Indeed she had probably
forgotten that Grisell was far too tall to be made up into the bundle
she intended; but she then declared that the wench might ride pillion
behind old Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was taken
up to the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them was
a choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood over the
bed, exclaiming, "Aye, no wonder; it serves thee right, thou evil
wench, filching my Lady Countess's mirror from her very chamber, when
it might have been broken for all thanks to thee. The Venice glass
that the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair a sight, I trow, as
to be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all the scathe in
the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee."
So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hear
the approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of the
Countess, "Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated!
Silence!"
"See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship's Venice glass,
which she never should have touched. She must have run to your
chamber while you were at mass. All false her feigning to be so sick
and feeble."
"Ay," replied Lady Whitburn, "she must up--don her clothes, and away
with me."
"Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor child. Call
Master Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water." The Countess was
raising the poor child in her arms, and against her bosom, for the
shock of that glance in the mirror, followed by the maid's harsh
reproaches, and fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had brought
on a choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girl
writhed and gasped on Lady Salisbury's breast, while her mother
exclaimed, "Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to hinder me from
taking her home.
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