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diff --git a/22942.txt b/22942.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35d41cb --- /dev/null +++ b/22942.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11375 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clare Avery, by Emily Sarah Holt + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Clare Avery + A Story of the Spanish Armada + +Author: Emily Sarah Holt + +Release Date: October 11, 2007 [EBook #22942] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARE AVERY *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +Clare Avery, by Emily Sarah Holt. +________________________________________________________________________ +This book, one of Emily Holt's many historical novels, is set in the +reign of Elizabeth, around the time of the Armada, which has a chapter +to itself. The story revolves round a moderately well-off family, who +really did exist, many details of the family being given in the last +chapter, or Appendix. In order to make the story realistic there are a +number of fictitious persons, but there is always a note to that effect +when the person first appears. In general these fictitious persons are +no more than minor characters. + +There is an interesting passage in which Jack, one of the youths of the +family, obtains a place at Court, but finds he needs to spend enormous +amounts on apparel to keep up with the other young men he meets. By no +means does the family have the resources to pay his trade-debts, and it +turns out that his gambling debts, known as "debts of honour" are even +greater. They had to tell him to go away and sort it out for himself. + +But it must be said that a great deal of the book is taken up with +religious discussions, mostly centring on the perceived imperfections +of the Papist religion, as opposed to the Protestant. If you are not +interested in this it does tend to make the going a bit heavy at times. +But if you are interested, well then, it makes good reading. + +As ever with this author there are many words and phrases used which +are now outdated. When they first appear a note of the current meaning +is given, for instance "popinjay [parrot]". On the whole this is not +confusing except where a word has changed or even reversed its meaning. +We do not recommend learning by heart from a sort of vocab list, the +words in use in Elizabethan times, unless you are studying that +period in depth. +________________________________________________________________________ +CLARE AVERY, BY EMILY SARAH HOLT. + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +LITTLE CLARE'S FIRST HOME. + + "The mossy marbles rest + On the lips he hath pressed + In their bloom, + And the names he loved to hear + Have been carved for many a year + On the tomb." + + _Oliver Wendell Holmes_. + +"Cold!" said the carrier, blowing on his fingers to keep them warm. + +"Cold, bully Penmore!" ejaculated Hal Dockett,--farrier, horse-leech, +and cow-doctor in ordinary to the town of Bodmin and its +neighbourhood... "Lack-a-daisy! thou that hast been carrier these +thirty years, and thy father afore thee, and his father afore him, ever +sith `old Dick Boar' days, shouldst be as hard as a milestone by this +time. 'Tis the end of March, fellow!" + +Be it known that "old Dick Boar" was Mr Dockett's extremely irreverent +style of allusion to His Majesty King Richard the Third. + +"'Tis the end of as bitter a March as hath been in Cornwall these +hundred years," said the carrier. "Whither away now, lad?" + +"Truly, unto Bradmond, whither I am bidden to see unto the black cow." + +"Is it sooth, lad, that the master is failing yonder?" + +"Folk saith so," replied Hal, his jocund face clouding over. "It shall +be an evil day for Bodmin, _that_!" + +"Ay so!" echoed the carrier. "Well! we must all be laid in earth one +day. God be wi' thee, lad!" + +And with a crack of his whip, the waggon lumbered slowly forward upon +the Truro road, while Dockett went on his way towards a house standing a +little distance on the left, in a few acres of garden, with a paddock +behind. + +About the cold there was no question. The ground, which had been white +with snow for many days, was now a mixture of black and white, under the +influence of a thaw; while a bitterly cold wind, which made everybody +shiver, rose now and then to a wild whirl, slammed the doors, and +groaned through the wood-work. A fragment of cloud, rather less dim and +gloomy than the rest of the heavy grey sky, was as much as could be seen +of the sun. + +Nor was the political atmosphere much more cheerful than the physical. +All over England,--and it might be said, all over Europe,--men's hearts +were failing them for fear,--by no means for the first time in that +century. In Holland the Spaniards, vanquished not by men, but by winds +and waves from God, had abandoned the siege of Leyden; and the +sovereignty of the Netherlands had been offered to Elizabeth of England, +but after some consideration was refused. In France, the Massacre of +Saint Bartholomew, nearly three years before, had been followed by the +siege of La Rochelle, the death of the miserable Charles the Ninth, and +the alliance in favour of Popery, which styled itself the Holy League. +At home, gardeners were busy introducing the wallflower, the hollyhock, +basil, and sweet marjoram; the first licence for public plays was +granted to Burbage and his company, among whom was a young man from +Warwickshire, a butcher's son, with a turn for making verses, whose name +was William Shakspere; the Queen had issued a decree forbidding costly +apparel (not including her own); and the last trace of feudal serfdom +had just disappeared, by the abolition of "villenage" upon the Crown +manors. As concerned other countries, except when active hostilities +were going on, Englishmen were not generally much interested, unless it +were in that far-off New World which Columbus had discovered not a +hundred years before,--or in that unknown land, far away also, beyond +the white North Cape, whither adventurers every now and then set out +with the hope of discovering a north-west passage to China,--the +north-west passage which, though sought now with a different object, no +one has discovered yet. + +It may be as well to recall the state of knowledge in English society at +this period. The time had gone by when the burning of coal was +prohibited, as prejudicial to health; but the limits of London, beyond +which building might not extend, were soon after this fixed at three +miles from the city gates; the introduction of private carriages was +long opposed, lest it should lead to luxury; [Note 1] and sumptuary +laws, regulating, according to rank, the materials for dress and the +details of trimmings, were issued every few years. Needles were +treasures beyond reach of the poor; yeast, starch, glass bottles, woven +stockings, fans, muffs, tulips, marigolds,--had all been invented or +introduced within thirty years: the peach and the potato were alike +luxuries known to few: forks, sedan or Bath chairs, coffee, tea, gas, +telescopes, newspapers, shawls, muslin,--not to include railways and +telegraphs,--were ideas that had not yet occurred to any one. Nobody +had ever heard of the circulation of the blood. A doctor was a _rara +avis_: medical advice was mainly given in the towns by apothecaries, and +in the country by herbalists and "wise women." There were no +Dissenters--except the few who remained Romanists; and perhaps there +were not likely to be many, when the fine for non-attendance at the +parish church was twenty pounds per month. Parochial relief was +unknown, and any old woman obnoxious to her neighbours was likely to be +drowned as a witch. Lastly, by the Bull of excommunication of Pope Pius +the Fifth, issued in April, 1569, Queen Elizabeth had been solemnly "cut +off from the unity of Christ's Body," and "deprived of her pretended +right to the Crown of England," while all who obeyed or upheld her were +placed under a terrible curse. [Note 2.] + +Nineteen years had passed since that triumphant 17th of November which +had seen all England in a frenzy of joy on the accession of Elizabeth +Tudor. They were at most very young men and women who could not +remember the terrible days of Mary, and the glad welcome given to her +sister. Still warm at the heart of England lay the memory of the Marian +martyrs; still deep and strong in her was hatred of every shadow of +Popery. The petition had not yet been erased from the Litany--why +should it ever have been?--"From the Bishop of Rome and all his +enormities, good Lord, deliver us!" + +On the particular afternoon whereon the story opens, one of the +dreariest points of the landscape was the house towards which Hal +Dockett's steps were bent. It was of moderate size, and might have been +very comfortable if somebody had taken pains to make it so. But it +looked as if the pains had not been taken. Half the windows were +covered by shutters; the wainscot was sadly in want of a fresh coat of +paint; the woodbine, which should have been trained up beside the porch, +hung wearily down, as if it were tired of trying to climb when nobody +helped it; the very ivy was ragged and dusty. The doors shut with that +hollow sound peculiar to empty uncurtained rooms, and groaned, as they +opened, over the scarcity of oil. And if the spectator had passed +inside, he would have seen that out of the whole house, only four rooms +were inhabited beside the kitchen and its dependencies. In all the +rest, the dusty furniture was falling to pieces from long neglect, and +the spiders carried on their factories at their own pleasure. + +One of these four rooms, a long, narrow chamber, on the upper floor, +gave signs of having been inhabited very recently. On the square table +lay a quantity of coarse needlework, which somebody seemed to have +bundled together and left hastily; and on one of the hard, +straight-backed chairs was a sorely-disabled wooden doll, of the +earliest Dutch order, with mere rudiments, of arms and legs, and +deprived by accidents of a great portion of these. The needlework said +plainly that there must be a woman in the dreary house, and the doll, +staring at the ceiling with black expressionless eyes, spoke as +distinctly for the existence of a child. + +Suddenly the door of this room opened with a plaintive creak, and a +little woman, on the elderly side of middle life, put in her head. + +A bright, energetic, active little woman she seemed,--not the sort of +person who might be expected to put up meekly with dim windows and dusty +floors. + +"Marry La'kin!" [a corruption of "Mary, little Lady!"] she said aloud. +"Of a truth, what a charge be these childre!" + +The cause of this remark was hardly apparent, since no child was to be +seen; but the little woman came further into the room, her gestures soon +showing that she was looking for a child who ought to have been visible. + +"Well! I've searched every chamber in this house save the Master's +closet. Where can yon little popinjay [parrot] have hid her? Marry +La'kin!" + +This expletive was certainly not appreciated by her who used it. +Nothing could much more have astonished or shocked Barbara Polwhele [a +fictitious person]--than whom no more uncompromising Protestant breathed +between John o' Groat's and the Land's End--than to discover that since +she came into the room, she had twice invoked the assistance of Saint +Mary the Virgin. + +Barbara's search soon brought her to the conclusion that the child she +sought was not in that quarter. She shut the door, and came out into a +narrow gallery, from one side of which a wooden staircase ran down into +the hall. It was a wide hall of vaulted stone, hung with faded +tapestry, old and wanting repair, like everything else in its vicinity. +Across the hall Barbara trotted with short, quick steps, and opening a +door at the further end, went into the one pleasant room in all the +house. This was a very small turret-chamber, hexagonal in shape, three +of its six sides being filled with a large bay-window, in the middle +compartment of which were several coats of arms in stained glass. A +table, which groaned under a mass of books and papers, nearly filled the +room; and writing at it sat a venerable-looking, white-haired man, who, +seeing Barbara, laid down his pen, wiped his spectacles, and placidly +inquired what she wanted. He will be an old friend to some readers: for +he was John Avery of Bradmond. + +"Master, an't like you, have you seen Mrs Clare of late?" + +"How late, Barbara?" + +"Marry, not the fourth part of an hour gone, I left the child in the +nursery a-playing with her puppet, when I went down to let in Hal +Dockett, and carry him to see what ailed the black cow; and now I be +back, no sign of the child is any whither. I have been in every +chamber, and looked in the nursery thrice." + +"Where should she be?" quietly demanded Mr Avery. + +"Marry, where but in the nursery, without you had fetched her away." + +"And where should she not be?" + +"Why, any other whither but here and there,--more specially in the +garden." + +"Nay, then, reach me my staff, Barbara, and we will go look in the +garden. If that be whither our little maid should specially not be, +'tis there we be bound to find her." + +"Marry, but that is sooth!" said Barbara heartily, bringing the +walking-stick. "Never in all my life saw I child that gat into more +mischievousness, nor gave more trouble to them that had her in charge." + +"Thy memory is something short, Barbara," returned her master with a dry +smile, "'Tis but little over a score of years sithence thou wert used to +say the very same of her father." + +"Eh, Master!--nay, not Master Walter!" said Barbara, deprecatingly. + +"Well, trouble and sorrow be ever biggest in the present tense," +answered he. "And I wot well thou hast a great charge on thine hands." + +"I reckon you should think so, an' you had the doing of it," said +Barbara complacently. "Up ere the lark, and abed after the nightingale! +What with scouring, and washing, and dressing meat, and making the +beds, and baking, and brewing, and sewing, and mending, and Mrs Clare +and you atop of it all--" + +"Nay, prithee, let me drop off the top, so thou lame me not, for the +rest is enough for one woman's shoulders." + +"In good sooth, Master, but you lack as much looking after, in your way, +as Mrs Clare doth; for verily your head is so lapped in your books and +your learning, that I do think, an' I tended you not, you should break +your fast toward eventide, and bethink you but to-morrow at noon that +you had not supped overnight." + +"Very like, Barbara,--very like!" answered the old man with a meek +smile. "Thou hast been a right true maid unto me and mine,--as saith +Solomon of the wise woman, thou hast done us good and not evil, all the +days of thy life. The Lord apay thee for it!--Now go thou forward, and +search for our little maid, and I will abide hither until thou bring +her. If I mistake not much, thou shalt find her within a stone's throw +of the fishpond." + +"The fishpond?