ensconcing herself at the foot of the ash-tree, gazed up at
the windows of the blue chamber, and erected magnificent castles in the
air. Meanwhile, Clare, who had heard Rachel's list of things waiting to
be done, and had just finished setting the lace upon Jack's gown,
quietly possessed herself of a piece of fine lawn, measured off the
proper length, and was far advanced in one of Blanche's neglected ruffs
before that young lady sauntered in, when summoned by the
breakfast-bell.

The leech thought well of the young Spaniard's case. The broken arm was
not a severe fracture--"right easy to heal," said he in a rather
disappointed manner; the bruises were nothing but what would disappear
with time and one of Rachel's herbal lotions. In a few weeks, the young
man might expect to be fully recovered. And until that happened, said
Sir Thomas, he should remain at Enville Court.

But the other survivors of the shipwreck did not come off so easily. On
the day after it, one of the soldiers and one of the galley-slaves died.
The remaining galley-slave, a Moorish prisoner, very grave and silent,
and speaking little Spanish; the two sailors, of whom one was an
Italian; and one of the soldiers, were quartered in the glebe barn--the
rest in one of Sir Thomas Enville's barns. Two of the soldiers were
Pyrenees men, and spoke French. All of them, except the Moor and the
Italian, were possessed by abject terror, expecting to be immediately
killed, if not eaten. The Italian, who was no stranger to English
people, and into whose versatile mind nothing sank deep, was the only
blithe and cheerful man in the group. The Moor kept his feelings and
opinions to himself. But the others could utter nothing but
lamentations, "_Ay de mi_!" [alas for me] and "_Soy muerto_!"
[literally, "I am dead"--a common lamentation in Spain.] with mournful
vaticinations that their last hour was at hand, and that they would
never see Spain again. Sir Thomas Enville could just manage to make
himself understood by the Italian, and Mr Tremayne by the two
Pyreneans. No one else at Enville Court spoke any language but English.
But Mrs Rose, a Spanish lady's daughter, who had been accustomed to
speak Spanish for the first twenty years of her life; and Mrs Tremayne,
who had learned it from her; and Lysken Barnevelt, who had spoken it in
her childhood, and had kept herself in practice with Mrs Rose's help--
these three went in and out among the prisoners, interp