s nothing
to say for herself,--is the verdict of most surface observers who see
her: a girl who has nothing in her,--say a few who consider themselves
penetrating judges of character. Nearly all think that the Reverend
Robert Tremayne's partiality has outrun his judgment, for he says that
his adopted daughter thinks more than is physically good for her. A
girl who can never forget the siege of Leyden: never forget the dead
mother, whose latest act was to push the last fragment of malt-cake
towards her starving child; never forget the martyr-father burnt at
Ghent by the Regent Alva, who boasted to his master, Philip of Spain,
that during his short regency he had executed eighteen thousand
persons,--of course, heretics. Quiet, thoughtful, silent,--how could
Lysken Barnevelt be anything else?

A rap came at the door.

"Mistress Rachel, here's old Lot's wife. You'll happen come and see
her?" inquired Jennet, putting only her head in at the door.

"I will come to the hall, Jennet."

Jennet's head nodded and retreated. Rachel followed her.

"How doth Aunt Rachel snub us maids!" said Blanche lazily, clasping her
hands behind her head. "She never had no man to make suit unto her, so
she accounteth we may pass us [do without] belike."

"Who told thee so much?" asked Margaret bluntly.

"I lacked no telling," rejoined Blanche. "But I say, maids!--whom were
ye all fainest to wed?--What manner of man, I mean."

"I am bounden already," said Margaret calmly. "An' mine husband leave
me but plenty of work to do, he may order him otherwise according to his
liking."

"Work! thou art alway for work!" remonstrated ease-loving Blanche.

"For sure. What were men and women made for, if not work?"

"Nay, that Aunt Rachel asked of me, and I have not yet solute [solved]
the same.--Clare, what for thee?"

"I have no thought thereanent, Blanche. God will dispose of me."

"Why, so might a nun say.--Lysken, and thou?"

Lysken showed rather surprised eyes when she lifted her head. "What
questions dost thou ask, Blanche! How wit I if I shall ever marry? I
rather account nay."

"Ye be a pair of nuns, both of you!" said Blanche, laughing, yet in a
slightly annoyed tone. "Now, Lucrece, thou art of the world, I am well
assured. Answer me roundly,--not after the manner of these holy
sisters,--whom wert thou fainest to wed?"

"A gentleman of high degree," returned Lucrece, readily.

"Say a king, while thou goest about it,"