Amy looked about her carefully, then leaning a little forward opened her mouth as though to speak, but as though another thought had crossed her mind she drew back and, shaking her head, said piously, “But who am I to take away a poor slut’s character? ’Tis not my nature, and I pray you, Master Blueneck, that you will not urge me, for my very conscience revolts against it.” She paused. “Though, mind you, I could an I would,” she went on, “but then, as I said, the story will do the lass no good.”
“You make me curious, señora,” said the sailor in his best manner.
But Mistress Pullen for a very good reason, namely, that she could not think of a convincing story on the spot, was not to be prevailed on, and the conversation flagged for a time. At last she broke the silence.
“Then the Captain of the Coldlight is much attracted by this—this, this wench?” she asked.
“Attracted!” Blueneck looked up excitedly. “I tell you, mistress, I never saw him so before—of course, you will understand, señora, there have been other women—how could there not be? But never has it been so that he has lost his delight in the trade. No,” he added, “it has not been like this these last ten years, and before then he was but a lad. Without doubt the maid has bewitched him.”
Mistress Pullen began to be interested.
“Have there been very many other women who loved the gallant Captain?” she said, her respect for the Spaniard growing at every word.
Blueneck threw up his hands.
“So many, mistress, I could not name them all.”
Mistress Amy thrilled with interest, but her face fell at her next thought.