking at Will as he followed the woman along the terrace. "Just hear how she is cursing him! I wouldn't be in his place for something."
"She is gone, my lady," said Will, presently reappearing at the bow-window. "I promise you she gave it to me finely. Such a foul mouth I never heard, even among the gipsies. But don't you fear her. I don't believe the good Lord is going to bring evil on this honourable house for any curses of hers. So don'tee cry any more, my dear young lady, don'tee now," continued the good old man, as Lucy's tears still fell fast upon the head of old Goodman, which he had laid on her knee; "but be a brave maid and all will be well. Goodman and old Will Mattison will take good care of you till Mrs. Corbet returns. And in good time here she comes," he added, looking towards the avenue. "I wonder what has brought her home so early in the day? Anyhow, I am glad to see her, and I must go and hold her horse. So wipe up your tears, there's a brave maid, and go to meet your cousin."
[CHAPTER VI.]
"WHAT! Tears upon your cheeks, my Lucy," said Mrs. Corbet, as she dismounted from her horse and bent to kiss Lucy. "Nay, my child, that is but a sorry welcome."
"My lady has just been frightened by a gipsy-woman, and no shame to her," said Will Mattison. "She came to the window as bold as brass, when my lady was alone all but old Goodman, and a fearsome bold hag she was; but I sent her to the right about, I promise you. You have come earlier than I expected, madam."
"Yes; I had the offer of good company in the Vicar of Clevelay, who was riding this way, and I thought best to accept it. And so you had a fright, my love? I am sorry for that; but put it out of your mind now. No harm shall happen to you. Good old dog,—brave Goodman! Have you been taking care of Lucy?"
"Indeed he has, cousin! He has slept at my door every night since you went away, and he will not leave me a moment."
"Were you frightened at the thunder, Lucy?"