The Heart

As for Catherine, she was borne along as silently as though she

slept, being, I doubt not, still exhausted with her swoon. When I

came close to Mistress Mary's chair, forth came her little hand,

shining with that preciousness of fairness beyond that of a pearl,

and "Master Wingfield," said she in a whisper, lest she disturb

Catherine, "what, what, I pray thee, was it the witch-woman said?"

I laughed. "She was calling down a blessing upon my head, Madam," I

said.

"A blessing and not a curse?"

"As I understood it, though I know not why she should have blessed

me."

"They say she is a white witch, and worketh good instead of harm,

and yet--" said Mistress Mary, and her voice trembled, showing

her fear, and I could see the negroes rolling eyes of wide alarm at

me, for they were much affected by all hints of deviltry.

"I pray you, Madam, to have no fear," I said, and thought within

myself that never should she know of what had happened on my way

thither.

"They say that her good deeds work in the end to mischief," said

Mary, "and, and--'tis sure no good whatever can come from

unlawful dealing with the powers of evil even in a good cause. I

wish the witch-woman had neither cursed thee nor blessed thee,

Harry."

I strove again to reassure her, and said, as verily I begun to

believe, that the old dame's words whether of cursing or blessing

were of no moment, but presently Mistress Mary declared herself

afraid of riding alone shut within her sedan chair, and would

alight, and have one of the slaves lead my horse, and walk with me,

taking my arm the remainder of the way.

I had never known Mistress Mary Cavendish to honour me so before,

and knew not to what to attribute it, whether to alarm as she said,

or not. And I knew not whether to be enraptured or angered at my own

rapture, or whether I should use or not that authority which I had

over her, and which she could not, strive as best she could,

gainsay, and bid her remain in her chair.

But being so sorely bewildered I did nothing, but let her have her

way, and on toward Drake Hill we walked, she clinging to my arm, and

seemingly holding me to a slow pace, and the slaves with the chairs,

and my horse, forging ahead with ill-concealed zeal on account of

that chanting proclamation of Margery Key, which, I will venture to

say, was considered by every one of the poor fellows as a special

curse directed toward him, instead of a blessing for me.