Then my Lord Estes came elbowing me aside, and made no more of me than if I were a black slave, and hoarsely shouting for the sedan chairs and the bearers, and after him Ralph Drake and half a score of others, and all cursing at me for a convict tutor and thrusting at me.  Then truly that temper of mine, which I have had some cause to lament, and yet I know not if it be aught I can help, it being seemingly as beyond the say of my own will as the recoil of a musket or the rebound of a ball, sent me forth into the midst of that gallant throng, and I would not say for certain, but at this late date I am inclined to believe that I saw Ralph Drake, who came in my way with a storm of curses, raising himself sorely from a pool of mud, which must have worked havoc with his velvets, and my Lord Estes struggling forth from a thorny rose bush at the gate, with much rending of precious laces.  Then I, convict though I was, yet having, when authorised by the very conditions of my servitude, that resolution to have my way, that a king’s army could not have stopped me, had the sedan chairs, and the bearers to the fore, and presently we were set forth on the homeward road, I riding alongside.  All the road was white with moonlight, and when we came alongside Margery Key’s house, as I live, that white cat shot through the door, and immediately after, I, looking back, saw the old dame herself standing therein, though it was near morning, and she quavered forth a blessing after me.  “God bless thee, Master Wingfield, in life and death, and may the fish of the sea come to thy line, may the birds of the air minister to thee, and all that hath breath of life, whether it be noxious or guileless, do thy bidding.  May even He who is nameless stand from the path of thy desire, and hold back from thy face the boughs of prevention whither thou wouldst go.”  This said old Margery Key in a strange, chanting-like tone, and withdrew, and a light flashed out in the next house, and the woman who dwelt therein screamed, and Mistress Mary, thrusting forth her head from the chair, called me to come close.

As for Catherine, she was borne along as silently as though she slept, being, I doubt not, still exhausted with her swoon.  When I came close to Mistress Mary’s chair, forth came her little hand, shining with that preciousness of fairness beyond that of a pearl, and “Master Wingfield,” said she in a whisper, lest she disturb Catherine, “what, what, I pray thee, was it the witch-woman said?”

I laughed.  “She was calling down a blessing upon my head, Madam,” I said.

“A blessing and not a curse?”

“As I understood it, though I know not why she should have blessed me.”

“They say she is a white witch, and worketh good instead of harm, and yet—­” said Mistress Mary, and her voice trembled, showing her fear, and I could see the negroes rolling eyes of wide alarm at me, for they were much affected by all hints of deviltry.