The Panchronicon Part 43

"As fer bein' loony, I can tell you this. Ef you was where I come from in America, they'd say every blessed one of ye was crazy as a hen with her head off."

"America!" exclaimed the Queen, as a new thought struck her. "America!

Tell me, dame, come you from the New World?"

"That's what it's sometimes called in the geographies," Rebecca stiffly replied. "I come from Peltonville, New Hampshire, myself. Perhaps I'd ought to introduce myself. My name's Rebecca Wise, daughter of Wilmot and Nancy Wise, both deceased."

She concluded her sentence with more of graciousness than she had shown in the beginning, and the Queen, now fully convinced of the innocent sincerity of her visitor, showed a countenance of half-amused, half-eager interest.

"Why, Sir Walter," she cried, "this cometh within your province, methinks. If that this good woman be an American, you should be best able to parley with her and learn her will."

A dark-haired, stern-visaged man of middle height, dressed less extravagantly than his fellows, acknowledged this address by advancing and bending one knee to the deck. Here was no longer the gay young courtier who so gallantly spoiled a handsome cloak to save his sovereign's shoes, but the Raleigh who had fought a hundred battles for the same mistress and had tasted the bitterness of her jealous cruelty in reward.

There was in his pose and manner, however, much of that old grace which had first endeared him to Elizabeth, and even now served to fix her fickle favor.

"Most fair and gracious Majesty," he said in a low, well-modulated voice, turning upward a seeming fascinated eye, "what Walter Raleigh hath learned of any special knowledge his sovereign hath taught him, and all that he is is hers of right."

"'Tis well, my good knight," said Elizabeth, beckoning with her slender finger that he might rise. "We know your true devotion and require now this service, that you question this stranger in her own tongue concerning her errand here and her quality and estate at home."

As Raleigh rose and advanced toward Rebecca, without turning away from the Queen, the half-bewildered American brought the end of her umbrella sharply down upon the floor with a gesture of impatience.

"What everlastin' play-actin' ways!" she snapped. Then, addressing Sir Walter: "Say, Mr. Walter," she continued, "ef you can't walk only sideways, you needn't trouble to travel clear over here to me. I'll come to you."

Suiting the action to the word, Rebecca stepped briskly forward until she stood in front of the rather crestfallen courtier.

He rallied promptly, however, and marshalling by an effort all he could remember of the language of the red man, he addressed the astonished Rebecca in that tongue.

"What's that?" she said.

Again Sir Walter poured forth an unintelligible torrent of syllables which completed Rebecca's disgust.

With a pitying smile, she folded her hands across her stomach.

"Who's loony now?" she said, quietly.

Raleigh gazed helplessly from Rebecca to the Queen and back again from the Queen to Rebecca.

Elizabeth, who had but imperfectly heard what had pa.s.sed between the two, leaned forward impatiently.

"What says she, Raleigh?" she demanded. "Doth she give a good account?"

"Good my liege," said Raleigh, with a despairing gesture, "an the dame be from America, her tribe and race must needs be a distant one, placed remote from the coast. The natives of the Floridas----"

"Florida!" exclaimed Rebecca. "What you talkin' about, anyway? That's away down South. I come from New Hampshire, I tell you."

"Know you that region, Raleigh?" said the Queen, anxiously.

Raleigh shook his head with a thoughtful expression.

"Nay, your Majesty," he replied. "And if I might venture to hint my doubts--" He paused.

"Well, go on, man--go on!" said the Queen, impatiently.

"I would observe that the name is an English one, and 'tis scarce credible that in America, where our tongue is unknown, any region can be named for an English county."

"Land sakes!" exclaimed Rebecca, in growing amazement. "Don't know English! Why--don't I talk as good English as any of ye? You don't have to talk Bible talk to speak English, I sh'd hope!"

Elizabeth frowned and settled back in her chair, turning her piercing eyes once more upon her mysterious visitor.

"Your judgment is most sound, Sir Walter," she said. "In sooth, 'twere pa.s.sing strange were our own tongue to be found among the savages of the New World! What have ye to say to this, mistress?"

Rebecca turned her eyes from one to the other of the bystanders, doubtful at first whether or not they were all in a conspiracy to mock her. Her good sense told her that this was wellnigh impossible, and she finally came to the conclusion that sheer ignorance was the only explanation.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed at last. "I've heerd tell about how simple Britishers was, but this beats all! Do you reely mean to tell me," she continued, vehemently nodding her head at the Queen, "that you think the's nothin' but Indians in America?"

A murmur of indignation spread through the a.s.sembly caused by language and manners so little suited to the address of royalty.

"The woman hath lost her wits!" said the Queen, dryly.

"There 'tis again!" said Rebecca, testily. "Why, ef it comes to talk of simpletons and the like, I guess the pot can't call the kettle black!"

Elizabeth gripped the arm of her chair and leaned forward angrily, while two or three gentlemen advanced, watching their mistress for the first sign of a command. At the same moment, a triumphant thought occurred to Rebecca, and, dropping her umbrella, she opened her satchel with both hands.

"Ye needn't to get mad, Mrs. Tudor," she said. "I didn't mean any offence, but I guess you wouldn't like to be called a lunatic yerself.

See here," she continued, dragging forth a section of the newspaper which she had brought with her, "ef you folks won't believe my word, jest look at this! It's all here in the newspaper--right in print.

There!"

She held the paper high where all might see, and with one accord Queen and courtiers craned forward eagerly, burning with curiosity at sight of the printed columns interspersed with nineteenth-century ill.u.s.trations.

Rebecca stepped forward and handed the paper to the Queen, and then, drawing forth another section from her bag, she carried it to the bewildered Raleigh, who took it like one in a trance.

For some time no one spoke. Elizabeth turned the paper this way and that, reading a bit here and a bit there, and gazing spellbound upon the enigmatic pictures.

Having completely mastered the situation, Rebecca now found time to consider her comfort. Far on one side, near the door through which she had entered, there stood a youth of perhaps sixteen, clad in the somewhat fantastic garb of a page. Having picked up her umbrella, Rebecca approached this youth and said in a sharp whisper:

"Couldn't you get me a chair, sonny?"

The lad disappeared with startling prompt.i.tude, but he did not return.

It was an agony of perplexity and shyness which had moved him, not a willingness to serve.

Rebecca gazed about at the etiquette-bound men and women around her and muttered, with an indignant snort and toss of the head:

"Set o' decorated haystacks!"

Then, with head held high and a frigid "Beg pardon, mister!" she elbowed her way through the dense throng of gentlemen-in-waiting and seated herself on the bench arranged along the side of the cabin.

"Oof!" she exclaimed. "Feels though my legs would drop clear off!"

At length the Queen looked up.