“Let her weep,” observed the physician. “’Tis all that hath kept her from becoming completely distraught.”
“I will send a woman to her,” said the lieutenant. “The girl, if so she be, and no boy would rave so, hath been too long alone. We are but rude nurses for such sorrow. Truly it grieves me that one so young should meet with so much of misery.”
And he left the apartment.
CHAPTER XXVI
A FELLOW PRISONER
A merciful illness prostrated Francis for many weeks, and when at length she crept slowly toward health, the winter had passed and spring was abroad in the land. Her convalescence was tedious, owing to a settled melancholy utterly unlike her usual buoyant disposition, which had taken possession of her. Upon one point only did a gleam of her native spirit flash forth. This was when Mrs. Shelton, the wife of one of the keepers, brought her the apparel suitable to her sex.
“Nay; vex me not with them, good mistress,” exclaimed Francis. “’Twas by my father’s command that I donned this attire, and, by my faith, I will exchange it for no other until he bids me.”
“That may be never, Mistress Stafford,” retorted the woman impatiently. “Thou mayst never see him again.”