“Nay, ’twas not thought seemly by my aunt,” replied Alice; “I was reared as strict as any Calvinist.”
“And yet live with a sinner,” said Lady Clancarty with a smile. “I would inquire my fate, if there be any fortune-teller or sooth-sayer near. I grow more curious every day, Alice, to know what the end may be.”
“Ignorance is ofttimes best, my lady,” quietly replied her attendant.
“It may be,” Lady Clancarty said; “but sooth, Alice, ’tis very trying. I would fain know—I would fathom that dark cloud that hangs upon my destiny.”
“Dear Lady Betty,” Alice said, “is there indeed a dark cloud upon it? It seems to my humble vision fair as summer sunshine, and high and noble.”
The mistress sighed. “Ah, simple maid,” she said, “look not enviously upon high estate. Light hearted I was born, gay and full of recklessness, I believe, but happy—ah, Alice, once I was! But now, my mind keeps turning ever to the thought of one less happy; I have a home and he—he has none; I have friends—belike, he is friendless. I have money, a dower cut from his estates in Munster; he is a beggar! O Alice, it grieves me; I would fain help him; I would fain give him back my dower; I would—oh, do you not see what I must seem to him? Heartless, cold, without sense of my duty, a robber and an enemy? I who am true, I who have only too kind a heart, I who would give my all to help him—what is the song?
‘Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,
To heal your many ills!’
Alice, I must know how my husband fares, I—mercy on us, girl, what ails you?” she cried, for Alice had given a scream of alarm, starting back from the coppice near at hand.
“There’s some one there!” cried the handmaid, in agitation, “I saw a man’s boot and spur yonder.”