Glendenning. He muttered, âAnd then Mr. Cranford rescued you. Hmm. Do you remember nothing of your childhood before you were stolen?â
The youth considered, and said slowly, âI remember a big bed, and a dog, and a white pony. And a tall, very kind man, who told me stories at night. But ⦠I do not think he spoke to me in English, sir.â
âDo you know which language he did use?â
Florian shook his head. âBut I could read English. Not much at first, but Absalom helped me. He is such a fine man. When I ran away he let me borrow his donkey and cart, but the tribe said Iâd stolen them. Iâve got a horse of my own now, and I brought back Uncle Abâs donkey and cart.â His eyes flashed. âAs if Iâd steal from him !â
âNo, of course not. He would appear to have been a very good friend to both you and Amy. You said she would be safe with him. Safe from what? Did someone threaten her?â
âShe started to grow up,â said Florian simply. âAnd she was pretty. Absalom adopted her to keep them from selling her to a Flash House, but the chals âer, the young men, were always fighting over which one would buy her for his wife. She would have none of them, and she has her little knife, but Absalom was often away, and they gave her no peace. She caused much trouble, and by the law of the tribe, sooner or later she would have been forced to take one of them for her mate. So Absalom bought her out of the tribe and they came here to live.â
âThey live here?â Glendenning looked around at the stark chamber, the few pieces of rickety furniture, the single window high up in the cold rock wall. âGood God!â
The youth smiled mirthlessly. âThis is a fine place for such as us, sir. It is dry, and there is another room we use for a kitchen, and where Absalom sleeps when heâs here.â
ââTis a blasted ruin! It was the cellar of some old house, Iâll warrant.â
âYes. The main part of the house was on the hill. It burned down long ago, and was abandoned. Nobody comes here now because it is said to be haunted. But this cellar is partly below ground, and quite hidden away, and we built a fireplace, so itâs not too cold in winter.â
âAnd why are you here now? Did the Cranfords turn you off?â
âI hope not, milord. Amy can write.â He said it as though it rated a twenty-one gun salute, and, quite aware of the effort that must have gone into such an achievement, Glendenning said gravely that he thought that splendid. The youth beamed, and went on. âShe sent a letter saying that Absalom was ill, and she couldnât manage. So I had to come. He is better now, and will be off, and I must go back.â His teeth flashed in a white grin. âMr. Peregrine Cranford cannot go along without me, you see.â
Glendenning stared at him. âWhat dâyou mean? Where will Absalom be off to?â
âHeâll be off about his business,â growled Absalom, coming in the door holding a bulging sack. âAnd you need not be thinking as ye canââ
âWhatâs all this?â Following him in, Amy frowned. âYou shouldnât be up so soon, lordship! Florian, I told ye plainââ
âYou see?â said Florian, laughing. âGood-bye, milord. Good-bye Ab. Iâm away!â He seized Amy, gave her a quick kiss, and was gone.
âWait, ye young care-for-nobody!â Absalom thrust the sack at Amy, and hurried after Florian.
Amy eyed the viscount anxiously. âHow are you this morning? You must be fair daft toââ She faltered, and smoothed her windblown hair, her cheeks becoming pink. âWhy dâye stare at me so?â
Yesterday, after she had dressed the infected wound above his right ankle, he had been exhausted and had slept most of the rest of the day away. With the instinctive reaction heâd developed
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