"'Western wind, when will you blow?
So weary falls the rain!
Oh, if my love were in my arms,
Or I in my bed again!'"
And here she turned away from them and fell a-crying, and hid from them, as it were, covering her face with both her hands.
"Grandmother, grandmother," they could hear her say through her sobbing, "there was but the one rose in my garden, and that is gone now—they have robbed me of that—and what cared I for aught else? And Quiney is gone too, without a word or a look—without a word or a look—and ere he be come back—well, I shall be away by then—he will have no need to quarrel with me and think ill of me that I chanced to meet the parson. 'Tis all over now, grandmother, and done with, and you will let me bide with you for just a little while longer—a little while, grandmother; 'tis no great matter for so little a while, though I cannot help you as I would—but Cicely is a good lass—and 'twill be for a little while—for last night again I found Hamnet—ay, ay, he hath all things in readiness now—all in readiness——" And then she uttered a slight cry, or moan rather. "Grandmother, grandmother, why do you not keep the parson away from me? You said that you would!"
"Hush, hush, child," the grandmother said, bending over her and speaking softly and closely. "You are over-concerned about the poor lass that was treated so ill. Take heart now; I tell thee all is going well with her; her father hath taken her home again, and she is as happy as the day is long. Nay, I swear to thee, good wench, if thou lie still and restful, I will take thee to see her some of these days. Hush thee now, dearie; 'tis going right well with the lass now."
The doctor touched the arm of Judith's father, and they both withdrew.
"She knew you not," said he; "and the fewer people around her the better—they set her fancies wandering."
They went down-stairs to where Quiney was awaiting them, and the sombre look on their faces told its tale.
"She is in danger!" he said, quickly.
The doctor was busy with his own thoughts, but he glanced at the young man and saw the burning anxiety of his eyes.
"The fever must run its course," said he, "and Judith hath had a brave constitution these many years that I fear not will make a good fight. 'Twas a sore pity that she was so distressed and stricken down in spirits, as I hear, ere the fever seized her."