A Maid of Many Moods

by Virna Sheard

  CHAPTER XI

  XI

  It is Christmas eve once more, and all the diamond window panes of OneTree Inn--are aglitter with light from the Yule log fire in the frontroom chimney-place and the many candles Mistress Debora placed in theirbrass candlesticks.

  Little Dorien had followed her joyously from room to room, and manytimes she had lifted him in her strong, young arms and let him touchthe wick with the lighted spill and start the fairy flame. Then hismerry laugh rang through the house, and John Sevenoakes and MasterThornbury, sitting by the hearth below, smiled as they listened, for itis so good a thing to hear, the merry, whole-hearted, innocent laughterof a child.

  Even the leathery, grim old face of Ned Saddler relaxed into a pleasantexpression at the sound of it, though 'twas against his will to allowhimself to show anything of happiness he felt; for he was much like asmall, tart winter apple, wholesome and sound at heart, yet sour enoughto set one's teeth on edge.

  And they talked together, these three ancient cronies, while now andthen Master Thornbury leaned over and stirred the contents of the bigcopper pot on the crane, sorely scorching his kindly face in theoperation.

  Presently Nick Berwick came in, stamping the snow off his long boots,and he crossed to the hearth and turned his broad back to the fire,even as he had done a year before on Christmas eve. His face wasgraver than it had been, for his soul had had a wide outlook sincethen, but his mouth smiled in the old-time sweet and friendly fashion,and if he had any ache of the heart he made no sign.

  "Hast come over from Stratford, lad?" asked Thornbury.

  "Ay!" he answered, "an' I just met little Judith Shakespeare hasteningaway from grand dame Hathaway's. She tells me her father is cominghome for Christmas. Never saw I one in a greater flutter ofexcitement. 'Oh! Nick,' she cried out, ere I made sure who it was inthe dusk, 'Hast heard the news?' 'What news, gossip?' I answered.'Why, that my father will be home to-night,' she called back. ''Tismore than I dreamed or dared to hope, but 'tis true.' I could see theshining of her eyes as she spoke, and she tripped onward as though theroad were covered with rose-leaves instead of snow."

  "She is a giddy wench," said Saddler, "and doth lead Deb into half herpranks. If I had a daughter now----"

  Thornbury broke into a great laugh and clapped the old fellow soundlyon the shoulder.

  "Hark to him!" he cried. "If he had a daughter! Marry and amen, Iwould we could see what kind of maid she would be."

  "I gainsay," put in Sevenoakes, thinking to shift the subject, "thatWill Shakespeare comes home as much for Deb's wedding as aught else."

  A shade went over Berwick's face. "The church hath been pranked outmost gaily, Master Thornbury," he said.

  "'Twill be gay enough," said Saddler, "but there'll be little comfortin it and small rest for a man's hand or elbow anywhere for the hollythey've strung up. I have two lame thumbs with the prickles that haverun into them."

  Thornbury smiled. "Then 'twas thou who helped the lads and lasses thisafternoon, Ned," he said; "and I doubt nothing 'twas no one else whohung the great bunch of mistletoe in the chancel! I marvel at thee."

  At this they all laughed so loudly that they did not hear Deb andlittle Dorien enter the room and come over to the hearth, with Trampfollowing.

  "What art making so merry over, Dad?" she questioned, looking from oneto another.

  "Nay, ask me not. Ask Saddler."

  "He doth not like maids who are curious," she said, shaking her head."I am content to be in the dark."

  Then she cried, listening, "There, dost not hear the coach? I surelycaught the rumble of the wheels, and she is on time for once! Come,Dorien. Come, Dad, we will to the door to meet them."

  Soon the lumbering coach swung up the road and the tired horses stoppedunder the oak.

  And it was a welcome worth having the two travellers got, for DarbyThornbury and Don Sherwood had journeyed from London together, ay! andMaster Shakespeare had borne them company, though he left them half amile off. As the group drew their chairs about the fireplace, Darbyhad many a jest and happy story to repeat that the master told them onthe homeward way, for he was ever the best company to make a long roadseem short.