--eh, Master!" + +And Barbara quickened her steps to a run, while John Avery sat down +slowly upon a stone seat on the terrace, leaning both hands on his +staff, as if he could go no farther. Was he very tired? No. He was +only very, very near Home. + +Close to the fishpond, peering intently into it between the gaps of the +stone balustrade, Barbara at length found what she sought, in the shape +of a little girl of six years old. The child was spoiling her frock to +the best of her ability, by lying on the snow-sprinkled grass; but she +was so intent upon something which she saw, or wanted to see, that her +captor's approach was unheard, and Barbara pounced on her in triumph +without any attempt at flight. + +"Now, Mrs Clare, [a fictitious character] come you hither with me!" +said Barbara, seizing the culprit. "Is this to be a good child, think +you, when you were bidden abide in the nursery?" + +"O Bab!" said the child, half sobbingly. "I wanted to see the fishes." + +"You have seen enough of the fishes for one morrow," returned Barbara +relentlessly; "and if the fishes could see you, they should cry shame +upon you for ruinating of your raiment by the damp grass." + +"But the fishes be damp, Bab!" remonstrated Clare. Barbara professed +not to hear the last remark, and lifting the small student of natural +history, bore her, pouting and reluctant, to her grandfather on the +terrace. + +"So here comes my little maid," said he, pleasantly. "Why didst not +abide in the nursery, as thou wert bid, little Clare?" + +"I wanted to see the fishes," returned Clare, still pouting. + +"We cannot alway have what we want," answered he. + +"You can!" objected Clare. + +"Nay, my child, I cannot," gravely replied her grandfather. "An' I +could, I would have alway a good, obedient little grand-daughter." + +Clare played with Mr Avery's stick, and was silent. + +"Leave her with me, good Barbara, and go look after thy mighty charges," +said her master, smiling. "I will bring her within ere long." + +Barbara trotted off, and Clare, relieved from the fear of her duenna, +went back to her previous subject. + +"Gaffer, what do the fishes?" + +"What do they? Why, swim about in the water, and shake their tails, and +catch flies for their dinner." + +"What think they on, Gaffer?" + +"Nay, thou art beyond me there. I never was a fish. How can I tell +thee?" + +"Would they bite me?" demanded Clare solemnly. + +"Nay, I reckon not." + +"What, not a wild fish?" said Clare, opening her dark blue eyes. + +Mr Avery laughed, and shook his head. + +"But I would fain know--And, O Gaffer!" exclaimed the child, suddenly +interrupting herself, "do tell me, why did Tom kill the pig?" + +"Kill the pig? Why, for that my Clare should have somewhat to eat at +her dinner and her supper." + +"Killed him to eat him?" wonderingly asked Clare, who had never +associated live pigs with roast pork. + +"For sure," replied her grandfather. + +"Then he had not done somewhat naughty?" + +"Nay, not he." + +"I would, Gaffer," said Clare, very gravely, "that Tom had not smothered +the pig ere he began to lay eggs. [The genuine speech of a child of +Clare's age.] I would so have liked a _little_ pig!" + +The suggestion of pig's eggs was too much for Mr Avery's gravity. "And +what hadst done with a little pig, my maid." + +"I would have washed it, and donned it, and put it abed," said Clare. + +"Methinks he should soon have marred his raiment. And maybe he should +have loved cold water not more dearly than a certain little maid that I +could put a name to." + +Clare adroitly turned from this perilous topic, with an unreasoning +dread of being washed there and then; though in truth it was not +cleanliness to which she objected, but wet chills and rough friction. + +"Gaffer, may I go with Bab to four-hours unto Mistress Pendexter?" + +"An' thou wilt, my little floweret." + +Mr Avery rose slowly, and taking Clare by the hand, went back to the +house. He returned to his turret-study, but Clare scampered upstairs, +possessed herself of her doll, and ran in and out of the inhabited rooms +until she discovered Barbara in the kitchen, beating up eggs for a +pudding. + +"Bab, I may go with thee!" + +"Go with me?" repeated Barbara, looking up with some surprise. "Marry, +Mrs Clare, I hope you may." + +"To Mistress Pendexter!" shouted Clare ecstatically. + +"Oh ay!" assented Barbara. "Saith the master so?" + +Clare nodded. "And, Bab, shall I take Doll?" + +This contraction for Dorothy must have been the favourite name with the +little ladies of the time for the plaything on which it is now +inalienably fixed. + +"I will sew up yon hole in her gown, then, first," said Barbara, taking +the doll by its head in what Clare thought a very disrespectful manner. +"Mrs Clare, this little gown is cruel ragged; if I could but see time, +I had need make you another." + +"Oh, do, Bab!" cried Clare in high delight. + +"Well, some day," replied Barbara discreetly. + +A few hours later, Barbara and Clare were standing at the door of a +small, neat cottage in a country lane, where dwelt Barbara's sister, +Marian Pendexter, [a fictitious person] widow of the village +schoolmaster. The door was opened by Marian herself, a woman some five +years the senior of her sister, to whom she bore a good deal of +likeness, but Marian was the quieter mannered and the more silent of the +two. + +"Marry, little Mistress Clare!" was her smiling welcome. "Come in, +prithee, little Mistress, and thou shalt have a buttered cake to thy +four-hours. Give thee good even, Bab." + +A snowy white cloth covered the little round table in the cottage, and +on it were laid a loaf of bread a piece of butter, and a jug of milk. +In honour of her guests, Marian went to her cupboard, and brought out a +mould of damson cheese, a bowl of syllabub, and a round tea-cake, which +she set before the fire to toast. + +"And how fareth good Master Avery?" asked Marian, as she closed the +cupboard door, and came back. + +Barbara shook her head ominously. + +"But ill, forsooth?" pursued her sister. + +"Marry, an' you ask at him, he is alway well; but--I carry mine eyes, +Marian." + +Barbara's theory of educating children was to keep them entirely +ignorant of the affairs of their elders. To secure this end, she +adopted a vague, misty style of language, of which she fondly imagined +that Clare did not understand a word. The result was unfortunate, as it +usually is. Clare understood detached bits of her nurse's conversation, +over which she brooded silently in her own little mind, until she +evolved a whole story--a long way off the truth. It would have done +much less harm to tell her the whole truth at once; for the fact of a +mystery being made provoked her curiosity, and her imaginations were far +more extreme than the facts. + +"Ah, he feeleth the lack of my mistress his wife, I reckon," said Marian +pityingly. "She must be soothly a sad miss every whither." + +"Thou mayest well say so," assented Barbara. "Dear heart! 'tis nigh +upon five good years now, and I have not grown used to the lack of her +even yet. Thou seest, moreover, he hath had sorrow upon sorrow. 'Twas +but the year afore that Master Walter [a fictitious person] and Mistress +Frances did depart [die]; and then, two years gone, Mistress Kate, [a +fictitious person]. Ah, well-a-day! we be all mortal." + +"Thank we God therefore, good Bab," said Marian quietly. "For we shall +see them again the sooner. But if so be, Bab, that aught befel the +Master, what should come of yonder rosebud?" + +And Marian cast a significant look at Clare, who sat apparently +engrossed with a mug full of syllabub. + +"Humph! an' I had the reins, I had driven my nag down another road," +returned Barbara. "Who but Master Robin [a fictitious person] and +Mistress Thekla [a fictitious person] were meetest, trow? But lo! you! +what doth Mistress Walter but indite a letter unto the Master, to note +that whereas she hath never set eyes on the jewel--and whose fault was +that, prithee?--so, an' it liked Him above to do the thing thou wottest, +she must needs have the floweret sent thither. And a cruel deal of fair +words, how she loved and pined to see her, and more foolery belike. +Marry La'kin! ere I had given her her will, I had seen her alongside of +King Pharaoh at bottom o' the Red Sea. But the Master, what did he, but +write back and say that it should be even as she would. Happy woman be +her dole, say I!" + +And Barbara set down the milk-jug with a rough determinate air that must +have hurt its feelings, had it possessed any. + +"Mistress Walter! that is, the Lady--" [Note 3.] + +"Ay--she," said Barbara hastily, before the name could follow. + +"Well, Bab, after all, methinks 'tis but like she should ask it. And if +Master Robin be parson of that very same parish wherein she dwelleth, of +a surety ye could never send the little one to him, away from her own +mother?" + +"Poor little soul! she is well mothered!" said Barbara ironically. +"Never to set eyes on the child for six long years; and then, when +Mistress Avery, dear heart! writ unto her how sweet and _debonnaire_ +[pretty, pleasing] the lily-bud grew, to mewl forth that it was so great +a way, and her health so pitiful, that she must needs endure to bereave +her of the happiness to come and see the same. Marry La'kin! call yon a +mother!" + +"But it is a great way, Bab." + +"Wherefore went she so far off, then?" returned Barbara quickly enough. +"And lo! you! she can journey thence all the way to York or Chester when +she would get her the new fashions,--over land, too!--yet cannot she +take boat to Bideford, which were less travail by half. An' yonder +jewel had been mine, Marian, I would not have left it lie in the case +for six years, trow!" + +"Maybe not, Bab," answered Marian in her quiet way. "Yet 'tis ill +judging of our neighbour. And if the lady's health be in very deed so +pitiful--" + +"Neighbour! she is no neighbour of mine, dwelling up by Marton Moss!" +interrupted Barbara, as satirically as before. "And in regard to her +pitiful health--why, Marian, I have dwelt in the same house with her for +a year and a half, and I never knew yet her evil health let [hinder] her +from a junketing. Good lack! it stood alway in the road when somewhat +was in hand the which misliked her. Go to church in the rain,--nay, by +'r Lady!--and 'twas too cold in the winter to help string the apples, +and too hot in the summer to help conserve the fruits: to be sure! But +let there be an even's revelling at Sir Christopher Marres his house, +and she bidden,--why, it might rain enough to drench you, but her cloak +was thick then, and her boots were strong enough, and her cough was not +to any hurt--bless her!" + +The tone of Barbara's exclamation somewhat belied the words. + +"Have a care, Bab, lest--" and Marian's glance at Clare explained her +meaning. + +"Not she!" returned Barbara, looking in her turn at the child, whose +attention was apparently concentrated on one of Marian's kittens, which +she was stroking on her lap, while the mother cat walked uneasily round +and round her chair. "I have alway a care to speak above yon head." + +"Is there not a little sister?" asked Marian in a low tone. + +"Ay," said Barbara, dropping her voice. "Blanche, the babe's name is [a +fictitious character.] Like Mrs Walter--never content with plain Nell +and Nan. Her childre must have names like so many queens. And I dare +say the maid shall be bred up like one." + +The conversation gradually passed to other topics, and the subject was +not again touched upon by either sister. + +How much of it had Clare heard, and how much of that did she understand? + +A good deal more of either than Barbara imagined. She knew that Walter +had been her father's name, and she was well aware that "Mistress +Walter" from Barbara's lips, indicated her mother. She knew that her +mother had married again, and that she lived a long way off. She knew +also that this mother of hers was no favourite with Barbara. And from +this conversation she gathered, that in the event of something +happening--but what that was she did not realise--she was to go and live +with her mother. Clare was an imaginative child, and the topic of all +her dreams was this mysterious mother whom she had never seen. Many a +time, when Barbara only saw that she was quietly dressing or hushing her +doll, Clare's mind was at work, puzzling over the incomprehensible +reason of Barbara's evident dislike to her absent mother. What shocking +thing could she have done, thought Clare, to make Bab angry with her? +Had she poisoned her sister, or drowned the cat, or stolen the big crown +off the Queen's head? For the romance of a little child is always +incongruous and sensational. + +In truth, there was nothing sensational, and little that was not +commonplace, about the character and history of little Clare's mother, +whose maiden name was Orige Williams. She had been the spoilt child of +a wealthy old Cornish gentleman,--the pretty pet on whom he lavished all +his love and bounty, never crossing her will from the cradle. And she +repaid him, as children thus trained often do, by crossing his will in +the only matter concerning which he much cared. He had set his heart on +her marrying a rich knight whose estate lay contiguous to his own: while +she, entirely self-centred, chose to make a runaway match with young +Lieutenant Avery, whose whole year's income was about equal to one week +of her father's rent-roll. Bitterly disappointed, Mr Williams declared +that "As she had made her bed, so she should lie on it;" for not one +penny would he ever bestow on her while he lived, and he would bequeath +the bulk of his property to his nephew. In consequence of this threat, +which reached, her ears, Orige, romantic and high-flown, fancied herself +at once a heroine and a martyr, when there was not in her the capacity +for either. In the sort of language in which she delighted, she spoke +of herself as a friendless orphan, a sacrifice to love, truth, and +honour. It never seemed to occur to her that in deceiving her father-- +for she had led him to believe until the last moment that she intended +to conform to his wishes--she had acted both untruthfully and +dishonourably; while as to love, she was callous to every shape of it +except love of self. + +For about eighteen months Walter and Orige Avery lived at Bradmond, +during which time Clare was born. She was only a few weeks old when the +summons came for her father to rejoin his ship. He had been gone two +months, when news reached Bradmond of a naval skirmish with the +Spaniards off the Scilly Isles, in which great havoc had been made among +the Queen's forces, and in the list of the dead was Lieutenant Walter +Avery. + +Now Orige's romance took a new turn. She pictured herself as a widowed +nightingale, love-lorn and desolate, leaning her bleeding breast upon a +thorn, and moaning forth her melancholy lay. As others have done since, +she fancied herself poetical when she was only silly. And Barbara took +grim notice that her handkerchief was perpetually going up to tearless +eyes, and that she was not a whit less particular than usual to know +what there was for supper. + +For six whole months this state of things lasted. Orige arrayed herself +in the deepest sables; she spoke of herself as a wretched widow who +could never taste hope again; and of her baby as a poor hapless orphan, +as yet unwitting of its misery. She declined to see any visitors, and +persisted in being miserable and disconsolate, and in taking lonely +walks to brood over her wretchedness. And at the end of that time she +electrified her husband's family--all but one--by the announcement that +she was about to marry again. Not for love this time, of course; no, +indeed!--but she thought it was her duty. Sir Thomas Enville--a widower +with three children--had been very kind; and he would make such a good +father for Clare. He had a beautiful estate in the North. It would be +a thousand pities to let the opportunity slip. Once for all, she +thought it her duty; and she begged that no one would worry her with +opposition, as everything was already settled. + +Kate Avery, Walter's elder and only surviving sister, was exceedingly +indignant. Her gentle, unsuspicious mother was astonished and puzzled. +But Mr Avery, after a momentary look of surprise, only smiled. + +"Nay, but this passeth!" [surpasses belief] cried Kate. + +"Even as I looked for it," quietly said her father. "I did but think it +should maybe have been somewhat later of coming." + +"Her duty!" broke out indignant Kate. "Her duty to whom?" + +"To herself, I take it," said he. "To Clare, as she counteth. Methinks +she is one of those deceivers that do begin with deceiving of +themselves." + +"To Clare!" repeated Kate. "But, Father, she riddeth her of Clare. The +babe is to 'bide here until such time as it may please my good Lady to +send for her." + +"So much the better for Clare," quietly returned Mr Avery. + +And thus it happened that Clare was six years old, and her mother was +still an utter stranger to her. + +The family at Bradmond, however, were not without tidings of Lady +Enville. It so happened that Mr Avery's adopted son, Robert Tremayne, +was Rector of the very parish in which Sir Thomas Enville lived; and a +close correspondence--for Elizabethan days--was kept up between Bradmond +and the Rectory. In this manner they came to know, as time went on, +that Clare had a little sister, whose name was Blanche; that Lady +Enville was apparently quite happy; that Sir Thomas was very kind to +her, after his fashion, though that was not the devoted fashion of +Walter Avery. Sir Thomas liked to adorn his pretty plaything with fine +dresses and rich jewellery; he surrounded her with every comfort; he +allowed her to go to every party within ten miles, and to spend as much +money as she pleased. And this was precisely Orige's beau ideal of +happiness. Her small cup seemed full--but evidently Clare was no +necessary ingredient in the compound. + +If any one had taken the trouble to weigh, sort, and label the +prejudices of Barbara Polwhele, it would have been found that the +heaviest of all had for its object "Papistry,"--the second, dirt,--and +the third, "Mistress Walter." Lieutenant Avery had been Barbara's +darling from his cradle, and she considered that his widow had outraged +his memory, by marrying again so short a time after his death. For +this, above all her other provocations, Barbara never heartily forgave +her. And a great struggle it was to her to keep her own feelings as +much as possible in the background, from the conscientious motive that +she ought not to instil into Clare's baby mind the faintest feeling of +aversion towards her mother. The idea of the child being permanently +sent to Enville Court was intensely distasteful to her. Yet wherever +Clare went, Barbara must go also. + +She had promised Mrs Avery, Clare's grandmother, on her dying bed, +never to leave the child by her own free will so long as her childhood +lasted, and rather than break her word, she would have gone to Siberia-- +or to Enville Court. In Barbara's eyes, there would have been very +little choice between the two places. Enville Court lay on the +sea-coast, and Barbara abhorred the sea, on which her only brother and +Walter Avery had died: it was in Lancashire, which she looked upon as a +den of witches, and an arid desert bare of all the comforts of life; it +was a long way from any large town, and Barbara had been used to