ck
between the yews.

'"Simply that De Avila broke in upon a plantation of Frenchmen on that
coast, and very Spaniardly hung them all for heretics--eight hundred or
so. The next year Dominique de Gorgues, a Gascon, broke in upon De
Avila's men, and very justly hung 'em all for murderers--five hundred or
so. No Christians inhabit there now," says the elder lad, "though 'tis a
goodly land north of Florida."

'"How far is it from England?" asks prudent Gloriana.

'"With a fair wind, six weeks. They say that Philip will plant it again
soon." This was the younger, and he looked at her out of the corner of
his innocent eye.

'Chris Hatton, fuming, meets and leads her into Brickwall Hall, where
she dances--thus. A woman can think while she dances--can think. I'll
show you. Watch!'

She took off her cloak slowly, and stood forth in dove-coloured satin,
worked over with pearls that trembled like running water in the running
shadows of the trees. Still talking--more to herself than to the
children--she swam into a majestical dance of the stateliest balancings,
the haughtiest wheelings and turnings aside, the most dignified
sinkings, the gravest risings, all joined together by the elaboratest
interlacing steps and circles.

They leaned forward breathlessly to watch the splendid acting.

'Would a Spaniard,' she began, looking on the ground, 'speak of his
revenge till his revenge were ripe? No. Yet a man who loved a woman
might threaten her in the hope that his threats would make her love him.
Such things have been.' She moved slowly across a bar of sunlight. 'A
destruction from the West may signify that Philip means to descend on
Ireland. But then my Irish spies would have had some warning. The Irish
keep no secrets. No--it is not Ireland. Now why--why--why'--the red
shoes clicked and paused--'does Philip name Pedro Melendez de Avila, a
general in his Americas, unless'--she turned more quickly--'unless he
intends to work his destruction from the Americas? Did he say De Avila
only to put her off her guard, or for this once has his black pen
betrayed his black heart? We'--she raised herself to her full
height--'England must forestall Master Philip. But not openly,' she sank
again--'we cannot fight Spain openly--not yet--not yet.' She stepped
three paces as though she were pegging down some snare with her
twinkling shoe-buckles. 'The Queen's mad gentlemen may fight Philip's
poor admirals where they find 'em, but England, Glor