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His Grace of Osmonde

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CHAPTER I



The Fifth Day of April, 1676



Upon the village of Camylott there had rested since the earliest peep of dawn a hush of affectionate and anxious expectancy, the very plough-boys going about their labours without boisterous laughter, the children playing quietly, and the good wives in their kitchens and dairies bustling less than usual and modulating the sharpness of their voices, the most motherly among them in truth finding themselves falling into whispering as they gossiped of the great subject of the hour.

“The swallows were but just beginning to stir and twitter in their nests under the eaves when I heard the horses’ hoofs a-clatter on the high road,” said Dame Watt to her neighbour as they stood in close confab in her small front garden. “Lord’s mercy! though I have lain down expecting it every night for a week, the heart of me leapt up in my throat and I jounced Gregory with a thump in his back to wake him from his snoring. ‘Gregory,’ cries I, ”tis sure begun. God be kind to her young Grace this day. There goes a messenger clattering over the road. Hearken to his horse’s feet.'”

Dame Bush, her neighbour, being the good mother of fourteen stalwart boys and girls, heaved a lusty sigh, the sound of which was a thing suggesting much experience and fellow-feeling even with noble ladies at such times.

“There is not a woman’s heart in Camylott village,” said she, “which doth not beat for her to-day—and for his Grace and the heir or heiress that will come of these hours of hers. God bless all three!”

“Lord, how the tiny thing hath been loved and waited for!” said Dame Watt. “‘Tis somewhat to be born a great Duke’s child! And how its mother hath been cherished and kept like a young saint in a shrine!”

Product ID: 9781776748310
Sku: VO-NTSD-HUF9