Come, and do not fear me."
"Madge said you had witches' marks on your face," sobbed the child.
"Only the marks of gunpowder," said Grisell. "Listen, I will tell
thee what befell me."
Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn
nature, but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and the
girl's terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which was
Thora, and learning, too, that she had led a hard life since her
granny died, and her uncle's wife beat her, and made her carry heavy
loads of seaweed when it froze her hands, besides a hundred other
troubles. As to knowing any kind of feminine art, she was as
ignorant as if the rough and extremely dirty woollen garment she
wore, belted round with a strip of leather, had grown upon her, and
though Grisell's own stock of garments was not extensive, she was
obliged, for very shame, to dress this strange attendant in what she
could best spare, as well as, in spite of sobs and screams, to wash
her face, hands, and feet, and it was wonderful how great a
difference this made in the wild creature by the time the clang of
the castle bell summoned all to the midday meal, when as before,
Bernard professed not to be able to look at his sister, but when she
had retreated he was seen spying at her through his fingers, with
great curiosity.
Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries for
herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning.
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