Читать книгу Ye Lyttle Salem Maide. A Story of Witchcraft онлайн

22 страница из 52

“I am telled, Master Wentworth,” said a harsh voice, “that your dear and only daughter, Deliverance, be given o’er to vanity. Methinks, the magistrate awarded her too light a sentence for her idle flauntings. As I did chance to meet him at the tavern, at the nooning-hour, I took it upon myself to tell him, humbly, however, and in no spirit of criticism, that too great a leniency accomplishes much evil.”

Deliverance fairly jumped, so startled was she by the unexpected voice. Now for the first time she perceived a gentleman, in a sable cape, his booted legs crossed, and his arms folded on his breast, as he sat in the further corner of the room. One side of his face was hidden from view by the illuminated hour-glass, but the light of the concealed candle cast so soft and brilliant a glow over his figure that she was amazed at not having seen him before. His red beard rested on the white ruff around his neck. She could see but the tip of his long nose beneath his steeple-crowned hat. Yet she felt the gaze of those shadowed eyes fixed upon her piercingly. None other than Sir Jonathan Jamieson was he, of whom the stranger in the forest had made inquiry.