live +within an easy walk of one; she felt, in short, as though she were being +sent into banishment. + +And there was no help for it. Within the last few weeks, a letter had +come from Lady Enville,--not very considerately worded--requesting that +if what she had heard was true, that Mr Avery's health was feeble, and +he was not likely to live long--in the event of his death, Clare should +be sent to her. + +In fact, there was nowhere else to send her. Walter's two sisters, Kate +and Frances, were both dead,--Kate unmarried, Frances van Barnevelt +leaving a daughter, but far away in Holland. The only other person who +could reasonably have claimed the child was Mr Tremayne; and with what +show of justice could he do so, when his house lay only a stone's throw +from the park gates of Enville Court? Fate seemed to determine that +Clare should go to her mother. But while John Avery lived, there was to +be a respite. + +It was a respite shorter than any one anticipated--except, perhaps, the +old man himself. There came an evening three weeks after these events, +when Barbara noticed that her master, contrary to his usual custom, +instead of returning to his turret-chamber after supper, sat still by +the hall fire, shading his eyes from the lamp, and almost entirely +silent. When Clare's bed-time came, and she lifted her little face for +a good-night kiss, John Avery, after giving it, laid his hands upon her +head and blessed her. + +"The God that fed me all my life long, the Angel that redeemed me from +all evil, bless the maid! The peace of God, which passeth all +understanding, keep thy heart and mind, through Jesus Christ our Lord; +and the blessing of God Almighty,--the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost--be upon thee, and remain with thee always!" + +So he "let her depart with this blessing." Let her depart--to walk the +thorny path of which he had reached the end, to climb the painful steeps +of which he stood at the summit, to labour along the weary road which he +would tread no more. Let her depart! The God who had fed him had manna +in store for her,--the Angel who had redeemed him was strong, enough, +and tender enough, to carry this lamb in His bosom. + +Barbara noted that his step was slower even than had been usual with him +of late. It struck her, too, that his hair was whiter than she had ever +noticed it before. + +"Be you aweary this even, Master?" + +"Something, good maid," he answered with a smile. "Even as a traveller +may well be that hath but another furlong of his journey." + +Another furlong! Was it more than another step? Barbara went upstairs +with him, to relieve him of the light burden of the candle. + +"Good night, Master! Metrusteth your sleep shall give you good +refreshing." + +"Good night, my maid," said he. "I wish thee the like. There shall be +good rest up yonder." + +Her eyes filled with tears as she turned away. Was it selfish that her +wish was half a prayer,--that he might be kept a little longer from +_that_ rest? + +She waited longer than usual before she tapped at his door the next +morning. It was seven o'clock--a very late hour for rising in the +sixteenth century--when, receiving no answer, Barbara went softly into +the room and unfastened the shutters as quietly as she could. No need +for the care and the silence! There was good rest up yonder. + +The shutters were drawn back, and the April sunlight streamed brightly +in upon a still, dead face. + +Deep indeed was the mourning: but it was for themselves, not for him. +He was safe in the Golden Land, with his children and his Isoult--all +gone before him to that good rest. What cause could there be for grief +that the battle was won, and that the tired soldier had laid aside his +armour? + +But there was need enough for grief as concerned the two survivors,--for +Barbara and little Clare, left alone in the cold, wide world, with +nothing before them but a mournful and wearisome journey, and Enville +Court the dreaded end of it. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. So lately as 1601, an Act of Parliament forbade men to ride in +coaches, as an effeminate practice. + +Note 2. This was "His Holiness' sentence," of which the Armada was "in +execution." See note, p. + +Note 3. The names, and date of marriage, of Walter Avery and Orige +Williams, are taken from the Bodmin Register. In every other respect +they are fictitious characters. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +ON THE BORDER OF MARTON MERE. + + "Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way + Thorny, and bitter, and cold, and grey." + + _Miss Muloch_. + +It was drawing towards the dusk of a bright day early in May. The +landscape was not attractive, at least to a tired traveller. It was a +dreary waste of sandhills, diversified by patches of rough grass, and a +few stunted bushes, all leaning away from the sea, as though they wanted +to get as far from it as their small opportunities allowed; on one side +foamed the said grey-green expanse of sea; on the other lay a little +lakelet, shining in the setting sun: in front, at some distance, a +rivulet ran from the lake to the sea. On the nearer side of the brook +lay a little village; while on the further bank was a large, well-kept +park, in which stood a grey quadrangular mansion. Beyond the park, +nearly as far as the eye could reach, stretched a wide, dreary swamp, +bounded only by the sea on the one hand and the lake on the other. The +only pretty or pleasant features in the landscape were the village and +park; and little could be seen of those for intervening sandhills. + +The lake was Marton Mere; the swamp was Marton Moss; and the district +was the Fylde of Lancashire. The County Palatine was renowned, at that +time, in the eyes of the Londoners, for its air, which was "subtile and +piercing," without any "gross vapours nor foggie mists;" for the +abundance and excellence of its cattle, which were sent even then to the +metropolis; for the plentiful variety of its provisions; for its +magnificent woods, "preserved by gentlemen for beauty," to such an +extent that no wood was used for fuel, and its place was supplied by +"sea-coal" and turf; for its numerous churches, "in no part of the land +more in proportion to the inhabitants." But the good qualities of the +County Palatine were not likely to be appreciated by our weary +travellers. + +The travellers were three in number:--a short, thick-set man, in a coat +of frieze as rough as his surroundings; a woman, and a child; lastly +came a pack-horse, bearing a quantity of luggage. + +"Eh me!" ejaculated Barbara Polwhele, with a weary sigh. "Master, doth +any man live hereaway?" + +"Eh?" queried the man, not looking back. + +Barbara repeated her question. + +"Ay," said he in a rough voice. + +"By 'r Lady!" exclaimed Barbara, pityingly. "What manner of folk be +they, I marvel?" + +"Me an' th' rest," said the man. + +"Eh? what, you never--Be we anear Enville Court now?" + +"O'er yon," replied the man, pointing straight forward with his whip, +and then giving it a sharp crack, as a reminder to the galloways. + +"What, in the midst of yonder marsh?" cried poor Barbara. + +Dick gave a hoarse chuckle, but made no other reply. Barbara's +sensations were coming very near despair. + +"What call men your name, Master?" she demanded, after some minutes' +gloomy meditation. + +"Name?" echoed the stolid individual before her. + +"Ay," said she. + +"Dick o' Will's o' Mally's o' Robin's o' Joan's o' owd Dick's," +responded he, in a breath. + +"Marry La'kin!" exclaimed Barbara, relieving her feelings by recourse to +her favourite epithet. She took the whole pedigree to be a polysyllabic +name. "Dear heart, to think of a country where the folk have names as +long as a cart-rope!" + +"Bab, I am aweary!" said little Clare, rousing up from a nap which she +had taken leaning against Barbara. + +"And well thou mayest, poor chick!" returned Barbara compassionately; +adding in an undertone,--"Could she ne'er have come so far as Kirkham!" + +They toiled wearily on after this, until presently Dick o' Will's--I +drop the rest of the genealogy--drew bridle, and looking back, pointed +with his whip to the village which now lay close before them. + +"See thee!" said he. "Yon's th' fold." + +"Yon's what?" demanded Barbara. + +The word was unintelligible to her, as Dick pronounced it "fowd;" but +had she understood it, she would have been little wiser. Fold meant to +her a place to pen sheep in, while it signified to Dick an enclosure +surrounded by houses. + +"What is 't?" responded Dick. "Why, it's th' fowd." + +"But what is `fowd'?" asked bewildered Barbara. + +"Open thy een, wilt thou?" answered Dick cynically. + +Barbara resigned the attempt to comprehend him, and, unwittingly +obeying, looked at the landscape. + +Just the village itself was pretty enough. It was surrounded with +trees, through which white houses peeped out, clustered together on the +bank of the little brook. The spire of the village church towered up +through the foliage, close to the narrow footbridge; and beside it stood +the parsonage,--a long, low, stone house, embowered in ivy. + +"Is yonder Enville Court?" asked Barbara, referring to the house in the +park. + +"Ay," said Dick. + +"And where dwelleth Master Tremayne?" + +"Eh?" + +"Master Tremayne--the parson--where dwelleth he?" + +"Th' parson? Why, i' th' parsonage, for sure," said Dick, conclusively. +"Where else would thou have him?" + +"Ay, in sooth, but which is the parsonage?" + +"Close by th' church--where would thou have it?" + +"What, yonder green house, all o'er ivy?" + +"For sure." + +They slowly filed into the village, rode past the church and +parsonage,--at which latter Barbara looked lovingly, as to a haven of +comfort--forded the brook, and turned in at the gates of Enville Court. +When they came up to the house, and saw it free of hindering foliage, +she found that it was a stately quadrangle of grey stone, with a stone +terrace round three sides of it, a garden laid out in grim, Dutch square +order, away from the sea; and two or three cottages, with farm-buildings +and stables, grouped behind. The horses drew up at a side door. + +"Now!" lethargically said Dick, lumbering off his horse. "Con ye get +off by yoursen?" + +"I'll try," grunted the rather indignant Barbara, who considered that +her precious charge, Clare, was being very neglectfully received. She +sprang down more readily than Dick, and standing on the horse-block, +lifted down little Clare. + +"Hallo!" said Dick, by way of ringing the bell. + +A slight stir was heard through the open door, and a young woman +appeared, fresh-looking and smiling-faced. + +"Mistress Polwhele, I reckon?" she asked. "An' is this t' little lass? +Eh, God bless thee, little lass! Come in--thou'rt bound to be aweary." + +Clare looked up into the girl's pleasant face, and sliding her hand +confidingly into hers, said demurely,--"I'll come." + +"Dick 'll see to th' gear, Mistress," said the girl. + +"Thou'd better call Sim, Dick.--I reckon you'd best come wi' me." + +"What is your name?" asked Barbara, following her guide. + +"Jennet," said the smiling girl. + +"Well, Jennet, you are the best thing I have yet seen up hither," +announced Barbara cynically. + +"Eh, you've none seen nought yet!" said Jennet, laughing. "There's +better things here nor me, I'se warrant you." + +"Humph!" returned Barbara meditatively. She doubted it very much. + +Jennet paused at a door, and rapped. There was no answer; perhaps her +appeal was not heard by those within. She pushed the door a little +open, saying to Barbara, "There! you'd best go in, happen." + +So Barbara, putting little Clare before her, went in. + +It was a large, square, low room, sweet with the perfume of dried roses. +There were four occupants,--two ladies, and two girls. One of the +ladies sat with her back to the door, trying to catch the last ray of +daylight for her work; the other had dropped asleep. Evidently neither +had heard Jennet's knock. + +It was rather an awkward state of things. Little Clare went a few feet +into the room, stopped, and looked up at Barbara for direction. At the +same moment the elder girl turned her head and saw them. + +"Madam!" said Barbara stiffly. + +"Aunt Rachel!" [Note 1] said the girl. + +The lady who sat by the window looked round, and rose. She was young-- +certainly under thirty; but rather stiff and prim, very upright, and not +free from angularity. She gave the impression that she must have been +born just as she was, in her black satin skirt, dark blue serge kirtle, +unbending buckram cap, whitest and most unruffled of starched frills,-- +and have been kept ever since under a glass case. + +"You are Barbara Polwhele?" she said. + +Barbara dropped a courtesy, and replied affirmatively. + +"Sister!" said Mistress Rachel, appealing to the sleeper. + +No greater difference between two young women could well be imagined, +than that which existed in this instance. Lady Enville--for she was the +taker of the siesta--was as free from any appearance of angularity or +primness as possible. Everything about her was soft, delicate, and +graceful. She was fair in complexion, and very pretty. She had been +engaged in fancy-work, and it lay upon her lap, held lightly by one +hand, just as it had dropped when she fell asleep. + +"Sister!" said Rachel again. + +Lady Enville stirred, sighed, and half opened her eyes. + +"Here is thy little maid, Sister." + +Lady Enville opened her blue eyes fully, dropped her work on the floor, +and springing up, caught Clare to her bosom with the most exalted +expressions of delight. + +"Fragrance of my heart! My rose of spring! My gem of beauty! Art thou +come to me at last, my soul's darling?" + +Barbara looked on with a grim smile. Clare sat in perfect silence on +her mother's knee, suffering her caresses, but making no response. + +"She is not like thee, Sister," observed Rachel. + +"No, she is like her father," replied Lady Enville, stroking the child's +hair, and kissing her again. "Medoubteth if she will ever be as +lovesome as I. I was much better favoured at her years.--Art thou +aweary, sweeting?" + +At last Clare spoke; but only in an affirmative monosyllable. Clare's +thoughts were mixed ones. It was rather nice to sit on that soft velvet +lap, and be petted: but "Bab didn't like her." And why did not Bab like +her? + +"Thou hast not called me Mother, my floweret." + +Clare was too shy for that. The suggestion distressed her. To move the +house seemed as near possibility as to frame her lips to say that short +word. Fortunately for her, Lady Enville's mind never dwelt on a subject +for many seconds at once. She turned to Barbara. + +"And how goes it with thee, Barbara?" + +"Well, and I thank you, Mistress--my Lady, I would say." + +"Ah!" said Lady Enville, laughing softly. "I shall alway be Mistress +Walter with thee, I am well assured. So my father Avery is dead, I +count, or ye had not come?" + +The question was put in a tone as light and airy as possible. Clare +listened in surprised vexation. What did "she" mean by talking of +"Gaffer," in that strange way?--was she not sorry that he was gone away? +Bab was--thought Clare. + +Barbara's answer was in a very constrained tone. + +"Ah, well, 'tis to no good fretting," returned Lady Enville, gently +smoothing Clare's hair. "I cannot abide doole [mourning] and gloomy +faces. I would have all about me fresh and bright while I am so." + +This was rather above Clare's comprehension; but looking up at Barbara, +the child saw tears in her eyes. Her little heart revolted in a moment +from the caressing lady in velvet. What did she mean by making Bab cry? + +It was rather a misfortune that at this moment it pleased Lady Enville +to kiss Clare's forehead, and to say-- + +"Art thou ready to love us all, darling? Thou must know thy sisters, +and ye can play you together, when their tasks be adone.--Margaret!" + +"Ay, Madam." + +The elder girl laid down her work, and came to Lady Enville's side. + +"And thou too, Lucrece.--These be they, sweeting. Kiss them. Thou +shalt see Blanche ere it be long." + +But then Clare's stored-up anger broke out. The limit of her endurance +had been reached, and shyness was extinguished by vexation. + +"Get away!" she said, as Margaret bent down to kiss her. "You are not +my sisters! I won't kiss you! I won't call you sisters. Blanche is my +sister, but not you. Get away, both of you!" + +Lady Enville's eyes opened--for her--extremely wide. + +"Why, what can the child mean?" she exclaimed. "I can never govern +childre. Rachel, do--" + +Barbara was astonished and terrified. She laid a correcting hand upon +Clare's shoulder. + +"Mrs Clare, I'm ashamed of you! Cruel 'shamed, I am! The ladies will +account that I ne'er learned you behaviour. Kiss the young damsels +presently [immediately], like a sweet little maid, as you use to be, and +not like a wild blackamoor that ne'er saw governance!" + +But the matter was taken out of Barbara's hands, as Mistress Rachel +responded to the appeal made to her--not in words, but in solid deed. +She quietly grasped Clare, lifted her from her mother's knee, and, +carrying her to a large closet at one end of the room, shut her inside, +and sat down again with judicial imperturbability. + +"There you 'bide, child," announced Rachel, from her chair, "until such +time as you shall be sorry for your fault, and desire pardon.