My Lady Rotha: A Romance. Weyman Stanley John
such a fine day,' my lady pleaded.
'I never miss my Voetius,' Fraulein answered.
The Waldgrave looked at her quizzically, with scarcely veiled contempt. 'Voetius?' he said. 'What is that? You excite my curiosity.'
Perhaps it was the contrast between them, between his strength and comeliness and her weak figure and pale frowning face, that moved me; but I know that as he said that, I felt a sudden pity for her. And she, I think, for herself. She reddened and looked down and seemed to go smaller. Scholarship is a fine thing; I have heard Fraulein Anna herself say that knowledge is power. But I never yet saw a bookworm that did not pale his fires before a soldier of fortune, nor a scholar that did not follow the courtier and the ruffler with eyes of envy.
Perhaps my lady felt as I did, for she came to the rescue. 'You are too bad,' she said. 'Anna is my friend, and I will not have her teased. As for Voetius, he is a writer of learning, and you would know more about many things, if you could read his works, sir.'
'Do you read them?' he asked.
'I do!' she answered.
'Good heavens!' he exclaimed, staring at her freely and affecting to be astonished. 'Well, all I can say is that you do not look like it!'
My lady fired up at that. I think she felt for her friend. 'I do not thank you,' she said sharply. 'A truce to such compliments, if you please. Anna,' she continued, 'have you been to see this poor girl from the town?'
'No,' Fraulein Max answered.
'She has come, has she not?'
'And gone-to the stables!' And Fraulein Anna laughed spitefully. 'She is used to camp life, I suppose, and prefers them.'
'But that is not right,' my lady said, with a look of annoyance. She turned and called to me. 'Martin,' she said, 'come here. This girl-the papist from the town-why has she not been brought to the women's quarters in the house?'
I answered that I did not know; that she should have been.
'We will go and see,' my lady answered, nodding her head in a way that premised trouble should any one be found in fault. And without a moment's hesitation she led the way to the inner court, the Waldgrave walking beside her, and Fraulein Anna following a pace or two behind. The latter still hugged her book, and her face wore a look of secret anticipation. I took on myself to go too, and followed at a respectful distance, my mind in a ferment.
The stable court at Heritzburg is small. The rays of the sun even at noon scarcely warm it, and a shadow seemed to fall on our party as we entered. Two grooms, not on guard, were going about their ordinary duties. They started on seeing my lady, who seldom entered that part without notice; and hastened to do reverence to her.
'Where is the girl who was brought here from the town?' she said, in a peremptory tone.
The men looked at one another, scared by her presence, yet not knowing what was amiss. Then one said, 'Please your excellency, she is in the room over the granary.'
'She should be in the house, not here,' my lady answered harshly. 'Take me to her.'
The man stared, and the Waldgrave, seeing his look of astonishment, interposed, murmuring that perhaps the place was scarcely fit.
'For me?' my lady said, cutting him short, with a high look which reminded me of her uncle, Count Tilly. 'You forget, sir cousin, that I am not a woman only, but mistress here. Ignorance, which may be seemly in a woman, does not become me. Lead on, my man.'
The fellow led the way up a flight of outside steps which gave access to the upper granary floor; and my lady followed, rejecting the Waldgrave's hand and gazing with an unmoved eye at the unfenced edge on her left; for the stairs had no rail. At the top the groom opened the door and squeezed himself aside, and my lady entered. The Waldgrave had given place to Fraulein Anna-whom desire to see what would happen had blinded to the risks of the stairs-and she was not slow to follow. The young lord and I pressed in a pace behind.
'This is not a fit place for a maiden!' I heard my lady say severely; and then she stopped. That was before I could see inside, the sudden pause coming as I entered. The loft was dark, the unglazed windows being shuttered; but my eyes are good, and I knew the place, and saw at once-what my lady had seen, I think, at a second glance only-that the man beside whom the girl was kneeling-or had been kneeling, for as I entered she rose to her feet with a word of alarm-was bandaged from his chin to his crown, was helpless and maundering, talking strange nonsense, and rolling his head restlessly from side to side.
'Why, you are a child!' my lady said; and this time her voice was soft and low and full of surprise. 'Who is this?' she continued, pointing to the man; who never ceased to babble and move.
'It is Steve, my lady,' I said. 'He was hurt below, in the town, and the girl has been nursing him. I suppose she-I think no one told her to go elsewhere,' I added by way of apology for her.
'Where could she be better?' my lady said in a low voice. 'Child,' she continued gently,' come here. Do not be afraid.'
The girl had shrunk back at the sound of my lady's first words, or at sight of so large a company, and had taken her stand on the farther side of Steve, where she crouched trembling and looking at us with a terrified face. Hearing herself summoned, she came slowly and timidly forward, the little boy who had run to her holding her hand, and hiding his face in her skirts.
'I am the countess,' my lady said, looking at her closely, but with kindness, 'and I have come to see how you fare.'
It was a hard moment for the girl, but she did the very best thing she could have done, and one that commended her to my lady's heart for ever. For, bursting into tears-I doubt not the sound of a woman's voice speaking mildly to her touched her heart-she dropped on her knees before the countess and kissed her hand, sobbing piteous words of thankfulness and appeal.
'Chut! chut!' my lady said, a little tremor in her own voice. 'You are safe now. Be comforted. You shall be protected here, whatever betide. But you have lost your father? Yes, I remember, child. Well, it is over now. You are quite safe. See, this gentleman shall be your champion. And Martin there. He is a match for any two. Tell me your name.'
'Marie-Marie Wort.' The girl answered suppressing her tears with an effort.
'How old are you?'
'Seventeen, please your excellency.'
'And where were you born, Marie?'
'At Munich, in Bavaria.'
'You are a Romanist, I hear?'
'If it please your excellency.'
'It does not please me at all,' my lady answered promptly; but she said it with so much mildness that Marie's eyes filled again. 'I warn you, we shall, try to convert you-by kindness. So you are nursing this poor fellow?' And my lady went up to Steve, and touched his hand and spoke to him. But he did not know her, and she stepped back, looking grave.
'The fever is on him now,' Marie said timidly. 'He is at his worst; but he will be better by-and-by, if your excellency pleases.'
'He is fortunate in his nurse,' my lady answered, gazing searchingly at the other's pale face. 'Will you stay with him, child, or would you rather come into the house, where my women could take care of you, and you would be more comfortable?'
A look of distress flickered in the girl's eyes. She hesitated and looked down, colouring painfully. I dare say that with feminine tact she knew that my lady even now thought it scarcely proper for her to be there-in a house where only the men about the stable lived. But she found her answer.
'He was hurt trying to protect me,' she murmured, in a low voice.
My lady nodded. 'Very well,' she said; and I saw that she was not displeased. 'You shall stay with him. I will see that you are taken care of. Come, Rupert, I think we have seen enough.'
She signed to us to go before her, and we all went out, and she closed the door. At the head of the steps, when the Waldgrave offered her his hand, she waved it away, and stood.
'Bring me a hammer and a nail,' she cried.
Three or four men, nearly half our garrison, had collected below,