The Admiral's Daughter

by Margaret Stuart Lane

Simone started. 'Another twelve hours! Oh! what shall I do?'

The words slipped from her before she quite realised their import, and as she met Mistress Keziah's look of amazement she changed colour.

'Well,' said Mistress Keziah, 'and why should she not sleep?'

Simone held a swift parley with herself as she stood with downcast eyes before the old woman who was so like, yet so unlike, her sister. With Lady Fairfax, Simone would have known at once what course to take.

'I am waiting,' said Mistress Keziah.

Simone looked up at her, her dark lashes heavy with tears; her lips trembled.

'You are yourself scarcely fit to be out of bed,' said Mistress Keziah. 'Come into my chamber a minute. Alison will stay here.'

'But,' faltered Simone, 'if Mademoiselle should wake?'

'When Mademoiselle does wake, she will be herself again. And Alison is a comely maid. I understand 'tis from my own face you would protect her.'

A smile broke over the angular features, and to Simone's amazement, Mistress Keziah passed her arm round her shoulders, and drew her across the gallery. The comely Alison, sitting at the needlework table, was sent to Marion's chamber. With her own hands Mistress Keziah poured out a glass of cordial and tendered it to Simone. She took a seat in a high-backed chair by the window, and beckoned Simone to a stool at her side. The girl's fingers trembled as she held the glass.