--Meg and +Lucrece, come and fold your sewing. 'Tis too dark to make an end +thereof this even." + +"Good Mistress," entreated poor Barbara in deep dismay, "I beseech you, +leave my little maid come out thence. She was never thus dealt withal +in all her life afore!" + +"No was she, [was she not], good wife?" returned Rachel unconcernedly. +"Then the sooner she makes beginning thereof, the better for her. Ease +your mind; I will keep her in yonder no longer than shall stand with her +good. Is she oft-times thus trying?" + +"Never afore knew I no such a thing!" said Barbara emphatically. + +"Only a little waywardness then, maybe," answered Rachel. "So much the +better." + +"Marry, sweet Mistress, the child is hungered and aweary. Pray you, +forgive her this once!" + +"Good lack!" plaintively exclaimed Lady Enville. "I hate discords +around me. Call Jennet, and bid her take Barbara into the hall, for it +must be nigh rear-supper." + +Go and sit down comfortably to supper, with her darling shut in a dark +closet! Barbara would as soon have thought of flying. + +"Leave her come forth, Rachel," said the child's mother. + +"I love peace as well as thou, Sister; but I love right better," +answered Rachel unmovedly. But she rose and went to the closet. +"Child! art thou yet penitent?" + +"Am I what?" demanded Clare from within, in a voice which was not +promising for much penitence. + +"Art thou sorry for thy fault?" + +"No." + +"Wilt thou ask pardon?" + +"No," said Clare sturdily. + +"Thou seest, Sister, I cannot let her out," decided Rachel, looking +back. + +In utter despair Barbara appealed to Lady Enville. + +"Mistress Walter, sure you have never the heart to keep the little maid +shut up in yon hole? She is cruel weary, the sweeting!--and an-hungered +to boot. Cause her to come forth, I pray you of your gentleness!" + +Ah, Barbara! Appearances were illusive. There was no heart under the +soft exterior of the one woman, and there was a very tender one, covered +by a crust of rule and propriety, latent in the breast of the other. + +"Gramercy, Barbara!" said Lady Enville pettishly, with a shrug of her +shoulders. "I never can deal with childre." + +"Leave her come forth, and I will deal withal," retorted Barbara +bluntly. + +"Dear heart! Rachel, couldst thou not leave her come? Never mind +waiting till she is sorry. I shall have never any peace." + +Rachel laid her hand doubtfully on the latch of the closet door, and +stood considering the matter. + +Just then another door was softly pushed open, and a little child of +three years old came into the room:--a much prettier child than Clare, +having sky-blue eyes, shining fair hair, a complexion of exquisite +delicacy, pretty regular features, and eyebrows of the surprised type. +She ran up straight to Rachel, and grasped the blue serge kirtle in her +small chubby hand. + +"Come see my sis'er," was the abrupt announcement. + +That this little bit of prettiness was queen at Enville Court, might be +seen in Rachel's complacent smile. She opened the closet door about an +inch. + +"Art thou yet sorry?" + +"No," said Clare stubbornly. + +There was a little pull at the blue kirtle. + +"Want see my sis'er!" pleaded the baby voice, in tones of some +impatience. + +"Wilt be a good maid if thou come forth?" demanded Rachel of the culprit +within. + +"That is as may be," returned Clare insubordinately. + +"If I leave thee come forth, 'tis not for any thy goodness, but I would +not be hard on thee in the first minute of thy home-coming, and I make +allowance for thy coldness and weariness, that may cause thee to be +pettish." + +Another little pull warned Rachel to cut short her lecture. + +"Now, be a good maid! Come forth, then. Here is Blanche awaiting +thee." + +Out came Clare, looking very far from penitent. But when Blanche +toddled up, put her fat arms round her sister as far as they would go, +and pouted up her little lips for a kiss,--to the astonishment of every +one, Clare burst into tears. Nobody quite knew why, and perhaps Clare +could hardly have said herself. Barbara interposed, by coming forward +and taking possession of her, with the apologetic remark-- + +"Fair cruel worn-out she is, poor heart!" + +And Rachel condoned the affair, with--"Give her her supper, good wife, +and put her abed. Jennet will show thee all needful." + +So Clare signalised her first entrance into her new home by rebellion +and penalty. + +The next morning rose brightly. Barbara and Jennet came to dress the +four little girls, who all slept in one room; and took them out at once +into the garden. Clare seemed to have forgotten the episode of the +previous evening, and no one cared to remind her of it. Margaret had +brought a ball with her, and the children set to work at play, with an +amount of activity and interest which they would scarcely have bestowed +upon work. Barbara and Jennet sat down on a wooden seat which ran round +the trunk of a large ash-tree, and Jennet, pulling from her pocket a +pair of knitting-needles and a ball of worsted, began to ply the former +too quickly for the eye to follow. + +"Of a truth, I would I had some matter of work likewise," observed +Barbara; "I have been used to work hard, early and late, nor it liketh +me not to sit with mine hands idle. Needs must that I pray my Lady of +some task belike." + +"Do but say the like unto Mistress Rachel," said Jennet, laughing, "and +I warrant thee thou'lt have work enough." + +"Mistress Rachel o'erseeth the maids work?" + +"There's nought here but hoo [she] does o'ersee," replied Jennet. + +"She keepeth house, marry, by my Lady's direction?" + +"Hoo does not get much direction, I reckon," said Jennet. + +"What, my Lady neither makes nor meddles?" + +Jennet laughed. "I ne'er saw her make yet so much as an apple turno'er. +As for tapestry work, and such, hoo makes belike. But I'll just tell +thee:--Sir Thomas is our master, see thou. Well, his wife's his +mistress. And Mistress Rachel's her mistress. And Mistress Blanche is +Mistress Rachel's mistress. Now then, thou knowest somewhat thou didn't +afore." + +"And who is Mistress Blanche's mistress or master belike?" demanded +Barbara, laughing in her turn. + +"Nay, I've getten to th' top," said Jennet. "I can go no fur'." + +"There'll be a master some of these days, I cast no doubt," observed +Barbara, drily. + +"Happen," returned Jennet. "But 'tis a bit too soon yet, I reckon.-- +Mrs Meg, yon's the breakfast bell." + +Margaret caught the ball from Clare, and pocketed it, and the whole +party went into the hall for breakfast. Here the entire family +assembled, down to the meanest scullion-lad. Jennet took Clare's hand, +and led her up to the high table, at which Mistress Rachel had already +taken her seat, while Sir Thomas and Lady Enville were just entering +from the door behind it. + +"Ha! who cometh here?" asked Sir Thomas, cheerily. "My new daughter, I +warrant. Come hither, little maid!" + +Clare obeyed rather shyly. Her step-father set her on his knee, kissed +her, stroked her hair with a rather heavy hand, and bade her "be a good +lass and serve God well, and he would be good father to her." Clare was +not sorry when the ordeal was over, and she found herself seated between +Margaret and Barbara. Sir Thomas glanced round the table, where an +empty place was left on the form, just opposite Clare. + +"Where is Jack?" he inquired. + +"Truly, I know not," said Lady Enville languidly. + +"I bade him arise at four of the clock," observed Rachel briskly. + +"And saw him do it?" asked Sir Thomas, with an amused expression. + +"Nay, in very deed,--I had other fish to fry." + +"Then, if Jack be not yet abed, I am no prophet." + +"Thou art no prophet, brother Tom, whether or no," declared Rachel. "I +pray thee of some of that herring." + +While Rachel was being helped to the herring, a slight noise was audible +at the door behind, and the next minute, tumbling into his place with a +somersault, a boy of eleven suddenly appeared in the hitherto vacant +space between Rachel and Lucrece. + +"Ah Jack, Jack!" reprimanded Sir Thomas. + +"Salt, Sir?" suggested Jack, demurely. + +"What hour of the clock did thine Aunt bid thee rise, Jack?" + +"Well, Sir," responded Jack, screwing up one eye, as if the effort of +memory were painful, "as near as I may remember, 'twas about one hundred +and eighty minutes to seven of the clock." + +"Thou wilt come to ill, Jack, as sure as sure," denounced Aunt Rachel, +solemnly. + +"I am come to breakfast, Aunt, and I shall come to dinner," remarked +Jack: "that is as sure as sure." + +Sir Thomas leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily, bidding Jack +help himself; while Rachel shook her head ominously over Jack's future. +Jack stood up, surveyed the table, and proceeded to make a wide gash in +an enormous pie. Just as he was laying down knife and spoon, and +retiring with his spoils, he caught a glimpse of Clare, who sat studying +him in some trepidation and much curiosity. + +"Hallo! who are you?" was Jack's unceremonious greeting. + +"Wilt thou ne'er learn to behave thyself, lad?" corrected Rachel. + +"You see, Aunt, none never learned me yet," returned Jack coolly; +looking at Clare in a manner which said, "I await your answer." + +Sir Thomas good-naturedly replied for her. + +"'Tis thy new sister, my lad,--little Clare Avery. Play none of thy +tricks on her, Jack." + +"My tricks, Sir?" demanded Jack with an air of innocent astonishment. + +"I know thee, lad!" said Sir Thomas shortly, but good humouredly. + +Jack proceeded to make short work of the pie, but kept his eyes on +Clare. + +"Now, little maids," said Rachel, when they rose from the table, "I will +hear, you your tasks in an hour hence. Till the clock strike, ye may go +into the garden." + +"May we have some cakes with us, Aunt Rachel?" inquired Jack demurely. + +"Cake!" echoed Blanche, clapping her little fat hands. + +"Thou!" said Rachel. "Art thou a maid? I have nought to do with thy +tasks. Be they ready for Master Tremayne?" + +Jack turned up the whites of his eyes, and turned down the corners of +his mouth, in a style which exhibited a very emphatic No. + +"Go and study them, then, this minute," said his Aunt. + +The party separated, Jack putting on a look which was the embodiment of +despair; but Sir Thomas, calling Margaret back, put into her hands the +plate of small cakes; bidding her take them to the garden and divide +them among the children. + +"Brother, Brother!" remonstrated Rachel. + +"Tut! the cakes will do them no harm," said he carelessly. "There are +but a dozen or the like." + +Margaret went first towards the garden, carrying the plate, Clare and +Blanche following. As they reached the terrace, Lucrece overtook them, +going on about a yard in advance of Margaret. When the latter turned +her head to call Blanche to "come on," Clare, to her utter amazement, +saw Lucrece stop, and, as Margaret passed her, silently and deftly dip +her hand into the plate, and transfer two of the little cakes to her +pocket. The action was so promptly and delicately performed, leaving +Margaret entirely unconscious of it, that in all probability it was not +the first of its kind. + +Clare was intensely shocked. Was Lucrece a thief? + +Margaret sat down on a grassy bank, and counted out the cakes. There +were eleven. + +"How is this?" she asked, looking perplexed. "There were thirteen of +these, I am well assured, for I counted them o'er as I came out of hall. +Who has taken two?" + +"Not I," said Clare shortly. + +Blanche shook her curly head; Lucrece, silently but calmly, held out +empty hands. So, thought Clare, she is a liar as well, as a thief. + +"They must be some whither," said Margaret, quietly; "and I know where +it is like: Lucrece, I do verily believe they are in thy pocket." + +"Dost thou count me a thief, Meg?" retorted Lucrece. + +"By no manner of means, without thou hast the chance," answered Margaret +satirically, but still quietly. "Very well,--thou hast chosen thy +share,--take it. Three for each of us three, and two over. Shall we +give them to Jack? What say ye?" + +"Jack!" cried Blanche, dancing about on the grass. + +Clare assented shyly, and she and Blanche received their three cakes +each. + +"Must I have none, Meg?" demanded Lucrece in an injured tone. + +"Oh ay! keep what thou hast," said Margaret, calmly munching the first +of her own three cakes. + +"Who said I had any?" + +"I said it. I know thee, as Father saith to Jack. Thou hast made thy +bed,--go lie thereon." + +Lucrece marched slowly away, looking highly indignant; but before she +was quite out of sight, the others saw her slip her hand into her +pocket, bring out one of the little cakes, and bite it in two. Margaret +laughed when she saw Clare's look of shocked solemnity. + +"I said she had them,--the sly-boots!" was her only comment. + +Clare finished her cakes, and ran off to Barbara, who, seated under the +ash-tree, had witnessed the whole scene. + +"Bab, I will not play me with yonder Lucrece. She tells lies, and is a +thief." + +"Marry La'kin, my poor lamb!" sighed Barbara. "My mind sorely misgiveth +me that I have brought thee into a den of thieves. Eh me, if the good +Master had but lived a while longer! Of a truth, the Lord's ways be +passing strange." + +Clare had run off again to Margaret, and the last sentence was not +spoken to her. But it was answered by somebody. + +"Which of the Lord's ways, Barbara Polwhele?" + +"Sir?" exclaimed Barbara, looking up surprisedly into the grave, though +kindly face of a tall, dark-haired man in clerical garb. "I was but-- +eh, but yon eyes! 'Tis never Master Robin?" + +Mr Tremayne's smile replied sufficiently that it was. + +"And is yonder little Clare Avery?" he asked, with a tender inflection +in his voice. "Walter's child,--my brother Walter!" + +"Ay, Master Robin, yon is Mistress Clare; and you being shepherd of this +flock hereaway, I do adjure you, look well to this little lamb, for I am +sore afeard she is here fallen amongst wolves." + +"I am not the Shepherd, good friend,--only one of the Shepherd's +herd-lads. But I will look to the lamb as He shall speed me. And which +of the Lord's ways is so strange unto thee, Barbara?" + +"Why, to think that our dear, good Master should die but now, and leave +the little lamb to be cast in all this peril." + +"Then--`Some of the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth'--doth the +verse run thus in thy Bible, Barbara?" + +"Nay, not so: but can you understand the same Master Robin?" + +"By no means. Wherefore should I?" + +Barbara made no answer beyond an appealing look. + +"`He knoweth the way that I take.' If I know not so much as one step +thereof, what matter? I shall have light to see the next step ere I +must set down my foot. That is enough, Barbara, for `such as keep His +covenant,' and I have ever counted thee amongst them." + +"Eh, Master Robin, but 'twere easier done to walk in darkness one's +self, than to see yon little pet lamb--" + +And Barbara's voice faltered. + +"Hath somewhat troubled thee specially at this time?" + +In answer, she told him what she had just seen. + +"And I do trust, Master Robin, I have not ill done to say this unto you, +but of a truth I am diseased [uneasy, anxious] touching my jewel, lest +she fall into the like evil courses, being to dwell here." + +"Thou hast not ill done, friend; nor will I neglect the warning, trust +me." + +"I thank you much, Master. And how doth good Mistress Thekla? Verily I +am but evil-mannered to be thus long ere I ask it." + +"She is well, and desiring much to see thee." + +"And your childre, Master Robin,--have you not?" + +"I have five childre, Barbara, two sons and three daughters; but of them +Christ hath housen four in His garner, and hath left but one in my +sight. And that seemed unto us a very strange way; yet was it mercy and +truth." + +"Eh, but I could ne'er repine at a babe's dying!" said Barbara, shaking +her head. "Do but think what they 'scape of this weary world's +troubles, Master Robin." + +"Ah, Barbara, 'tis plain thou never hadst a child," said Mr Tremayne, +sighing. "I grant all thou hast said. And yet, when it cometh to the +pass, the most I can do is to lift mine head and hold my peace, `because +God did it.' God witteth best how to try us all." + +"Nay, if He would but not try yon little lambkin!" + +"An unhappy prayer, Barbara; for, that granted, she should never come +forth as gold.--But I must be on my way to give Jack his Latin lesson. +When thou canst find thy way to my dwelling, all we shall be full fain +to see thee. Good morrow." + +When Clare was undergoing her ordeal in the schoolroom, an hour later, +Barbara set out on her visit to the parsonage. But she missed her way +through the park, and instead of coming out of the great gates, near the +foot-bridge, she found herself at a little gate, opening on the road, +from which neither church nor village could be seen as landmarks. There +was no cottage in sight at which to ask the road to the parsonage. +While Barbara stood and looked round her, considering the matter, she +perceived a boy of about twelve years old slowly approaching her from +the right hand,--evidently a gentleman's son, from his dress, which, +though very simple, was of materials indicative of good birth. He had +long dark brown hair, which curled over his shoulders, and almost hid +his face, bent down over a large book, for he was reading as he walked. +Barbara waited until he came up to her. + +"Give you good morrow, Master! I be loth to come betwixt you and your +studies, but my need presseth me to pray of you the way unto Master +Tremayne's house the parson?" + +The lad started on hearing a voice, hastily closed his book, and lifted +a pair of large, dreamy brown eyes to Barbara's face. But he seemed +quite at a loss to recall what he had been asked to do. + +"You would know?"