The House of Arden - E. Nesbit (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) 📗

a base plot, she ought to be glad, and she was not glad. She felt⁠—and called herself⁠—a sneak. She had taken advantage of having been born so much later than all these people, and of having been rather good at history to give away the lives of all these nobles and gentlemen. That they were traitors to King and Parliament made no manner of difference. It was she, as she felt but too bitterly, who was the traitor. And in the thick-walled room in the Tower, where the name of Raleigh was still fresh in its carving, Elfrida lay awake, long after Lady Arden and Edred were sleeping peacefully, and hated herself, calling herself a Traitor, a Coward, and an Utter Duffer. IX The Prisoners in the Tower

Imprisoned in the Tower of London, accused of high treason, and having confessed to a too intimate knowledge of the Gunpowder Plot, Elfrida could not help feeling that it would be nice to be back again in her own time, and at Arden, where, if you left events alone, and didn’t interfere with them by any sort of magic mouldiwarpiness, nothing dangerous, romantic or thrilling would ever happen. And yet, when she was there, as you know, she never could let events alone. She and Edred could not be content with that castle and that house which, even as they stood, would have made you and me so perfectly happy. They wanted the treasure, and they⁠—Elfrida especially⁠—wanted adventures. Well, now they had got an adventure, both of them. There was no knowing how it would turn out either, and that, after all, is the essence of adventures. Edred was lodged with Lord Arden and several other gentlemen in the White Tower, and Elfrida and Lady Arden were in quite a different part of the building. And the children were not allowed to meet. This, of course, made it impossible for either of them to try to get back to their own times. For though they sometimes quarrelled, as you know, they were really fond of each other, and most of us would hesitate to leave even a person we were not very fond of alone a prisoner in the Tower in the time of James I and the Gunpowder Plot.

Elfrida had to wait on her mother and to sew at the sampler, which had been thoughtfully brought by the old nurse with her lady’s clothes, and the clothes Elfrida wore. But there were no games, and the only out-of-doors Elfrida could get was on a very narrow terrace where dead flower-stalks stuck up out of a still narrower border, beside a flagged pathway where there was just room for one to walk, and not for two. From this terrace you could see the fat, queer-looking ships in the river, and the spire of St. Paul’s.

Edred was more fortunate. He was allowed to play in the garden of the Lieutenant of the Tower. But he did not feel much like playing. He wanted to find Elfrida and get back to Arden. Everyone was very kind to him, but he had to be very much quieter than he was used to being, and to say Sir and Madam, and not to speak till he was spoken to. You have no idea how tiresome it is not to speak till you are spoken to, with the world full, as it is, of a thousand interesting things that you want to ask questions about.

One day⁠—for they were there quite a number of days⁠—Edred met someone who seemed to like answering questions, and this made more difference than perhaps you would think.

Edred was walking one bright winter morning in the private garden of the Lieutenant of the Tower, and he saw coming towards him a very handsome old gentleman dressed in very handsome clothes, and, what is more, the clothes blazed with jewels. Now, most of the gentlemen who were prisoners in the Tower at that time thought that their very oldest clothes were good enough to be in prison in, so this splendour that was coming across the garden was very unusual as well as very dazzling, and before Edred could remember the rules about not speaking till you’re spoken to, he found that he had suddenly bowed and said⁠—

“Your servant, sir;” adding, “you do look ripping!”

“I do not take your meaning,” said the gentleman, but he smiled kindly.

“I mean, how splendid you look!”

The old gentleman looked pleased.

“I am happy to command your admiration,” he said.

“I mean your clothes;” said Edred, and then feeling with a shock that this was not the way to behave, he added, “Your face is splendid too⁠—only I’ve been taught manners, and I know you mustn’t tell people they’re handsome in their faces. ‘Praise to the face is open disgrace,’⁠—Mrs. Honeysett says so.”

“Praise to my face isn’t open disgrace,” said the gentleman, “it is a pleasant novelty in these walls.”

“Is it your birthday or anything?” Edred asked.

“It is not my birthday,” said the gentleman smiling. “But why the question?”

“Because you’re so grand,” said Edred. “I suppose you’re a prince then?”

“No, not a prince⁠—a prisoner.”

“Oh, I see,” said Edred, as people so often do when they don’t; “and you’re going to be let out today, and you’ve put on your best things to go home in. I am so glad. At least, I’m sorry you’re going, but I’m glad on your account.”

“Thou’rt a fine, bold boy,” said the gentleman. “But no. I am a prisoner, and like to remain so. And for these gauds,” he swelled out his chest so that his diamond buttons and ruby earrings and gem-set collar flashed in the winter sun⁠—“for these gauds, never shall it be said that Walter Raleigh let the shadow of his prison tarnish his pride in the proper arraying of a body that has been honoured to kneel before the Virgin Queen.” He took off his hat at the last words and swept it, with a flourish, nearly to the