Brent entered at a door so low that he was compelled to bow his tall head.
"The news of most interest to you," he said, seating himself by the fire, "comes not from Kent Fort, but from St. Gabriel's Manor, which I left just before the expected arrival of that aforesaid good-for-nothing brother of yours, who is in treaty with me for the manor at Cecil Point, which Baltimore christened Robin Hood's Barn when he made a grant of it to Mistress Elinor Calvert. The lady is staying with my sister Mary at present."
"You have just come from St. Gabriel's?" queried Peggy, "and just seen Mistress Calvert? Then pray tell me all about her. She is very, very handsome, they say—"
"Then for once they say truth. I have seen her enter the gallery at The Globe when all the gallants on the stage rose to catch sight of her, and I have seen the London street-sweepers follow her for a mile. There's beauty for you!"
"And she is very wise too?"
"Ay, as good a head for affairs as mine, and I think no small things of mine own abilities."
"And she is virtuous and tender and true?"
"The tenderest of mothers, and the loyalest of kinswomen."
Peggy cast down her long-fringed eyes and studied the pointed toes of her red slippers. At length looking up timidly she asked,—
"Think you I could ever be like her?"