'Already?' said Marion dully.
Mistress Keziah said nothing. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done.
Marion sat on the arm of her aunt's chair, and laid her golden head beside the grey one. 'May we not wait for dinner till Zacchary returns? I could not eat anything. I was hungry before, but not now.'
All the life had gone out of her voice. The reaction Mistress Keziah had dreaded was upon her. Marion had found it comparatively easy to pass the morning, her thoughts and activities engaged in the immediate moment. Now she found herself once more faced by the ordeal of waiting in suspense.
Mistress Keziah roused herself. 'You must eat, and eat well. Otherwise your nerves will weaken. Come along! A battle lies ahead. This is but a game. You played it well enough last night.'
Presently aunt and niece faced each other across the board, and Marion struggled to recover something of her everyday speech from that deep place of silence into which all her faculties had seemed to fall. Mistress Keziah played her own part well. When Marion, suddenly finding words drying on her lips, ceased to speak, Mistress Keziah took up some tale or anecdote. William, watching his two ladies, was unaware of anything amiss. Mistress Marion was quiet, certainly, but that was the way of maids, all bubble and froth one day, a dark pool the next. Dish after dish came on the table, and Mistress Keziah failed not to pile her niece's plate.
Slowly the meal wore itself out. A casual question from Mistress Keziah concerning the stables elicited from the unsuspecting William the news that Zacchary was still abroad in the town.
As Marion followed her aunt upstairs, half-past one chimed from the church near by. Marion went to her own room. Simone, according to her habit, had eaten her dinner upstairs, and was waiting for her mistress. Marion stood still in the middle of the room, her hands pressing back the hair from her forehead.
'Is it possible,' she said, 'possible, that in all Exeter there is no such thing as a bow and arrow?'
Simone felt tongue-tied. 'Surely not, Mademoiselle,' was all she could find to say.