Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath
in abuse of him and all around, carried the child up to his bed.
There he was moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darkness
having put a stop to Grisell's spinning, she went to her chamber with
Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she even thought
her mother was crying. She ventured to approach and ask, "Fares he
no better? If I might rub that poor leg."
But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, "Go away, Grisly," and
her mother exclaimed, "Away with you, I have enough to vex me here
without you."
She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down her
face as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices,
the same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Before
they were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harsh
and angered voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness for
some little time, but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again,
and there was a jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one,
now thinner and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, and
crept out. "If I might rub him a little while, and you rest, Lady
Mother. He cannot see me now."
She prevailed, or rather the poor mother's utter weariness and
dejection did, together with the father's growl, "Let her bring us
peace if she can."
Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand to
the aching thigh.
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