--he said inquiringly. + +"I would know, young Master," returned Barbara boldly, "if your name be +not Tremayne?" + +"Ay so," assented the boy, with a rather surprised look. "My name is +Arthur Tremayne." [A fictitious person.] + +"And you be son unto Master Tremayne the parson?" + +"Truly." + +"Verily I guessed so much, for his eyes be in your head," said Barbara +quaintly. "But your mouth and nose be Mrs Thekla's. Eh, dear heart, +what changes life bringeth! Why, it seemeth me but yestre'en that your +father was no bigger than you. And every whit as much given to his +book, I warrant you. Pray you, is my mistress your mother at home?" + +"Ay, you shall find her there now," said the boy, as he tucked the big +book under his arm, and began to walk on in Barbara's company. "I count +you be our old friend, Barbara Polwhele, that is come with little +Mistress Clare? My mother will be fain to see you." + +Barbara was highly gratified to find that Arthur Tremayne had heard of +her already. The two trudged onwards together, and in a few minutes +reached the ivy-covered parsonage, standing in its pretty flower-garden. +Arthur preceded Barbara into the house, laid down his book on the hall +window-seat, and opening a door which led to the back part of the house, +appealed to an unseen person within. + +"Mother! here is Mistress Barbara Polwhele." + +"Barbara Polwhele!" said a voice in reply,--a voice which Barbara had +not heard for nineteen years, yet which time had so little altered that +she recognised at once the Thekla Rose of old. And in another moment +Mrs Tremayne stood before her. + +Her aspect was more changed than her voice. The five terrible years of +the Marian persecution had swept over her head in early youth, and their +bitter anxieties and forebodings left her, at the age of nineteen, a +white, wan, slender, delicate girl. But now a like number of years, +spent in calm, happy work, had left their traces also, and Mrs Tremayne +looked what she was, a gentle, contented woman of thirty-eight, with +more bloom on her cheek than she had ever worn in youth, and the piteous +expression of distressed suspense entirely gone from her eyes. + +"Eh, Mistress Thekla!" was Barbara's greeting. + +"I be cruel glad to see you. Methinks you be gone so many years younger +as you must needs be elder." + +"Nay, truly, for I were then but a babe in the cradle," was the laughing +answer. "Thou art a losenger [flatterer], Barbara." + +"In very deed," returned Barbara inconsistently, "I could have known you +any whither." + +"And me also?" demanded another voice, as a little lively old lady +trotted out of the room which Mrs Tremayne had just left. "Shouldst +thou have known me any whither, Barbara Polwhele?" + +"Marry La'kin! if 'tis not Mistress Rose!" [Name fact, character +fictitious.] + +"Who but myself? I dwell with Thekla since I am widow. And I make the +cakes, as Arthur knows," added Mrs Rose, cheerily, patting her +grandson's head; "but if I should go hence, there should be a famine, +_ma foi_!" + +"A famine of _pain d'epices_" assented Mrs Tremayne, smiling. "Ah, +Mother dear, thou spoilest the lad." + +"Who ever knew a grandame to do other?" observed Barbara. "More +specially the only one." + +"The only one!" echoed his mother, softly, stroking his long hair. +"There be four other, Barbara,--not lost, but waiting." + +"Now, Barbara, come in hither," said Mrs Rose, bustling back into the +room, apparently desirous of checking any sad thoughts on the part of +her daughter; "sit thou down, and tell us all about the little Clare, +and the dear Master Avery, and all. I listen and mix my cake, all one." + +Barbara followed her, and found herself in the kitchen. She had not +done wondering at the change--not in Mrs Tremayne, but in her mother. +Nineteen years before, Barbara had known Marguerite Rose, a crushed, +suffering woman, with no shadow of mirth about her. It seemed unnatural +and improper to hear her laugh. But Mrs Rose's nature was that of a +child,--simple and versatile: she lived in the present, whether for joy +or pain. + +Mrs Rose finished gathering her materials, and proceeded to mix her +_pain d'epices_, or Flemish gingerbread, while Mrs Tremayne made +Barbara sit down in a large chair furnished with soft cushions. Arthur +came too, having picked up his big book, and seated himself in the +window-seat with it, his long hair falling over his face as he bent down +over it but whether he were reading or listening was known only to +himself. + +The full account of John Avery's end was given to these his dearest +friends, and there was a good deal of conversation about other members +of the family: and Barbara heard, to her surprise, that a cousin of +Clare, a child rather older than herself, was shortly coming to live at +the parsonage. Lysken van Barnevelt [a fictitious person], like Clare, +was an only child and an orphan; and Mr Tremayne purposed to pay his +debt to the Averys by the adoption of Frances Avery's child. But +Barbara was rather dismayed when she heard that Lysken would not at +first be able to talk to her cousin, since her English was of the most +fragmentary description. + +"She will soon learn," said Mrs Tremayne. + +"And until she shall learn, I only can talk to her," added Mrs Rose, +laughing. "_Ay de mi_! I must pull up my Flemish out of my brains. It +is so deep down, I do wonder if it will come. It is--let me see!-- +forty, fifty--_ma foi_! 'tis nigh sixty years since I talk Flemish with +my father!" + +"And now, tell us, what manner of child is Clare?" asked Mrs Tremayne. + +"The sweetest little maid in all the world, and of full good conditions +[disposition], saving only that she lacketh breeding [education] +somewhat." + +"The which Mistress Rachel shall well furnish her withal. She is a +throughly good teacher. But I will go and see the sweeting, so soon as +I may." + +"Now, Mrs Thekla, of your goodness, do me to wit what manner of folk be +these that we be fallen in withal? It were easier for me to govern both +Mrs Clare and mine own self, if I might but, know somewhat thereof +aforetime." + +"Truly, good friend, they be nowise ill folk," said Mrs Tremayne, with +a quiet smile. "Sir Thomas is like to be a good father unto the child, +for he hath a kindly nature. Only, for godliness, I fear I may not say +over much. But he is an upright man, and a worthy, as men go in this +world. And for my Lady his wife, you know her as well as I." + +"Marry La'kin, and if you do love her no better!--" + +"She is but young," said Mrs Tremayne, excusingly. + +"What heard I?" inquired Mrs Rose, looking up from her cookery. "I did +think thou hadst been a Christian woman, Barbara Polwhele." + +"Nay, verily, Mistress Rose!--what mean you?" demanded the astonished +Barbara. + +"_Bon_!--Is it not the second part of the duty of a Christian woman to +love her neighbour as herself?" + +"Good lack! 'tis not in human nature," said Barbara, bluntly. "If we be +no Christians short of that, there be right few Christians in all the +world, Mistress mine." + +"So there be," was the reply. "Is it not?" + +"Truly, good friend, this is not in nature," said Mrs Tremayne, gently. +"It is only in grace." + +"Then in case it so be, is there no grace?" asked Barbara in a slightly +annoyed tone. + +"Who am I, that I should judge?" was the meek answer. "Yet methinks +there must be less grace than nature." + +"Well!--and of Mistress Rachel, what say you?" + +"Have you a care that you judge her not too harshly. She is, I know, +somewhat forbidding on the outside, yet she hath a soft heart, Barbara." + +"I am thankful to hear the same, for I had not so judged," was Barbara's +somewhat acrid answer. + +"Ah, she showeth the worst on the outside." + +"And for the childre? I love not yon Lucrece.--Now, Mistress Rose, have +a care your cakes be well mingled, and snub not me." + +"Ah! there spake the conscience," said Mrs Rose, laughing. + +"I never did rightly understand Lucrece," answered her daughter. "For +Margaret, she is plain and open enough; a straightforward, truthful +maiden, that men may trust. But for Lucrece--I never felt as though I +knew her. There is that in her--be it pride, be it shamefacedness, call +it as you will--that is as a wall in the way." + +"I call it deceitfulness, Thekla," said her mother decidedly. + +"I trust not so, Mother! yet I have feared--" + +"Time will show," said Mrs Rose, filling her moulds with the compound +which was to turn out _pain d'epices_. + +"Mistress Blanche, belike, showeth not what her conditions shall be," +remarked Barbara. + +"She is a lovesome little maid as yet," said Mrs Tremayne. "Mefeareth +she shall be spoiled as she groweth toward womanhood, both with praising +of her beauty and too much indulging of her fantasies." + +"And now, what say you to Master Jack?" demanded Barbara in some +trepidation. "Is he like to play ugsome [ugly, disagreeable] tricks on +Mrs Clare, think you?" + +"Jack--ah, poor Jack!" replied Mrs Tremayne. + +Barbara looked up in some surprise. Jack seemed to her a most unlikely +subject for the compassionate ejaculation. + +"And dost thou marvel that I say, `Poor Jack'? It is because I have +known men of his conditions aforetime, and I have ever noted that either +they do go fast to wrack, or else they be set in the hottest furnace of +God's disciplining. I know not which shall be the way with Jack. But +how so,--poor Jack!" + +"But what deem you his conditions, in very deed?" + +"Why, there is not a soul in all the village that loveth not Jack, and I +might well-nigh say, not one that hath not holpen him at some pinch, +whereto his reckless ways have brought him. If the lacings of satin +ribbon be gone from Mistress Rachel's best gown, and the cat be found +with them tied all delicately around her paws and neck, and her very +tail,--'tis Jack hath done it. If Margaret go about with a paper pinned +to the tail of her gown, importing that she is a thief and a traitor to +the Queen's Highness,--'tis Jack hath pinned it on when she saw him not. +If some rare book from Sir Thomas his library be found all open on the +garden walk, wet and ruinated,--'tis Jack. If Mistress Rachel be +astepping into her bed, and find the sheets and blankets all awry, so +that she cannot compass it till all is pulled in pieces and turned +aright, she hath no doubt to say, 'tis Jack. And yet once I say, Poor +Jack! If he be to come unto good, mefeareth the furnace must needs be +heated fiercely. Yet after all, what am I, that I should say it? God +hath a thousand ways to fetch His lost sheep home." + +"But is he verily ill-natured?" + +"Nay, in no wise. He hath as tender a heart as any lad ever I saw. I +have known him to weep bitterly over aught that hath touched his heart. +Trust me, while I cast no doubt he shall play many a trick on little +Clare, yet no sooner shall he see her truly sorrowful thereat, than Jack +shall turn comforter, nor go not an inch further." + +Barbara was beginning another question, of which she had plenty more to +ask, when she saw that the clock pointed to a quarter to eleven, which +was dinner-time at Enville Court. There was barely time to reach the +house, and she took leave hastily, declining Mrs Tremayne's invitation +to stay and dine at the parsonage. + +When she entered the hall, she found the household already assembled, +and the sewers bringing in a smoking baron of beef. At the upper end +Lady Enville was delicately arranging the folds of her crimson satin +dress; the little girls were already seated; and Mistress Rachel, with +brown holland apron and cuffs, stood with a formidable carving-knife in +her hand, ready to begin an attack upon the beef. The carving was +properly Lady Enville's prerogative; but as with all things which gave +her trouble, she preferred to delegate it to her sister-in-law. + +Sir Thomas came in late, and said grace hastily. The Elizabethan grace +was not limited to half-a-dozen words. It took about as long as family +prayers usually do now. Jack, in his usual style, came scampering in +just when grace was finished. + +"Good sooth! I have had such discourse with Master Tremayne," said Sir +Thomas. "He hath the strangest fantasies. Only look you--" + +"A shive of beef, Sister?" interpolated Rachel, who had no notion of +allowing the theoretical to take precedence of the practical. + +Lady Enville languidly declined anything so gross as beef. She would +take a little--very little--of the venison pasty. + +"I'll have beef, Aunt!" put in unseasonable Jack. + +"Wilt thou have manners?" severely returned Rachel. + +"Where shall I find them, Aunt?" coolly inquired Jack, letting his eyes +rove about among the dishes. "May I help you likewise?" + +"Behave thyself, Jack!" said his father, laughing. + +The rebuke was neutralised by the laughter. Rachel went on carving in +dignified silence. + +"Would you think it?" resumed Sir Thomas, when everybody was helped, and +conversation free to flow. "Master Tremayne doth conceive that we +Christian folk be meant to learn somewhat from those ancient Jews that +did wander about with Moses in the wilderness. Ne'er heard I no such a +fantasy. To conceive that we can win knowledge from the rotten old +observances of those Jew rascals! Verily, this passeth!" + +"Beats the Dutch, Sir!" said incorrigible Jack. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. All members of the Enville family and household are fictitious +persons. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +BREAKERS AHEAD. + + "Our treasures moth and rust corrupt: + Or thieves break through and steal; or they + Make themselves wings and fly away. + One man made merry as he supped, + Nor guessed how, when that night grew dim, + His soul should be required of him." + + _Ellen Alleyn_. + +Eleven years had passed away since the events of the previous chapters, +and in the room where we first saw her, Rachel Enville sat with the four +girls around her. Little girls no longer,--young ladies now; for the +youngest, Blanche, was not far from her fifteenth birthday. Margaret-- +now a young woman of four-and-twenty, and only not married because her +betrothed was serving with the army of occupation in the Netherlands-- +was very busily spinning; Lucrece--a graceful maiden of twenty-two, not +strictly handsome, but possessed of an indescribable fascination which +charmed all who saw her--sat with her eyes bent down on her embroidery; +Clare--seventeen, gentle, and unobtrusive--was engaged in plain sewing; +and Blanche,--well, what was Blanche doing? She sat in the deep +window-seat, her lap full of spring flowers, idly taking up now one, and +now another,--weaving a few together as if she meant to make a wreath,-- +then suddenly abandoning the idea and gathering them into a nosegay,-- +then throwing that aside and dreamily plunging both hands into the +fragrant mass. Blanche had developed into a very pretty picture,-- +lovelier than Lady Enville, whom she resembled in feature. + +"Blanche!" said her aunt suddenly. + +Blanche looked up as if startled. Rachel had changed little. Time had +stiffened, not softened, both her grogram and her prejudices. + +"What dost thou?" she demanded. + +"Oh! I--well--I know not what I did, Aunt Rachel. I was thinking, I +reckon." + +"And where were thy thoughts?" was the next searching query. + +Blanche smelt at her flowers, coloured, laughed, and ended by saying +lightly, "I scantly know, Aunt." + +"Then the sooner thou callest them to order, the better. She must needs +be an idle jade that wits not whereof she thinketh." + +"Well, if you must needs know, Aunt Rachel," said Blanche, laughing +again, and just a trifle saucily, "I thought about--being wed." + +"Fie for shame!" was the prompt comment on this confession. "What hast +thou to do withal, till thy father and mother bid thee?" + +"Why, that is even what I thought, Aunt Rachel," said Blanche coolly, +"and I would I had more to do withal. I would fain choose mine own +servant." [Suitor.] + +"Thou!