"
This was a sort of assurance at that moment requisite to the poor girl;
and such, indeed, was the interest which Mrs. Margaret felt in
ascertaining if this really were the woman who had brought Tamar to
Shanty's, that she put on her hood and cloak, and having filled a basket
from the larder, she locked the cottage door, and went with Tamar to
the Tower. It was barely light when they crossed the moat, for the
bridge was not drawn; and when they entered the inner-court, they found
many of the peasants seated in a circle, dipping portions of the loaf in
Brindle's pail.
"Welcome! welcome! to your own place, Mrs. Margaret Dymock!" said one of
them, "and here," he added, dipping a cup into the pail, "I drink to the
restoration of the rightful heir and the good old family, and to your
house-keeping, Mrs. Margaret; for things are done now in another style
to what they were in your time."
A general shout seconded this sentiment, and Mrs. Margaret, curtseying,
and then pluming herself, answered, "I thank you, my friends, and
flatter myself, that had my power been equal to my will, no hungry
person should ever have departed from Dymock's Tower."
The ladies were then obliged to stand and hear the whole history of the
night's exploit,--told almost in as many ways as there were tongues to
tell it; and whilst these relations were going forward, the sun had
fairly risen above the horizon, and was gilding the jagged battlements
of the Tower.
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