Lady Rosamond's book

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

We saw no more of my Lady. In obedience to Sir John's hint, my mother kept Joyce at her side the rest of the day, and she shared my bed at night. She seemed unable to believe in her own deliverance, and started at every sound.

"She came to my room last night and beat me—oh, so cruelly!" the poor thing whispered to me, after we were in bed, "and that was not so bad as her words. She said I was a witch, and had bewitched her son to his death, and that she would have me burned! Your good father wont let them burn me, will he, Mistress Rosamond? I would not so much mind dying, but it would be dreadful to be burned alive!"

I soothed her and told her she would be safe under my father and mother's care, and if she would be a good and obedient maid, she might be as happy as the day was long.

"I will try to be good!" she said, simply. "But I am so ignorant! I have had no learning. I hardly know anything. Mistress Earle taught me to work, and spin, and say my prayers, but I have forgot them all now. Father Joe, our chaplain, used to teach me a prayer now and then, when he was sober, and he was kind to me; but he died from drinking strong ale. And then Walter died. Walter was always good—and I had no friend save poor old Dorothy."

I told her we would teach her, and bade her try to sleep, that she might be ready to travel in the morning; and so with much ado got her quiet.

Early in the morning we left the hall, seeing none of the family save Dorothy and the steward.

"Now I can breathe again!" said my father, drawing a long breath, when we were once out on the open moors. Joyce was on a pillion behind Cousin Joslyn, holding on very tight, and every now and then looking round with a scared face, as though expecting pursuit. She grew easier the farther we went, and when we were quite out of sight of the house, she too drew a long breath, and seemed as if she were more at ease.

We rode all day, across all but pathless wastes, seeing hardly a living thing save a few forlorn sheep tended by a wild, wolfish-looking dog and a boy not less wild than he. Toward the middle of the afternoon, however, we came to a hamlet, where the cottages were more decent than any we had seen since leaving home; some of them having little gardens, with parsnips and onions, and a few pot-herbs, and now and then some hardy flowers. All the people came to the door at sight of our cavalcade, and there were many reverences and smiles from men and women. They were a large, sturdy, wild-looking race, with black curly hair and black eyes.

"Now we are on your lands, my dear cousin," said Cousin Joslyn, turning to me. "This is the village of Tremador, and these be your tenants and cottagers."

I confess I was so silly at first as to feel a sense of prideful elation at the thought that I was in some sort mistress of these people and owner of the lands whereon I stood: but my second thought, I trust, was a better one, and I inwardly breathed a prayer that in so far as I had special duties toward these good folks, I might have grace to fulfil them.