--Poor babe!" was the contemptuous rejoinder. + +"Well, Aunt Rachel, you wot a woman must be wed." + +"That's a man's notion!" said Rachel in her severest manner. "Blanche, +I do marvel greatly that thou hast not more womanfulness than so. A +woman must be wed, quotha! Who saith it? Some selfish man, I warrant, +that thought women were create into the world for none other cause but +to be his serving-maids!" + +"I am sure I know not wherefore we were create," muttered Blanche, loud +enough for her sisters to hear but not her Aunt. + +Rachel stopped her carding. She saw a first-rate opening for a lecture, +and on her own special pet topic. + +"Maidens, I would fain have you all list me heedfully. Prithee, take +not up, none of you, with men's notions. To wit, that a woman must +needs be wed, and that otherwise she is but half a woman, and the like +foolery. Nay, verily; for when she is wed she is no more at all a +woman, but only the half of a man, and is shorn of all her glory. Wit +ye all what marriage truly meaneth? It is to be a slave, and serve a +man at his beck, all the days of thy life. A maid is her own queen, and +may do as it like her--" + +"Would I might!" said Blanche under her breath. + +"But a wife must needs search out her lord's pleasure." + +"Or make him search out hers," boldly interposed Blanche. + +"Child, lay thou down forthwith that foolish fantasy," returned Rachel +with great solemnity. "So long time as that thing man is not sure of +thee, he is the meekest mannered beast under the sun. He will promise +thee all thy desire whatsoever. But once give leave unto thy finger to +be rounded by that golden ring the which he holdeth out to thee, and +where be all his promises? Marry, thou mayest whistle for them,--ay, +and weep." + +Rachel surely had no intention of bringing her lecture to a close so +early; but at this point it was unfortunately--or, as Blanche thought, +fortunately--interrupted. A girl of nineteen came noiselessly into the +room, carrying a small basket of early cherries. She made no attempt to +announce herself; she was too much at home at Enville Court to stand on +ceremony. Coming up to Rachel, she stooped down and kissed her, setting +the basket on a small table by her side. + +"Ah, Lysken Barnevelt! Thou art welcome. What hast brought yonder, +child?" + +"Only cherries, Mistress Rachel:--our early white-hearts, which my Lady +loveth, and Aunt Thekla sent me hither with the first ripe." + +"Wherefore many thanks and hearty, to her and thee. Sit thee down, +Lysken: thou art in good time for four-hours. Hast brought thy work?" + +Lysken pulled out of her pocket a little roll of brown holland, which, +when unrolled, proved to be a child's pinafore, destined for the help of +some poverty-stricken mother; and in another minute she was seated at +work like the rest. And while Lysken works, let us look at her. + +A calm, still-faced girl is this, with smooth brown hair, dark eyes, a +complexion nearly colourless, a voice low, clear, but seldom heard, and +small delicate hands, at once quick and quiet. A girl that has nothing +to say for herself,--is the verdict of most surface observers who see +her: a girl who has nothing in her,--say a few who consider themselves +penetrating judges of character. Nearly all think that the Reverend +Robert Tremayne's partiality has outrun his judgment, for he says that +his adopted daughter thinks more than is physically good for her. A +girl who can never forget the siege of Leyden: never forget the dead +mother, whose latest act was to push the last fragment of malt-cake +towards her starving child; never forget the martyr-father burnt at +Ghent by the Regent Alva, who boasted to his master, Philip of Spain, +that during his short regency he had executed eighteen thousand +persons,--of course, heretics. Quiet, thoughtful, silent,--how could +Lysken Barnevelt be anything else? + +A rap came at the door. + +"Mistress Rachel, here's old Lot's wife. You'll happen come and see +her?" inquired Jennet, putting only her head in at the door. + +"I will come to the hall, Jennet." + +Jennet's head nodded and retreated. Rachel followed her. + +"How doth Aunt Rachel snub us maids!" said Blanche lazily, clasping her +hands behind her head. "She never had no man to make suit unto her, so +she accounteth we may pass us [do without] belike." + +"Who told thee so much?" asked Margaret bluntly. + +"I lacked no telling," rejoined Blanche. "But I say, maids!--whom were +ye all fainest to wed?--What manner of man, I mean." + +"I am bounden already," said Margaret calmly. "An' mine husband leave +me but plenty of work to do, he may order him otherwise according to his +liking." + +"Work! thou art alway for work!" remonstrated ease-loving Blanche. + +"For sure. What were men and women made for, if not work?" + +"Nay, that Aunt Rachel asked of me, and I have not yet solute [solved] +the same.--Clare, what for thee?" + +"I have no thought thereanent, Blanche. God will dispose of me." + +"Why, so might a nun say.--Lysken, and thou?" + +Lysken showed rather surprised eyes when she lifted her head. "What +questions dost thou ask, Blanche! How wit I if I shall ever marry? I +rather account nay." + +"Ye be a pair of nuns, both of you!" said Blanche, laughing, yet in a +slightly annoyed tone. "Now, Lucrece, thou art of the world, I am well +assured. Answer me roundly,--not after the manner of these holy +sisters,--whom wert thou fainest to wed?" + +"A gentleman of high degree," returned Lucrece, readily. + +"Say a king, while thou goest about it," suggested her eldest sister. + +"Well, so much the better," was Lucrece's cool admission. + +"So much the worse, to my thinking," said Margaret. "Would I by my +good-will be a queen, and sit all day with my hands in my lap, a-toying +with the virginals, and fluttering of my fan,--and my heaviest +concernment whether I will wear on the morrow my white velvet gown +guarded with sables, or my black satin furred with minever? By my +troth, nay!" + +"Is that thy fantasy of a queen, Meg?" asked Clare, laughing. "Truly, I +had thought the poor lady should have heavier concernments than so." + +"Well!" said Blanche, in a confidential whisper, "I am never like to be +a queen; but I will show you one thing,--I would right dearly love to be +presented in the Queen's Majesty's Court." + +"Dear heart!--Presented, quotha!" exclaimed Margaret. "Prithee, take +not me withal." + +"Nay, I will take these holy sisters," said Blanche, merrily. "What say +ye, Clare and Lysken?" + +"I have no care to be in the Court, I thank thee," quietly replied +Clare. + +"I shall be, some day," observed Lysken, calmly, without lifting her +head. + +"Thou!--presented in the Court!" cried Blanche. + +For of all the five, girls, Lysken was much the most unlikely ever to +attain that eminence. + +"Even so," she said, unmoved. + +"Hast thou had promise thereof?" + +"I have had promise thereof," repeated Lysken, in a tone which was lost +upon Blanche, but Clare thought she began to understand her. + +"Who hath promised thee?" asked Blanche, intensely interested. + +"The King!" replied Lysken, with deep feeling. "And I shall be the +King's daughter!" + +"Lysken Barnevelt!" cried Blanche, dropping many of her flowers in her +excitement, "art thou gone clean wood [mad], or what meanest thou?" + +Lysken looked up with a smile full of meaning. + +"`Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you +faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy,--to the +only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty.'--Do but think,-- +faultless! and, before His glory!" + +Lysken's eyes were alight in a manner very rare with her. She was less +shy with her friends at Enville Court than with most people. + +"So that is what thou wert thinking on!" said Blanche, in a most +deprecatory manner. + +Lysken did not reply; but Clare whispered to her, "I would we might all +be presented there, Lysken." + +While the young ladies were thus engaged in debate, and Rachel was +listening to the complaints of old Lot's wife from the village, and +gravely considering whether the said Lot's rheumatism would be the +better for a basin of viper broth,--Sir Thomas Enville, who was +strolling in the garden, perceived two riders coming up to the house. +They were evidently a gentleman and his attendant serving-man, and as +soon as they approached near enough for recognition, Sir Thomas hurried +quickly to meet them. The Lord Strange, heir of Lathom and Knowsley, +must not be kept waiting. + +Only about thirty years had passed over the head of Ferdinand Stanley, +Lord Strange, yet his handsome features wore an expression of the +deepest melancholy. People who were given to signs and auguries said +that it presaged an early and violent death. And when, eight years +later, after only one year's tenancy of the earldom of Derby, he died of +a rapid, terrible, and mysterious disease, strange to all the physicians +who saw him, the augurs, though a little disappointed that he was not +beheaded, found their consolation in the conviction that he had been +undoubtedly bewitched. His father, Earl Henry, seems to have been a +cool, crafty time-server, who had helped to do the Duke of Somerset to +death, more than thirty years before, and one of whose few good actions +was his intercession with Bishop Bonner in favour of his kinsman, the +martyr Roger Holland. His mother was the great heiress Margaret +Clifford, who had inherited, before she was fifteen years of age, +one-third of the estates of Duke Charles of Suffolk, the wealthiest man +in England. + +"'Save you, my good Lord!" was Sir Thomas's greeting. "You be right +heartily welcome unto my poor house." + +"I have seen poorer," replied Lord Strange with a smile. + +"Pray your Lordship, go within." + +After a few more amenities, in the rather ponderous style of the +sixteenth century, Sir Thomas ceremoniously conducted his guest to Lady +Enville's boudoir. She sat, resplendent in blue satin slashed with +yellow, turning over some ribbons which Barbara Polwhele was displaying +for her inspection. The ribbons were at once dismissed when the noble +visitor appeared, and Barbara was desired to "do the thing she wot of in +the little chamber." + +The little chamber was a large, light closet, opening out of the +boudoir, with a window looking on the garden; and the doorway between +the rooms was filled by a green curtain. Barbara's work was to make up +into shoulder-knots certain lengths of ribbon already put aside for that +purpose. While the speakers, therefore, were to her invisible, their +conversation was as audible as if she had been in the boudoir. + +"And what news abroad, my good Lord?" asked Sir Thomas, when the usual +formal civilities were over. + +"Very ill news," said Lord Strange, sadly. + +"Pray your Lordship, what so? We hear none here, lying so far from the +Queen's highway." + +"What heard you the last?" + +"Well, methinks it were some strange matter touching the Scottish Queen, +as though she should be set to trial on charge of some matter of +knowledge of Babington's treason." + +Sir Thomas's latest news, therefore, was about seven months old. There +were no daily papers and Reuter's telegrams in his day. + +"Good Sir Thomas, you have much to hear," replied his guest. "For the +Scottish Queen, she is dead and buried,--beheaden at Fotheringay Castle, +in Yorkshire, these three months gone." + +"Gramercy!" + +"'Tis very true, I do ensure you. And would God that were the worst +news I could tell you!" + +"Pray your Lordship, speak quickly." + +"There be afloat strange things of private import:--to wit, of my +kinsman the Earl of Arundel, who, as 'tis rumoured, shall this next +month be tried by the Star Chamber, and, as is thought, if he 'scape +with life, shall be heavily charged in goods [Note 1]: or the Black +Assize at Exeter this last year, whereby, through certain Portugals that +were prisoners on trial, the ill smells did so infect the Court, [Note +2] that many died thereof--of the common people very many, and divers +men of worship,--among other Sir John Chichester of Raleigh, that you +and I were wont to know, and Sir Arthur Basset of Umberleigh--" + +Barbara Polwhele heard no more for a while. The name that had been last +mentioned meant, to Lord Strange and Sir Thomas, the head of a county +family of Devonshire, a gentleman of first-class blood. But to her it +meant not only the great-grandson of Edward the Fourth, and the heir of +the ruined House of Lisle,--but the bright-faced boy who, twenty-seven +years before, used to flash in and out of John Avery's house in the +Minories,--bringing "Aunt Philippa's loving commendations," or news that +"Aunt Bridget looketh this next week to be in the town, and will be rare +fain to see Mistress Avery:"--the boy who had first seen the light at +Calais, on the very threshold of the family woe--and who, to the Averys, +and to Barbara, as their retainer, was the breathing representative of +all the dead Plantagenets. As to the Tudors,--the Queen's Grace, of +course, was all that was right and proper, a brave lady and true +Protestant; and long might God send her to rule over England!--but the +Tudors, apart from Elizabeth personally, were--Hush! in 1587 it was +perilous to say all one thought. So for some minutes Lord Strange's +further news was unheard in the little chamber. A pathetic vision +filled it, of a night in which there would be dole at Umberleigh, when +the coffin of Sir Arthur Basset was borne to the sepulchre of his +fathers in Atherington Church. [Note 3.] He was not yet forty-six. +"God save and comfort Mistress Philippa!" + +For, eldest-born and last-surviving of her generation, in a green old +age, Philippa Basset was living still. Time had swept away all the +gallant brothers and fair sisters who had once been her companions at +Umberleigh: the last to die, seven years before, being the eloquent +orator, George. Yet Philippa lived on,--an old maiden lady, with heart +as warm, and it must be confessed, with tongue as sharp, as in the days +of her girlhood. Time had mellowed her slightly, but had changed +nothing in her but one--for many years had passed now since Philippa was +heard to sneer at Protestantism. She never confessed to any alteration +in her views; perhaps she was hardly conscious of it, so gradually had +it grown upon her. Only those perceived it who saw her seldom: and the +signs were very minute. A passing admission that "may-be folk need not +all be Catholics to get safe up yonder"--meaning, of course, to Heaven; +an absence of the set lips and knitted brows which had formerly attended +the reading of the English Scriptures in church; a courteous reception +of the Protestant Rector; a capability of praying morning and evening +without crucifix or rosary; a quiet dropping of crossings and holy +water, oaths by our Lady's merits and Saint Peter's hosen: a general +calm acquiescence in the new order of things. But how much did it mean? +Only that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the light?--or that age +had weakened her prejudices?--or that God had touched her heart? + +Some such thoughts were passing through Barbara's mind, when Lord +Strange's voice reached her understanding again. + +"I ensure you 'tis said in the Court that his grief for the beheading of +the Scots Queen is but a blind, [Note 4] and that these two years gone +and more hath King Philip been making ready his galleons for to invade +the Queen's Majesty's dominions. And now they say that we may look for +his setting forth this next year. Sir Francis Drake is gone by Her +Highness' command to the Spanish main, there to keep watch and bring +word; and he saith he will singe the Don's whiskers ere he turn again. +Yet he may come, for all belike." + +The singeing of the Don's whiskers was effected soon after, by the +burning of a hundred ships of war in the harbour of Cadiz. + +"Why, not a man in England but would turn out to defend the Queen and +country!" exclaimed Sir Thomas. + +"Here is one that so will, Sir, by your leave," said another voice. + +We may peep behind the green curtain, though Barbara did not. That +elegant young man with such finished manners--surely he can never be our +old and irrepressible friend Jack? Ay, Jack and no other; more courtly, +but as irrepressible as ever. + +"We'll be ready for him!" said Sir Thomas grimly. + +"Amen!" was Jack's contribution, precisely in the treble tones of the +parish clerk. The imitation was so perfect that even the grave Lord +Strange could not suppress a smile. + +"Shall I get thee a company, Jack Enville?" + +"Pray do so, my good Lord. I thank your Lordship heartily." + +"Arthur Tremayne is set on going, if it come to hot water--as seemeth +like enough." + +"Arthur Tremayne is a milksop, my Lord! I marvel what he means to do. +His brains are but addled eggs--all stuffed with Latin and Greek." + +Jack, of course, like the average country gentleman of his time, was a +profound ignoramus. What knowledge had been drilled into him in +boyhood, he had since taken pains to forget. He was familiar with the +punctilio of duelling, the code of regulations for fencing, the rules of +athletic sports, and the intricacies of the gaming-table; but anything +which he dubbed contemptuously "book-learning," he considered as far +beneath him as it really was above. + +"He will be as good for the Spaniards to shoot at as any other," +jocularly observed Sir Thomas. + +"Then pray you, let Lysken Barnevelt go!" said Jack soberly. "I warrant +you she'll stand fire, and never so much as ruffle her hair." + +"Well, I heard say Dame Mary Cholmondeley of Vale Royal, that an' the +men beat not back the Spaniards, the women should fight them with their +bodkins; wherewith Her Highness was so well pleased that she dubbed the +dame a knight then and there. My wife saith, an' it come to that, she +will be colonel of a company of archers of Lancashire. We will have +Mistress Barnevelt a lieutenant in her company." + +"My