Earl Hubert's Daughter Part 20

"Does he care for her?"

"I fancy he does, by the way I have seen him look up at her windows."

"Yes, I could tell that from his face."

The tone of her brother's voice struck Belasez unpleasantly.

"Cress! what dost thou mean?"

"It is a pity that the innocent need suffer with the guilty," answered Delecresse, contemptuously. "But it mostly turns out so in this world."

Belasez grasped her brother's wrists.

"Cress, thou hast no thought of revenging thyself on Sir Richard of Gloucester for that boyish trick he once played on thee?"

"I'll be even with him, Belasez. No man--least of all a Christian dog-- shall insult me with impunity."

"O Cress, Cress! Thou must not do it. Hast thou forgotten that vengeance belongeth to the Holy One, to whom be glory? And for such a mere nothing as that!"

"Nothing! Dost thou call it nothing for a son of Abraham to be termed a Jew cur by one of those creeping things of Gentiles? Is not the day at hand when they shall be our ploughmen and vine-dressers?"

"Well, then," answered Belasez, a.s.suming a playfulness which she was far from feeling, "when Sir Richard is thy ploughman, thou canst knock his cap off."

"Pish! They like high interest, these Christians. I'll let them have it, the other way about."

"Cress, what dost thou mean to do?"

"I mean that he shall pay me every farthing that he owes," said Delecresse through his clenched teeth. "I cannot have it in gold coins, perhaps. It will suit me as well in drops of blood,--either from his veins or from his heart."

"Delecresse, thou _shalt not_ touch the Damsel Margaret, if that be the meaning of those terrible words."

"I am not going to touch her," replied Delecresse, scornfully, "even with the tongs he took to my cap. I would not touch one of the vile insects for all the gold at Norwich!"

"But what dost thou mean?"

"Hold thou thy peace. I was a fool to tell thee."

"What art thou going to do?" persisted Belasez.

"What thou wilt hear when it is done," said Delecresse, walking away.

He left poor Belasez in grief and terror. Some misery, of what sort she could not even guess, was impending over her poor friend Margaret. How was it possible to warn her?--and of what was she to be warned?

A few minutes were spent in reflection, and then Belasez's work was hastily folded, and she went in search of her father. Abraham listened with a perplexed and annoyed face.

"That boy always lets his hands go before his head! But what can I do, daughter? In good sooth, I would not willingly see any injury done to the Christians that have been so kind to thee. Where is Cress?"

"He went into the kitchen," said Belasez. Abraham shuffled off in that direction, in the loose yellow slippers which were one of the recognised signs of a Jew.

"Delecresse is just gone out," he said, coming back directly. "I will talk to him when he comes in."

But twelve days elapsed before Delecresse returned.

"Cress, thou wilt not do anything to Sir Richard of Gloucester?"

earnestly pleaded Belasez, when she found him alone.

"No," said Delecresse, with a glitter in his eyes which was not promising.

"Hast thou done any thing?"

"All I mean to do."

"O Cress, what hast thou done?"

"Go to bed!" was the most lucid explanation which all the eager entreaties of Belasez could obtain from her brother.

Note 1. The feminine singular of the Hebrew word rendered, in the A.V., "creeping things." Dr Edersheim tells us that this flattering term is commonly employed in speaking of a Gentile.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

IN THE DARK.

"I trust Thee, though I cannot see Thy light upon my pathway shine; However dark, Lord, let it be Thy way, not mine!"

"If it stand with your good liking, may a man have speech of Sir Piers de Rievaulx?"

It was a tall youth who asked the question, and he stood under the porch of a large Gothic house, on the banks of the Thames near Westminster.

The night was wet and dark, and it was the second of April 1236.

"And who art thou, that would speak with the knight my master?"

"What I have to say to him is of consequence. Who I may be does not so much matter."

"Well said, my young c.o.c.kerel! Thou crowest fairly." The porter laughed as he set down the lantern which he had been holding up to the youth's face, and took down a large key from the peg on which it hung.

"What shall I say to my master touching thee?"

"Say, if it please you, that one would speak with him that hath important tidings, which closely concern the King's welfare."

"They were rash folks that trusted a slip like thee with important tidings."

"None trusted me."

"Eavesdropping, eh? Well, thou canst keep thine own counsel, lad as thou art. I will come back to thee shortly."

It was nearly half an hour before the porter returned; but the youth never changed his position, as he stood leaning against the side of the porch.