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Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe, 1850-1943

"Queen Hildegarde"

What should she do? Call
Dame Hartley? The "poor dear" was suffering much, and why should she be
disturbed? Run to find the farmer? She might have to run all over the
farm! No; she would attend to this herself. She was not in the least
afraid. She knew pretty well what ugly face would look up at her when
she spoke; for she felt sure that the slouching, ungainly figure was
that of Simon Hartley. Her heart burned with indignation against the
graceless, thankless churl who could rob the man on whose charity he had
been living for two years. She made a step forward, with words of
righteous wrath on her lips; then paused, as a new thought struck her.
This man was an absolute ruffian; and though she believed him to be an
absolute coward also, still he must know that she and Dame Hartley were
alone in the house. He must know also that the farmer was at some
distance, else he would not have ventured to do this. What should she
do? she asked herself again. She looked round her, and her eyes fell
upon the old horse-pistol which rested on a couple of hooks over the
door. The farmer had taken it down only a day or two before, to show it
to her and tell her its story. It was not loaded, but Simon did not know
that. She stepped lightly up on a chair, and in a moment had taken the
pistol down. It was a formidable-looking weapon, and Hildegarde surveyed
it with much satisfaction as she turned once more to enter the kitchen.
Unloaded as it was, it gave her a feeling of entire confidence; and her
voice was quiet and steady as she said:
"Simon Hartley, what are you doing to your uncle's desk?"
The man started violently and turned round, his hands full of papers,
which he had taken from one of the drawers.


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