"Here be the 'Flying Postman,' madam, with the great speech of Mr. Burke

in it about the port of Boston; but it won't do a mossel o' good, madam,

though he do tell 'em to keep their hands out o' the Americans'

pockets."

"The port of Boston?"

"See you, madam, they are a-going to shut the port o' Boston, and make

Salem the place of entry; that's to punish the Bostonians; and Mr.

Burke, he says, 'The House has been told that Salem is only seventeen

miles from Boston but justice is not an idea of geography, and the

Americans are condemned without being heard. Yet the universal custom,

on any alteration of charters, is to hear the parties at the bar of the

House. Now, the question is, Are the Americans to be heard, or not,

before the charter is broken for our convenience?... The Boston bill is

a diabolical bill.'"

He read aloud this bit of Mr. Burke's fiery eloquence, in a high,

droning voice, and would, according to his custom, have continued the

entertainment; but Katherine, preferring to use her own intelligence,

borrowed the paper and was about to leave the room with it, when he

suddenly remembered a scarf of great beauty which he had not shown.

"I bought it for my Lady Suffolk," he said; "but Lord Suffolk died

sudden, and black my lady had to wear. It's forrin, madam; and here it

is--the very colour of affradiles. But mayhap, as it is candle-teening,

you'd like to wait till the day comes again."

A singular look of speculation came into Katherine's face. She examined

the scarf without delay; and, as she fingered the delicate silk, she led

the man on to talk of Lady Suffolk, though, indeed, he scarcely needed

the stimulus of questioning. Without regard as to whether Katherine was

taking any interest or not in his information, he detailed with hurried

avidity the town talk that had clung to her reputation for so many

years; and he so fully described the handsome cavalry officer that was

her devoted attendant that Katherine had no difficulty in recognizing

her husband, even without the clews which her own knowledge of the

parties gave her.

She stood in the gray light by the window, fingering the delicate

satin, and listening. The pedler glanced from his goods to her face, and

talked rapidly, interloping bits of news about the court and the

fashions; but going always back to Lady Suffolk and her lover, and what

was likely to take place now that Lord Suffolk was out of the way.

"Though there's them that do say the captain has a comely wife hid up in

the country."




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