The Nest of the Sparrowhawk | Page 7

silent
departure, all the zest seemed to have gone out of Lady Sue's mood.
The ingenuous flatteries of her little court irritated her now: she no
longer felt either amused or pleased by the extravagant compliments
lavished upon her beauty and skill by portly Squire John, by Sir
Timothy Harrison or the more diffident young Squire Pyncheon.
"Of a truth, I sometimes wish, Lady Sue, that I could find out if you

have any faults," remarked Squire Boatfield unctuously.
"Nay, Squire," she retorted sharply, "pray try to praise me to my female
friends."
In vain did Mistress Pyncheon admonish her son to be more bold in his
wooing.
"You behave like a fool, Oliver," she said meekly.
"But, Mother ..."
"Go, make yourself pleasing to her ladyship."
"But, Mother ..."
"I pray you, my son," she retorted with unusual acerbity, "do you want
a million or do you not?"
"But, Mother ..."
"Then go at once and get it, ere that fool Sir Timothy or the odious
Boatfield capture it under your very nose."
"But, Mother ..."
"Go! say something smart to her at once ... talk about your gray mare ...
she is over fond of horses ..."
Then as the young Squire, awkward and clumsy in his manner, more
accustomed to the company of his own servants than to that of
highborn ladies, made sundry unfortunate attempts to enchain the
attention of the heiress, his worthy mother turned with meek benignity
to Sir Marmaduke.
"A veritable infatuation, good Sir Marmaduke," she said with a sigh,
"quite against my interests, you know. I had no thought to see the dear
lad married so soon, nor to give up my home at the Dene yet, in favor
of a new mistress. Not but that Oliver is not a good son to his

mother--such a good lad!--and such a good husband he would be to any
girl who ..."
"A strange youth that secretary of yours, Sir Marmaduke," here
interposed Dame Harrison in her loud, dictatorial voice, breaking in on
Mistress Pyncheon's dithyrambs, "modest he appears to be, and silent
too: a paragon meseems!"
She spoke with obvious sarcasm, casting covert glances at Lady Sue to
see if she heard.
Sir Marmaduke shrugged his shoulders.
"Lambert is very industrious," he said curtly.
"I thought secretaries never did anything but suck the ends of their
pens," suggested Mistress Pyncheon mildly.
"Sometimes they make love to their employer's daughter," retorted
Dame Harrison spitefully, for Lady Sue was undoubtedly lending an
ear to the conversation now that it had the young secretary for object.
She was not watching Squire Boatfield who was wielding the balls just
then with remarkable prowess, and at this last remark from the portly
old dame, she turned sharply round and said with a strange little air of
haughtiness which somehow became her very well:
"But then you see, mistress, Master Lambert's employer doth not
possess a daughter of his own--only a ward ... mayhap that is the reason
why his secretary performs his duties so well in other ways."
Her cheeks were glowing as she said this, and she looked quite defiant,
as if challenging these disagreeable mothers and aunts of
fortune-hunting youths to cast unpleasant aspersions on a friend whom
she had taken under her special protection.
Sir Marmaduke looked at her keenly; a deep frown settled between his
eyes at sight of her enthusiasm. His face suddenly looked older, and
seemed more dour, more repellent than before.

"Sue hath such a romantic temperament," he said dryly, speaking
between his teeth and as if with an effort. "Lambert's humble origin has
fired her imagination. He has no parents and his elder brother is the
blacksmith down at Acol; his aunt, who seems to have had charge of
the boys ever since they were children, is just a common old woman
who lives in the village--a strict adherent, so I am told, of this new sect,
whom Justice Bennet of Derby hath so justly nicknamed 'Quakers.'
They talk strangely, these people, and believe in a mighty queer fashion.
I know not if Lambert be of their creed, for he does not use the 'thee'
and 'thou' when speaking as do all Quakers, so I am told; but his empty
pockets, a smattering of learning which he has picked up the Lord
knows where, and a plethora of unspoken grievances, have all proved a
sure passport to Lady Sue's sympathy."
"Nay, but your village of Acol seems full of queer folk, good Sir
Marmaduke," said Mistress Pyncheon. "I have heard talk among my
servants of a mysterious prince hailed from France, who has lately
made one of your cottages his home."
"Oh! ah! yes!" quoth Sir Marmaduke lightly, "the interesting exile from
the Court of King Louis. I did not know that his