  Deb sat in her old seat in the inglenook and Master Sherwood stoodbeside her, where he could best see the ruddy light play over herwondrous hair and in the tender depths of her eyes. They seemed tolisten, these two, as Darby went lightly from one London topic toanother, for now and then Don Sherwood put in a word or so in thatmellow voice of his, and Deb smiled often--yet it may be they did notfollow him over closely, for they were dreaming a dream of their ownand the day after the morrow was their wedding day.

  Darby went lightly from one London topic to another]

  The child Dorien lay upon the sheepskin rug at Deb's feet and watchedDarby. His eager, beautiful little face lit up with joy, for were theynot all there together, those out of the whole world he loved the best,and it would be Christmas in the morning. What more could any childdesire?

  "When I look at the little lad, Don," said Debora, softly, "my thoughtsgo back to his mother. 'Twas on such a night as this, as I have toldthee, that Darby found her in the snow."

  "Think not of it, sweetheart," he answered; "the child, at least, hasmissed naught that thou could'st give."

  "I know, I know," she said, in a passionate, low tone, "but it troublesme when I think of all that I have of care and life's blessings, and ofher woe and desolation, and through no sin, save that of loving toowell. I see not why it should be."

  "Ah!" he said, bending towards her, "there are some 'Why's' that mustwait for their answer--for 'twill not come this side o' heaven." Then,in lighter tone, "When I look at the little lad I see but thatscapegrace kinsman of mine; but although he is so marvellous like him,thou wilt be his guide. I fear nothing for his future, for who couldbe aught but good with thee, my heart's love, beside them."

  And presently there was a stir as Nicholas Berwick rose and bid allgood-night, and this reminded John Sevenoakes and Ned Saddler that thehour was late. It was then that Berwick went to Deb, at a moment whenshe stood apart from the others. He held towards her a smallleather-covered box.

  "'Tis my wedding gift to thee, Deb," he said, his grave eyes upon herchangeful face. "'Tis a pearl collar my mother wore on her wedding-daywhen she was young and fair as thou art. I will not be here to see howsweet thou dost look in it."

  "Thou wilt in the church, Nick?"

  "Nay, I will not. I have not told thee before, as I would not plant athorn in any of thy roses, but I ride to London on the morrow. I havemuch work there, for later on I sail to America to the new Colonies, incharge of certain stores for Sir Walter Raleigh."

  She raised her eyes, tear-filled and tender, to his.

  "I wish thee peace, Nick," she said, "wherever thou art--and I have nofear but that gladness will follow. I will miss thee, for thou wertever my friend."

  He lifted her hand to his lips and went away, and in the quiet thatfollowed, when Master Thornbury and Darby talked together, Don Sherwooddrew Debora into the shadow by the window-seat.

  "I' faith," he said, "if I judge not wrongly by Master NicholasBerwick's face when he spoke with thee but now, he doth love thee also,Deb."

  "Ah!" she answered, "he hath indeed said so in the past and moreoverproven it."

  "In very truth, yes. But thou," with a flash in his eyes, "dost care?Hast aught of love for him? Nay, I need not ask thee."

  She smiled a little, half sadly.

  "I love but thee," she said.

  He gave a short, light laugh, then looked grave.

  "'Tis another of life's 'Why's,' sweetheart, that awaiteth an answer.Why!--why, in heaven's name, should I have the good fortune to winthee, when he, who I think is far the better gentleman, hath failed?"

  As he spoke, the bells of Stratford rang out their joyous pealing, andthe sound came to them on the night wind. Then the child, who had beenasleep curled up on the soft rug, opened his
wondering eyes.

  Deb stooped and lifted him, and he laid his curly head against hershoulder.

  "Is it Christmas, Deb?" he asked, sleepily.

  "Yes, my lamb," she answered; "for, hark! the bells are ringing it in,and they say, 'Peace, Dorien--Peace and goodwill to men.'"

  THE END

  Chapter 11 tailpiece]