“Will you help me?” he asked. " "If you stir, I'll call him!" rejoined Winifred. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. Here we are. " His daughter, however, anticipated him. He was caressing an idea. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day.
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