Prudence glanced at her again, somewhat uneasily, and obviously in great embarrassment.
"You will not take it ill, dear Judith?"
"By my life, I will not! Not from you, dear heart, whatever it be. But what is the dreadful secret?"
"Tom Quiney has spoken to me," she said, diffidently.
Judith eagerly caught both her hands.
"And you! What said you? 'Tis all settled, then!" she exclaimed, almost breathlessly.
"It is as I imagined, Judith," said Prudence, calmly—and she withdrew her hands, with a touch of maidenly pride, perhaps, from what she could not but imagine to be a kind of felicitation. "He hath no fault to find with the country. If he goes away to those lands beyond seas, 'tis merely because you will say no word to hold him back."
"I!" said Judith, impatiently; and then she checked herself. "But you, sweetheart, what said he to you?"
Prudence's cheeks flushed red.
"He would have me intercede for him," she said, timidly.