“That I cannot do, madam,” said I.

She gave me a look with those great black eyes of hers, and how it came to pass I never knew, but straight to the root of the whole she went as if my face had been an open book.

Such quickness of wit I had often heard ascribed to women, but never saw I aught like that, and I trow it seemed witchcraft. “’Tis something about the young tobacco plants,” quoth she.  “The king would not pass the measure to cease the planting, and the assembly of this spring broke up with no decision.  Major Beverly, who is clerk of the assembly, hath turned against the government since Bacon died, and all the burgesses are with him, and Governor Culpeper sails for England soon, and what, is the lieutenant-governor to hold the reins?  There is a plot hatching to cut down the young tobacco plants.”  I could but stare at her.  “There is a plot to cut down the young tobacco plants as soon as the governor hath sailed,” she said, “and my sister Mary hath sent to England for arms, knowing that the militia will arise and there will be fighting.”

I still stared at her, not knowing in truth what to say.  Then suddenly she caught at my hands with hers, and cried out with that energy that I saw all at once the fire of life beneath that fair show of maiden peace and calm of hers, “Harry, Harry Wingfield, if my grandmother, Madam Cavendish, knows this, my sister is undone; no pity will she have.  Straight to the governor will she go, though she hobble on crutches to Jamestown!  She would starve ere she would move against the will of the king and his representative, and so would I, but I will not have my little sister put to suffering and shame.  God save her, Harry Wingfield, but she might be thrown into prison, and worse—­I pray thee, save her, Harry!  Whatever ill you have done, and however slightingly I have held you for it, I pray you do this good deed by way of amends, and I will put the memory of your misdeeds behind me.”

Even then my bewilderment at her mention of my misdeeds, when I verily considered that she, as well as I, knew more of her own, was strong, but I grasped her two little hands hard, then relinquished them, and bowed and said, “Madam, I will save your sister at whatever cost.”

“And count it not?” said she.

“No more than I have done before, madam,” said I, and maybe with some little bitterness, for sometimes a woman by persistent goading, may almost raise herself to the fighting level of a man.

“But how?” said she.

“That I must study.”

“But I charge you to keep it from Madam Cavendish.”

“You need have no fear.”

“May God forgive me, but I told Madam Cavendish that the Golden Horn had not arrived,” said she, “but what have they done with the rest of the cargo, pray?”

I started.  I had, I confess, not given that a thought, though it was but reasonable that there was more beside those powder casks, if the revenue from the crops had been so small.