"So you belong to Kenton of Venn's Valiants? It is well. A blessing
on your work!" said the stern dark-faced officer, and on he went,
happily not seeing Emlyn make an ugly face and clench her little fist
behind him.
"How can you, Stead?" she cried. "I'd rather be cursed than blessed
by such as he!"
Stead shook his head slowly. "A blessing is better than a curse any
way," said he, but his mind was a good deal confused between the
piety and good conduct of these Roundheads, in contrast with their
utter contempt of the Church, and rude dealing with all he had been
taught to hold sacred.
His harvest was, however, the matter in hand, and the little patch of
corn was cut and bound between him and his sisters, without further
interruption. The sounds of guns had ceased early in the day, and a
neighbour who had ventured down to the camp to offer some apples for
sale leant over the gate to wonder at the safety of the crop, "though
to be sure the soldiers were very civil, if they would let alone
preaching at you;" adding that there was like to be no more fighting,
for one of the gentlemen inside had ridden out with a white flag, and
it was said the Prince was talking of giving in.
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