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"That we will do, Clara," replied Patience; "so get your needles and thread, and let us send him to London with whole linen. We will come when we are ready, Sir."
"I don't like his going to London at all," said Clara, "we shall be so lonely when he is gone."
Edward had left the room, and having obtained the saddle-bags from Phœbe, had gone up to his chamber. The first thing that he laid hold of was his father's sword; he took it down, and having wiped it carefully, he kissed it, saying, "God grant that I may do credit to it, and prove as worthy to wield it as was my brave father!" He had uttered these words aloud; and again taking the sword, and laying it down on the bed, turned round, and perceived that Patience had, unknown to him, entered the room, and was standing close to him. Edward was not conscious that he had spoken aloud, and therefore merely said, "I was not aware of your presence, Patience. Your foot is so light."
"Whose sword is that, Edward?"
"It is mine; I bought it at Lymington."
"But what makes you have such an affection for that sword?"
"Affection for it?"
"Yes; as I came into the room, you kissed it as fervently as—"
"As a lover would his mistress, I presume you would say," replied Edward.
"Nay, I meant not to use such vain words. I was about to say, as a Catholic would a relic. I ask you again, Why so? A sword is but a sword. You are about to leave this on a mission of my father's. You are not a soldier, about to engage in strife and war; if you were, why kiss your sword?"
"I will tell you. I do love this sword. I purchased it, as I told you, at Lymington, and they told me that it belonged to Colonel Beverley. It is for his sake that I love it. You know what obligations our family were under to him."