sister Margaret would make a good lieutenant, my Lord," suggested +Jack. "We'll send Aunt Rachel to the front, with a major's commission, +and Clare shall be her adjutant. As for Blanche, she may stand behind +the baggage and screech. She is good for nought else, but she'll do +that right well." + +"For shame, lad!" said Sir Thomas, laughing. + +"I heard her yesterday, Sir,--the occasion, a spider but half the size +of a pin head." + +"What place hast thou for me?" inquired Lady Enville, delicately +applying a scented handkerchief to her fastidious hose. + +"My dear Madam!" said Jack, bowing low, "you shall be the trumpeter sent +to give challenge unto the Spanish commandant. If he strike not his +colours in hot haste upon sight of you, then is he no gentleman." + +Lady Enville sat fanning herself in smiling complacency, No flattery +could be too transparent to please her. + +"I pray your Lordship, is any news come touching Sir Richard Grenville, +and the plantation which he strave to make in the Queen's Highness' +country of Virginia?" asked Sir Thomas. + +Barbara listened again with interest. Sir Richard Grenville was a +Devonshire knight, and a kinsman of Sir Arthur Basset. + +"Ay,--Roanoke, he called it, after the Indian name. Why, it did well +but for a time, and then went to wrack. But I do hear that he purposeth +for to go forth yet again, trusting this time to speed better." + +"What good in making plantations in Virginia?" demanded Jack, loftily. +"A wild waste, undwelt in save by savages, and many weeks' voyage from +this country,--what gentleman would ever go to dwell there?" + +"May-be," said Lord Strange thoughtfully, "when the husbandmen that +shall go first have made it somewhat less rough, gentlemen may be found +to go and dwell there." + +"Why, Jack, lad! This country is not all the world," observed his +father. + +"'Tis all of it worth anything, Sir," returned insular Jack. + +"Thy broom sweepeth clean, Jack," responded Lord Strange. "What, is +nought worth in France, nor in Holland,--let be the Emperor's dominions, +and Spain, and Italy?" + +"They be all foreigners, my Lord. And what better are foreigners than +savages? They be all Papists, to boot." + +"Not in Almayne, Jack,--nor in Holland." + +"Well, they speak no English," said prejudiced Jack. + +"That is a woeful lack," gravely replied Lord Strange. "Specially when +you do consider that English was the tongue that Noah spake afore the +flood, and the confusion of tongues at Babel." + +Jack knew just enough to have a dim perception that Lord Strange was +laughing at him. He got out of the difficulty by turning the +conversation. + +"Well, thus much say I: let the King of Spain come when he will, and +where, at every point of the coast there shall be an Englishman +awaiting--and we will drive him home thrice faster than he came at the +first." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. He was fined 10,000 pounds for contempt of court. What his +real offences were remains doubtful, beyond the fact that he was a +Papist, and had married against the will of the Queen. + +Note 2. The state of the gaols at this time, and for long afterwards, +until John Howard effected his reformation of them, was simply horrible. +The Black Assize at Exeter was by no means the only instance of its +land. + +Note 3. I stated in _Robin Tremayne_ that I had not been able to +discover the burial-place of Honor Viscountess Lisle. Since that time, +owing to the kindness of correspondents, personally unknown to me, I +have ascertained that she was probably buried at Atherington, with her +first husband, Sir John Basset. In that church his brass still +remains--a knight between two ladies--the coats of arms plainly showing +that the latter are Anne Dennis of Oxleigh and Honor Granville of Stow. +But the Register contains no entry of burial previous to 1570. + +Note 4. In the custody of the (Popish) Bishop of Southwark is a quarto +volume, containing, under date of Rome, April 28, 1588,--"An admonition +to the nobility and people of England and Ireland, concerning the +present warres made _for the execution of His Holiness' sentence_, by +the highe and mightie King Catholicke of Spaine: by the Cardinal of +England." [Cardinal Allen.]--(Third Report of Royal Commission of +Historical Manuscripts, page 233). + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. + +"His power secured thee, when presumptuous Spain Baptised her fleet +Invincible in vain; Her gloomy monarch, doubtful and resigned To every +pang that racks an anxious mind, Asked of the waves that broke upon his +coast, `What tidings?'--and the surge replied,--`All lost!'" + +_Cowper_. + +King Philip of Spain was coming at last. Every Englishman--ay, and +every woman and child in England--knew that now. + +When Drake returned home from "singeing the Don's whiskers," he told his +royal mistress that he believed the Spaniards would attempt serious +invasion ere long. But Elizabeth then laughed the idea to scorn. + +"They are not so ill-advised. But if they do come"--and Her Majesty +added her favourite oath--"I and my people will send them packing!" + +The Queen took measures to prepare her subjects accordingly, whether she +thought the invasion likely or not. All the clergy in the kingdom were +ordered to "manifest unto their congregations the furious purpose of the +Spanish King." There was abundant tinder ready for this match: for the +commonalty were wider awake to the danger than either Queen or Council. +The danger is equal now, and more insidious--from Rome, though not from +Spain--but alas! the commonalty are sleeping. + +Lord Henry Seymour was sent off to guard the seas, and to intercept +intercourse between Spain and her Flemish ports. The Earl of Leicester +was appointed honorary commander-in-chief, with an army of 23,000 foot +and 2352 horse, for the defence of the royal person: Lord Hunsdon, with +11,000 foot more, and 15,000 horse, was sent to keep guard over the +metropolis; and Charles Lord Howard of Effingham, Lord High Admiral of +England, was appointed to conduct the naval defence. + +It is the popular belief that Lord Howard was a Papist. He certainly +was a Protestant at a later period of his life; and though it is +doubtful whether positive evidence can be found to show his religious +views at the time of the invasion, yet there is reason to believe that +the popular idea is supported only by tradition. [See Appendix.] + +Tilbury, on the Thames, was chosen as the rendezvous for the land +forces. The Queen removed to Havering, which lay midway between her two +armies. It was almost, if not quite, the last time that an English +sovereign ever inhabited the old Saxon palace of Havering-atte-Bower. + +The ground around Tilbury was surveyed, trenches cut, Gravesend +fortified, and (taking pattern from Antwerp) a bridge of boats was laid +across the Thames, to stop the passage of the river. Calculations were +made as to the amount requisite to meet the Armada, and five thousand +men, with fifteen ships, were demanded from the city of London. The +Lord Mayor asked two days for consideration, and then requested that the +Queen would accept ten thousand men and thirty ships. The Dutch came +into the Thames with sixty sail--generous friends, who forgot in +England's hour of need that she had, only sixteen years before, refused +even bread and shelter in her harbours to their "Beggars of the Sea." +Noblemen joined the army and navy as volunteers, and in the ranks there +were no pressed men. There was one heart in all the land, from Berwick +to the Lizard. + +Lastly, a prayer was issued, to be used in all churches throughout the +kingdom, every Wednesday and Friday. But ecclesiastical dignitaries +were not called upon to write it. The Defender of the Faith herself +drew up the form, in a plain, decided style, which shows that she could +write lucidly when she liked it. This was Elizabeth's prayer. + +"We do instantly beseech Thee of Thy gracious goodness to be merciful to +the Church militant here upon earth, and at this time compassed about +with most strong and subtle adversaries. Oh let Thine enemies know that +Thou hast received England, which they most of all for Thy Gospel's sake +do malign, into Thine own protection. Set a wall about it, O Lord, and +evermore mightily defend it. Let it be a comfort to the afflicted, a +help to the oppressed, and a defence to Thy Church and people, +persecuted abroad. And forasmuch as this cause is new in hand, direct +and go before our armies both by sea and land. Bless them, and prosper +them, and grant unto them Thine honourable success and victory. Thou +art our help and shield. Oh give good and prosperous success to all +those that fight this battle against the enemies of Thy Gospel." +[Strype.] + +So England was ready. + +But Philip was ready too. He also, in his fashion, had been preparing +his subjects for work. Still maintaining an outward appearance of +friendship with Elizabeth, he quietly spread among his own people copies +of his pedigree, wherein he represented himself as the true heir to the +crown of England, by descent from his ancestresses Philippa and +Katherine of Lancaster: ignoring the facts--that, though the heir +general of Katherine, he was not so of her elder sister Philippa; and +that if he had been, the law which would have made these two sisters +heiresses presumptive had been altered while they were children. Beyond +this piece of subtlety, Philip allied himself with the Duke of Parma in +Italy, and the Duke of Guise [Note 1] in France; the plot being that the +Duke of Medina Sidonia, Commander-in-chief of the Armada, was to sail +first for Flanders, and take his orders from Parma: Guise was to land in +the west of England: some other leader, with 12,000 men, in Yorkshire: +while Philip himself, under shelter of the Armada, was to effect his +landing in Kent or Essex. Ireland was looked upon as certain to revolt +and assist. Parma harangued the troops destined to join the invading +force from Flanders, informing them that the current coin in England was +gold, only the very poorest using silver; the houses were full of money, +plate, jewellery, and wealth in all shapes. + +It is well to remember that England was no strange, unexplored land, at +least to the higher officers of the Armada. Philip himself had been +King of England for four years: the courtiers in his suite had lived +there for months together. Their exclamation on first journeying from +the coast to Winchester, twenty-three years before, had been that "the +poor of this land dwelt in hovels, and fared like princes!" They had +not forgotten it now. + +Lord Howard took up his station at Plymouth, whence he purposed to +intercept the Armada as it came; Sir Francis Drake was sent to the west +with sixty-five vessels. But time passed on, and no Armada came. The +English grew secure and careless. Many ships left the fleet, some +making for the Irish coast, some harbouring in Wales. The Queen +herself, annoyed at the needless cost, sent word to Lord Howard to +disband four of the largest vessels of the royal navy. The Admiral +disobeyed, and paid the expenses out of his own purse. England ought to +bless the memory of Charles Howard of Effingham. + +It was almost a shock when--suddenly, at last--Philip's ultimatum came. +Spain demanded three points from England: and if her demands were not +complied with, there was no resource but war. + +1. The Queen must promise to withdraw all aid from the Protestants in +the Netherlands. + +2. She must give back the treasure seized, by Drake the year before. + +3. She must restore the Roman Catholic religion throughout England, as +it had been before the Reformation. + +The first and second clauses would have been of little import in +Elizabeth's eye's, except as they implied her yielding to dictation; the +real sting lay in the last. And the last was the one which Philip would +be most loth to yield. With a touch of grim humour, His Catholic +Majesty sent his ultimatum in Latin verse. + +The royal lioness of England rose from her throne to return her answer, +with a fiery Plantagenet flash in her eyes. She could play at Latin +verse quite as well as Philip; rather better, indeed,--for his question +required some dozen lines, and one was sufficient for her answer. + +"Ad Graecas, [Note 2] bone Rex, fient mandata kalendas!" was the prompt +reply of England's Elizabeth. + +Which may be rendered--preserving the fun-- + + "Great King, thy command shall be done right soon, + On the thirty-first day of the coming June." + +Some knowledge of the terrible magnitude of Philip's preparations is +necessary, in order to see what it was which England escaped in 1588. +The Armada consisted of 134 ships, and, reckoning soldiers, sailors, and +galley-slaves, carried about 32,000 men. [The exact figures are much +disputed, hardly two accounts being alike.] The cost of sustenance per +day was thirty thousand ducats. The cannon and field-pieces were +unnumbered: the halberts were ten thousand, the muskets seven thousand. +Bread, biscuits, and wine, were laid in for six months, with twelve +thousand pipes of fresh water. The cargo--among many other items-- +consisted of whips and knives, for the conversion of the English; and +doubtless Don Martin Alorcon, Vicar-General of the Inquisition, with one +hundred monks and Jesuits in his train may be classed under the same +head. Heresy was to be destroyed throughout England: Sir Francis Drake +was singled out for special vengeance. The Queen was to be taken alive, +at all costs: she was to be sent prisoner over the Alps to Rome, there +to make her humble petition to the Pope, barefoot and prostrate, that +England might be re-admitted to communion with the Holy See. Did Philip +imagine that any amount of humiliation or coercion would have wrung such +words as these from the lips of Elizabeth Tudor? + +On the 19th of May, the Invincible Armada, as the Spaniards proudly +termed it, sailed from Lisbon for Corufia. + +The English Fleet lay in the harbour at Plymouth. The Admiral's ship +was the "Ark Royal;" Drake commanded the "Revenge:" the other principal +vessels were named the "Lion," the "Bear," the "Elizabeth Jonas," the +"Galleon Leicester," and the "Victory." They lay still in port waiting +for the first north wind, which did not come until the eighth of July. +Then Lord Howard set sail and went southwards for some distance; but the +wind changed to the south, the fleet was composed entirely of sailing +vessels, and the Admiral was afraid to go too far, lest the Armada +should slip past him in the night, between England and her wooden walls. +So he put back to Plymouth. + +If he had only known the state of affairs, he would not have done so. +He had been almost within sight of the Armada, which was at that moment +broken and scattered, having met with a terrific storm in the Bay of +Biscay. Eight ships were driven to a distance, three galleys cast away +on the French coast; where the galley-slaves rebelled, headed by a Welsh +prisoner named David Gwyn. Medina regained Coruna with some difficulty, +gathered his shattered vessels, repaired damages, and put to sea again +on the eleventh of July. They made haste this time. Eight days' hard +rowing brought them within sight of England. + +A blazing sun, and a strong south-west gale, inaugurated the morning of +the nineteenth of July. The fleet lay peacefully moored in Plymouth +Sound, all unconscious and unprophetic of what the day was to bring +forth: some of the officers engaged in calculating chances of future +battle, some eagerly debating home politics, some idly playing cards or +backgammon. These last averred that they had nothing to do. They were +not destined to make that complaint much longer. + +At one end of the quarter-deck of Drake's ship, the "Revenge," was a +group of three young officers, of whom two at least were not much more +profitably employed than those who were playing cards in the "Ark +Royal." They were all volunteers, and the eldest of the three was but +two-and-twenty. One was seated on the deck, leaning back and apparently +dozing; the second stood, less sleepily, but quite as idly, beside him: +the last, with folded arms, was gazing out to sea, yet discerning +nothing, for his thoughts were evidently elsewhere. The second of the +trio appeared to be in a musical humour, for snatches of different songs +kept coming from his lips. + + "`We be three poor mariners, + Newly come fro' th' seas: + We spend our lives in jeopardy, + Whilst others live at ease.'" + +"Be we?" laughed the youth who was seated on the deck, half-opening his +eyes. "How much of thy life hast spent in jeopardy, Jack Enville?" + +"How much? Did not I once fall into the sea from a rock?