insisted on playing with the others or pretended to go to sleep; and
twitted Patience with being a Puritan. However, the hopes of going
into Bristol might be an incentive, though she indulged in a grumble
to Rusha, and declared that she liked a jolly chaplain, and this old
doctor was not a bit better than a mere Puritan.

Rusha opened her big eyes. She never did understand Emlyn, and
perhaps that young maiden took delight in shocking her. They were
ordered off to bed much sooner than they approved on that fair summer
night, when the half-moon was high and the nightingales were singing
all round--not that they cared for that, but there was a sense about
them that something mysterious was going on, and Emlyn was wild with
curiosity and vexation at being kept out of it.

She would have kept watch and crept out; but that Patience came in,
and lay down, so close to the door that it was impossible to get out
without waking her, and besides if Emlyn did but stir, she asked what
was the matter.

"They mean something!" said Emlyn to herself, "and I'll know what it
is. They have no right to keep me out of the plot; I am not like
stupid little Rusha! I have been in a siege, and four battles,
besides skirmishes! I'll watch till they think I'm asleep, if I pull
all the hulls out of my bed! Then they will begin."

But nothing moved that Emlyn could hear or see. She woke and slept,
but was quite aware when Patience rose up after a brief doze, and
found the first streaks of dawn in the sky, a cuckoo calling as if
for very life in the nearest tree, and Steadfast quietly sweeping the
dew from the grass in a little open space shut in by rocks, trees,