“I have seen Mistress Judith for a moment only,” answered the lad. “She is well enough, but she is worn out with the care of her cousin, Lady Barbara, and she is sadly dispirited, too.”
“’Tis a pity Lady Barbara cannot die,” muttered Lindley, “after the confusion she’s gotten Lord Farquhart into. A sorry mess she’s made of things.”
“The poor girl——” Johan shuddered. “Mistress Judith says the poor girl is in desperate straits, does naught but cry and sob, and vows she loves Lord Farquhart better than her life.”
“Ay, she may well be in desperate straits,” shrugged Lindley. “And she’ll be in worse ones when she finds she’s played a goodly part in hanging an innocent man!”
“Hanging!” Johan’s exclamation was little more than a shrill, sharp cry.
“Ay, hanging, I said,” answered Lindley. “What other fate does she think is in store for Lord Farquhart?”
“But—but this Lord Farquhart is a friend of yours, too, is he not, Master Lindley?” The boy’s question was slow and came after a long silence.
“Yes, a good friend and an honest man, if ever there was one,” answered Lindley.
“An—an honest man!” Johan shuddered again. “That’s it, an honest man he is, isn’t he?”
“As honest as you or I!” Lindley’s thoughts were so preoccupied that he hardly noticed his companion’s agitation.