Simon Dale | Page 7

their
escort.
Barbara turned to me; there was a gleam of triumph in the depths of her
dark eyes.
"Perhaps when you hear of me at Court," she cried, "you'll be sorry to
think how----"
But she broke off suddenly, and looked out of the window.
"You'll find a husband there," I suggested bitterly.
"Like enough," said she carelessly.
To be plain, I was in no happy mood. Her going grieved me to the heart,
and that she should go thus incensed stung me yet more. I was jealous
of every man in London town. Had not my argument, then, some
reason in it after all?
"Fare-you-well, madame," said I, with a heavy frown and a sweeping
bow. No player from the Lane could have been more tragic.
"Fare-you-well, sir. I will not detain you, for you have, I know, other
farewells to make."
"Not for a week yet!" I cried, goaded to a show of exultation that
Cydaria stayed so long.
"I don't doubt that you'll make good use of the time," she said, as with a
fine dignity she waved me to the door. Girl as she was, she had caught
or inherited the grand air that great ladies use.
Gloomily I passed out, to fall into the hands of my lord, who was
walking on the terrace. He caught me by the arm, laughing in

good-humoured mockery.
"You've had a touch of sentiment, eh, you rogue?" said he. "Well,
there's little harm in that, since the girl leaves us to-morrow."
"Indeed, my lord, there was little harm," said I, long-faced and rueful.
"As little as my lady herself could wish." (At this he smiled and
nodded.) "Mistress Barbara will hardly so much as look at me."
He grew graver, though the smile still hung about his lips.
"They gossip about you in the village, Simon," said he. "Take a friend's
counsel, and don't be so much with the lady at the cottage. Come, I
don't speak without reason." He nodded at me as a man nods who
means more than he will say. Indeed, not a word more would he say, so
that when I left him I was even more angry than when I parted from his
daughter. And, the nature of man being such as Heaven has made it,
what need to say that I bent my steps to the cottage with all convenient
speed? The only weapon of an ill-used lover (nay, I will not argue the
merits of the case again) was ready to my hand.
Yet my impatience availed little; for there, on the seat that stood by the
door, sat my good friend the Vicar, discoursing in pleasant leisure with
the lady who named herself Cydaria.
"It is true," he was saying. "I fear it is true, though you're over young to
have learnt it."
"There are schools, sir," she returned, with a smile that had (or so it
seemed to me) a touch--no more--of bitterness in it, "where such
lessons are early learnt."
"They are best let alone, those schools," said he.
"And what's the lesson?" I asked, drawing nearer.
Neither answered. The Vicar rested his hands on the ball of his cane,
and suddenly began to relate old Betty Nasroth's prophecy to his

companion. I cannot tell what led his thoughts to it, but it was never far
from his mind when I was by. She listened with attention, smiling
brightly in whimsical amusement when the fateful words, pronounced
with due solemnity, left the Vicar's lips.
"It is a strange saying," he ended, "of which time alone can show the
truth."
She glanced at me with merry eyes, yet with a new air of interest. It is
strange the hold these superstitions have on all of us; though surely
future ages will outgrow such childishness.
"I don't know what the prophecy means," said she; "yet one thing at
least would seem needful for its fulfilment--that Mr Dale should
become acquainted with the King."
"True!" cried the Vicar eagerly. "Everything stands on that, and on that
we stick. For Simon cannot love where the King loves, nor know what
the King hides, nor drink of the King's cup, if he abide all his days here
in Hatchstead. Come, Simon, the plague is gone!"
"Should I then be gone too?" I asked. "But to what end? I have no
friends in London who would bring me to the notice of the King."
The Vicar shook his head sadly. I had no such friends, and the King
had proved before now that he could forget many a better friend to the
throne than my dear father's open mind had made of him.
"We must wait, we must wait still," said the Vicar. "Time will find a
friend."
Cydaria had become pensive for a moment,