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Keep right behind yon thick tree, and await my return." She looked calmly at me, but even before she could glide off, there came from the ale-house an appalling volley of oaths and curses. It was a man's voice, yelling in agonized blasphemy, and a woman's shrill treble floated on the surface of the stream of virulence. I caught Mistress Waynflete's wrist and steadied her.
There was nothing to keep me now, and a few minutes later I quietly lifted Marry-me-quick's latch, stepped into the room, and observed at once that Mistress Waynflete's look imported news. "Now, little mother," said I to Mistress Tonks, "supper's the blessedest word I know." "And the rabbit-stew's as good as done by now," she said, and went into the back room to dish it up.
It was heavy and ungainly, but very comfortable, and as safe as the ark. Joe received the information that he was to row to Stafford as cheerfully as an invitation to a jug of beer, and went off whistling to get the boat ready. Everything that care could suggest was done for Mistress Waynflete's comfort. Jane carried down to the boat two huge stone beer bottles, filled with boiling water.
I had ever loved my mother dearly, but I loved her proudly now, for the greatest dame in the land could not have done better than this sweet, simple mother of mine. Without surprise or hesitation, she took Mistress Waynflete's hands in her own, and said, "Dear lady, anyone in distress is welcome here, and Oliver has done just as I would have him do.
The two runaways are scarcely likely to appear as witnesses, so, for Mistress Waynflete's sake, I must ask you, should an explanation become necessary, to conceal my share in the matter." "The manner of his death is fortunately quite obvious, and if it were not, any account I choose to give of it will pass unquestioned." "Then it will be easy for you, I hope, to forget me when giving it.
"Whatever for?" she repeated. "Could you learn of no reason?" "I was told," he answered slowly, "that Colonel Waynflete's knowledge and assistance would be invaluable to the royal troops." "Told that my father had turned traitor! Is that what you mean, sir?" Scorn too great for anger covered her face, veiling its sweetness as with a fiery cloud.
Colonel Waynflete's connexion with the Jacobite cause had, naturally, been kept secret, but she was almost certain that Lord Brocton had discovered it through a certain spy and toady of his, one Major Tixall. "Pimples all over his face?" broke in Kate. "Yes," said Mistress Waynflete, with a little shudder. "He was in the village this afternoon with Lord Brocton," returned Kate.
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