“But they’re taking ’em—Willie and Jerry,” Jessie murmured, dazed. “Like enow ye wouldn’t know Willie’s name—it were him cut them pieces for ye.... Oh, man!” she cried suddenly, “he’s my lover—chance ye’re wed yoursel’——”
“Oh, think, wi’ your talk o’ two hundred year—happen lovers cut them marks, same as ye’ve cut a lass’s name on a tree!”
“Them that I heard tell of was King’s marks,” the bailiff mused, “but ay, happen this would be some lad——”
Jessie dropped face foremost on the table, and the fisherwoman spoke sharply.
“Come out o’ your moon-trances, Matthew Hudson!” she cried; “think what can be done. They’ll up anchor in a couple of hours wi’ th’ turn o’ th’ tide.—Wad th’ Warden stop ’em?”
Jessie moaned softly on the table, and the bailiff deliberated.
“Ay—no—there’s no knowing; the Warden might.”
“Then put th’ horse i’ the trap, ye daft fool, and tak’ us ower!” the woman cried, losing her temper.
And as the bailiff set his pieces of wood aside with a sigh, he murmured, “Me wed? No——”