“You seem to be mightily consarned, miss. Maybe you knowed the condemned.”
“I know him well,” replied Bess, in her clear, penetrating voice.
“Is it true,” asked the man, emboldened by her reply, “that he is of a high family?”
“As true as the Gospels,” replied Bess. “It takes men born and bred like Mr. Richard Egremont to come back here to England, when he thinks it is his duty, although the gallows beckons to him. Common people like you and me a’n’t equal to it.”
At this a laugh went around, much to poor Bess’s discomfiture, who looked about with sad and anxious eyes, wondering what she had said to provoke a laugh.
The man, a respectable-looking tradesman, nettled by her words, replied tartly:—
“Look a-here, mistress. If you are so monstrous fond of this here traitor and Jesuit as is about to get his deserts, maybe you are in the same boat with him; maybe you’d be better off in prison than free!”
“If you think I can be frightened you don’t know me,” replied Bess, still composed. “I am not afraid to say that I am a friend to Mr. Richard Egremont; as true a gentleman and as loyal an Englishman as ever stepped; only, they won’t let him practise his religion here. And there’s a plenty of people here as feels sorry for him, and knows he a’n’t deserving of his fate. But you are all cowards, and afraid you’ll be taken up if you speak your minds, and so you keep as still as mice. But I am not afraid.”
At that Diggory said to Bess, in a low voice,—
“For God’s sake, Bess, hold thy tongue, or we may both find ourselves in gaol!”