--and was +well-nigh drowned ere I could be fished out. More of my life than +thine, Master Robert Basset." + +In something like the sense of Thekla Tremayne's "Poor Jack!" I pause +to say, Poor Robert Basset! He was the eldest son of the deceased Sir +Arthur. He had inherited the impulsive, generous heart, and the +sensitive, nervous temperament, of his ancestor Lord Lisle, unchecked by +the accompanying good sense and sober judgment which had balanced those +qualities in the latter. Hot-headed, warm-hearted, liberal to +extravagance, fervent to fanaticism, unable to say No to any whom he +loved, loving and detesting with passionate intensity, constantly +betrayed into rash acts which he regretted bitterly the next hour, +possibly the next minute--this was Robert Basset. Not the same +character as Jack Enville, but one just as likely to go to wreck +early,--to dash itself wildly on the breakers, and be broken. + +"Thou art alive enough now," said Basset. "But how knowest that I never +fell from a rock into the sea?" + +Jack answered by a graceful flourish of his hands, and a stave of +another song. + + "`There's never a maid in all this town + But she knows that malt's come down, - + Malt's come down,--malt's come down, + From an old angel to a French crown.'" + +"I would it were," said Basset, folding his arms beneath his head. "I +am as dry as a hornblower." + +"That is with blowing of thine own trumpet," responded Jack. "I say, +Tremayne! Give us thy thoughts for a silver penny." + +"Give me the penny first," answered the meditative officer. + +"Haven't an obolus," [halfpenny] confessed Jack. + + "`The cramp is in my purse full sore, + No money will bide therein--'" + +"Another time," observed Arthur Tremayne, "chaffer [deal in trade] not +till thou hast wherewith to pay for the goods." + +"I am a gentleman, not a chapman," [a retail tradesman] said Jack, +superciliously. + +"Could a man not be both?" + +"'Tis not possible," returned Jack, with an astonished look. "How +should a chapman bear coat armour?" + +"I reckon, though, he had fathers afore him," said Basset, with his eyes +shut. + +"Nought but common men," said Jack, with sovereign contempt. + +"And ours were uncommon men--there is all the difference," retorted +Basset. + +"Yours were, in very deed," said Jack obsequiously. + +This was, in truth, the entire cause of Jack's desire for Basset's +friendship. The latter, poor fellow! imagined that he was influenced by +personal regard. + +"Didst think I had forgot it?" replied Basset, smiling. + +"Ah! if I had but thy lineage!" answered Jack. + +"Thine own is good enough, I cast no doubt. And I dare say Tremayne's +is worth something, if we could but win him to open his mouth thereon." + +Jack's look was one of complete incredulity. + +Arthur neither moved nor spoke. + +"Hold thou thy peace, Jack Enville," said Basset, answering the look, +for Jack had not uttered a word. "What should a Lancashire lad know of +the Tremaynes of Tremayne? I know somewhat thereanent.--Are you not of +that line?" he asked, turning his head towards Arthur. + +"Ay, the last of the line," said the latter quietly. + +"I thought so much. Then you must be somewhat akin unto Sir Richard +Grenville of Stow?" + +"Somewhat--not over near," answered Arthur, modestly. + +"Forty-seventh cousin," suggested Jack, not over civilly. + +"And to Courtenay of Powderham,--what?" + +"Courtenay!" broke in Jack. "What! he that, but for the attainder, +should be Earl of Devon?" + +"He," responded Basset, a little mischievously, "that cometh in a right +line from the Kings of France, and (through women) from the Emperors of +Constantinople." + +"What kin art thou to him?" demanded Jack, surveying his old playmate +from head to foot, with a sensation of respect which he had never felt +for him before. + +"My father's mother and his mother were sisters, I take it," said +Arthur. + +"Arthur Tremayne, how cometh it I never heard this afore?" + +"I cannot tell, Jack: thou didst never set me on recounting of my +pedigree, as I remember." + +"But wherefore not tell the same?" + +"What matter?" quietly responded Arthur. + +"`What matter'--whether I looked on thee as a mere parson's son, with +nought in thine head better than Greek and Latin, or as near kinsman of +one with very purple blood in him,--one that should be well-nigh Premier +Earl of England, but for an attainder?" + +Arthur passed by the slight offered alike to his father's profession and +to the classics, merely replying with a smile,--"I am glad if it give +thee pleasure to know it." + +"But tell me, prithee, with such alliance, what on earth caused Master +Tremayne to take to parsonry?" + +The contempt in which the clergy were held, for more than a hundred +years after this date, was due in all probability to two causes. The +first was the natural reaction from the overweening reverence anciently +felt for the sacerdotal order: when the _sacerdos_ was found to be but a +presbyter, his charm was gone. But the second was the disgrace which +had been brought upon their profession at large, by the evil lives of +the old priests. + +"I believe," said Arthur, gravely, "it was because he accounted the +household service of God higher preferment than the nobility of men." + +"Yet surely he knew how men would account of him?" + +"I misdoubt if he cared for that, any more than I do, Jack Enville." + +"Nor is thy mother any more than a parson's daughter." + +"My father, and my mother's father," said Arthur, his eyes flashing, +"were all but martyrs; for it was only the death of Queen Mary that +saved either from the martyr's stake. That is my lineage, Jack +Enville,--higher than Courtenay of Powderham." + +"Thou must be clean wood, Arthur!" said Jack, laughing. "Why, there +were poor chapmen and sely [simple] serving-maids among them that were +burnt in Queen Mary's days; weavers, bricklayers, and all manner of +common folk. There were rare few of any sort." [Of any consequence.] + +"They be kings now, whatso they were," answered Arthur. + +"There was a bishop or twain, Jack, if I mistake not," put in Basset, +yawning; "and a Primate of all England, without I dreamed it." + +"Go to, Jack!" pursued Arthur. "I can tell thee of divers craftsmen +that were very common folk--one Peter, a fisherman, and one Paul, a +tent-maker, and an handful belike--whose names shall ring down all the +ages, long after men have forgotten that there ever were Courtenays or +Envilles. I set the matter on thine own ground to say this." + +"Stand and deliver, Jack Enville! That last word hath worsted thee," +said Basset. + +"I am not an orator," returned Jack, loftily. "I am a gentleman." + +"Well, so am I, as I suppose, but I make not such ado thereof as thou," +answered Basset. + +The last word had only just escaped his lips, when Arthur Tremayne +stepped suddenly to the side of the vessel. + +"The Don ahead?" inquired Basset, with sleepy sarcasm. + +"I cannot tell what is ahead yet," said Arthur, concentrating his gaze +in an easterly direction. "But there is somewhat approaching us." + +"A sea-gull," was the suggestion of Basset, with shut eyes. + +"Scantly," said Arthur good-humouredly. + +Half idly, half curiously, jack brought his powers to bear on the +approaching object. Basset was not sufficiently interested to move. + +The object ere long revealed itself as a small vessel, rowing in all +haste, and evidently anxious to reach the fleet without losing an hour. +The "Revenge" stood out furthest of all the ships to eastward, and was +therefore likely to receive the little vessel's news before any other. +Almost before she came within speaking distance, at Arthur's request, +Jack hailed her--that young gentleman being in possession of more +stentorian lungs than his friend. + +The captain, who replied, was gifted with vocal powers of an equally +amazing order. He announced his vessel as the "Falcon," [Note 3] +himself as Thomas Fleming; and his news--enough to make every ear in the +fleet tingle--that "the Spaniard" had been sighted that morning off the +Lizard. Arthur darted away that instant in search of Drake: Jack and +Basset (both wide awake now) stayed to hear the details,--the latter +excited, the former sceptical. + +"'Tis all but deceiving!" sneered the incredulous Jack. "Thomas +Fleming! why, who wist not that Thomas Fleming is more pirate than +sea-captain, and that the `Falcon' is well enough known for no honest +craft?" + +"`Fair and soft go far in a day,'" returned Basset. "What if he be a +pirate? He is an Englishman. Even a known liar may speak truth." + +"As if the like of him should sight the Spaniard!" retorted Jack +magnificently, "when the whole fleet have scoured the seas in vain!" + +"The whole fleet were not scouring the seas at three of the clock this +morrow!" cried Basset, impatiently. "Hold thine idle tongue, and leave +us hear the news." And he shouted with all the power of his +lungs,--"What strength is he of?" + +"The strength of the very devil!" Fleming roared back. "Great wooden +castles, the Lord wot how many, and coming as fast as a bird flieth." + +"Pish!" said Jack. + +Basset was on the point of shouting another question, when Sir Francis +Drake's voice came, clear and sonorous, from no great distance. + +"What time shall the Don be hither?" + +"By to-morrow breaketh, as like as not," was Fleming's answer. + +"Now, my lads, we have work afore us," said Sir Francis, addressing his +young friends. "Lieutenant Enville, see that all hands know at once,-- +every man to his post! Tremayne, you shall have the honour to bear the +news to the Lord Admiral: and Basset, you shall fight by my side. I +would fain promote you all, an' I have the chance; allgates, I give you +the means to win honour, an' you wot how to use them." + +All the young men expressed their acknowledgment--Jack rather fulsomely, +Basset and Tremayne in a few quiet words. It was a decided advantage to +Jack and Arthur to have the chance of distinguishing themselves by "a +fair field and no favour." But was it any special preferment for the +great-grandson of Edward the Fourth? What glory would be added to his +name by "honourable mention" in Lord Howard's despatches, or maybe an +additional grade in naval rank? + +Did Robert Basset fail to see that? + +By no means. But he was biding his time. The chivalrous generosity, +which was one of the legacies of his Plantagenet forefathers, imposed +silence on him for a season. + +Elizabeth Tudor had shown much kindness to her kinsman, Sir Arthur +Basset, and while Elizabeth lived, no Basset of Umberleigh would lift a +hand against her. But no such halo surrounded her successor--whoever +that yet doubtful individual might prove to be. So Robert Basset +waited, and bore his humiliation calmly--all the more calmly for the +very pride of blood that was in him: for no slight, no oppression, no +lack of recognition, could make him other than the heir of the +Plantagenets. He would be ready when the hour struck. But meanwhile he +was waiting. + +Fleming's news had taken everybody by surprise except one person. But +that one was the Lord High Admiral. + +Lord Howard quickly gathered his fleet together, and inquired into its +condition. Many of the ships were poorly victualled; munition ran very +short; not a vessel was to be compared for size with the "great wooden +castles" which Fleming had described. The wind was south-west, and +blowing hard; the very wind most favourable to the invaders. + +Sir Edward Hoby, brother-in-law of the Admiral, was sent off to the +Queen with urgent letters, begging that she would send more aid to the +fleet, and put her land forces in immediate readiness, for "the +Spaniard" was coming at last, and as fast as the wind could bring him. + +Sir Edward reached Tilbury on the very day chosen by Elizabeth to review +her land forces. He left the fleet making signals of distress; he found +the army in triumphant excitement. + +The Queen rode in from Havering on a stately charger--tradition says a +white one--bearing a marshal's staff in her hand, and attired in a +costume which was a singular mixture of warrior and woman,--a corslet of +polished steel over an enormous farthingale. As she came near the +outskirts of her army, she commanded all her retinue to fall back, only +excepting Lord Ormonde, who bore the sword of state before her, and the +solitary page who carried her white-plumed helmet. Coming forward to +the front of Leicester's tent--the Earl himself leading her horse, +bare-headed--the Queen took up her position, and, with a wave of her +white-gloved hand for silence, she harangued her army. + +"My loving people,"--thus spoke England's Elizabeth,--"we have been +persuaded, by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we +commit ourself to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery. But I do +assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving +people. Let tyrants fear. I have alway so behaved myself, that under +God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts +and good-will of my subjects: and therefore I am come amongst you, as +you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being +resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you +all,--to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdoms, and for my people, +mine honour and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body of a +weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a +King of England too; and think foul scorn that Parma, or Spain, or any +prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm: to +which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take +up arms,--I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every +one of your virtues in the field. I know already for your forwardness +ye have deserved rewards and crowns: and we do assure you, on the word +of a prince, they shall, be duly paid you. For the meantime, my +Lieutenant General [Leicester] shall be in my stead, than whom never +prince commanded a more noble nor worthy subject. Not doubting but, by +your obedience to my General, by your concord in the camp, and your +valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these +enemies of my God, and of my kingdoms, and of my people." + +We are told that the soldiers responded unanimously-- + +"Is it possible that any Englishman can abandon such a glorious cause, +or refuse to lay down his life in defence of this heroic Princess?" + +The sentiment may be authentic, but the expression of it is modern. + +The speech over, Leicester reverently held the gilt stirrup, and +Elizabeth alighted from her white charger, and went into his pavilion to +dinner. + +Before the repast was over, Sir Edward Hoby arrived from Lord Howard. +He was taken at once to the tent, that the first freshness of his news +might be for the Queen's own ears. It had taken him three weeks to +reach Tilbury from Plymouth. Kneeling before the Queen, he reported +that he had been sent in all haste to entreat for "more aid sent to the +sea," for Medina was known to be coming, and that quickly. + +"Let him come!" was the general cry of the troops outside. + +"_Buenas horas, Senor_!" said the royal lady within, wishing good speed +to her adversary in his own tongue. + +And both meant the same thing,--"We are ready." + +It was England against the world. She had no ally, except the sixty +Dutch ships. And except, too, One who was invisible, but whom the winds +and the sea obeyed. + +The aid required by Lord Howard came: not from Elizabeth, but from +England. Volunteers poured in from every shire,--men in velvet gowns +and gold chains, men in frieze jackets and leather jerkins. The +"delicate-handed, dilettante" Earl of Oxford; the "Wizard" Earl of +Northumberland, just come to his title; the eccentric Earl George of +Cumberland; Sir Thomas Cecil, elder son of the Lord High Treasurer +Burleigh,--weak-headed, but true-hearted; Sir Robert Cecil, his younger +brother,--strong-headed and false-hearted; and lastly, a host in +himself, Sir Walter Raleigh, whose fine head and, great heart few of his +contemporaries appreciated at their true value,--and perhaps least of +all the royal lady whom he served. These men came in one by one. + +But the leather jerkins flocked in by hundreds; the men who were of no +account, whose names nobody cared to preserve, whose deeds nobody +thought of recording; yet who, after all, were England, and without whom +their betters would have made very poor head against the Armada. They +came, leaving their farms untilled, their forges cold, their axes and +hammers still. All that could wait till afterwards. Just now, England +must be saved. + +From all the coast around, provisions were sent in, both of food and +munition: here a stand of arms from the squire's armoury, there a batch +of new bread from the yeoman's farm: those who could send but a chicken +or a cabbage did not hold them back; there were some who had nothing to +give but themselves--and that they gave. Every atom was accepted: they +all counted for something in the little isle's struggle to keep free. + +It is the little things, after all, of which great things are made. Not +only the men who lined the decks of the "Ark Royal," but the women +ashore who baked their bread, and the children who gathered wood in the +forest for the ovens, were helping to save England. + +Even some Recusants--which meant Romanists--came in with offerings of +food, arms, and service: men who, in being Romanists, had not forgotten +that they were Englishmen. + +About noon on the twentieth of July, the Armada was first sighted from +Plymouth. She was supposed at first to be making direct, for that town. +But she passed it, and bore on eastward. It was evident now that she +meant to make for the Channel,--probably meant to use as a basis of +operations, Calais--England's own Calais, for the loss of which her +heart was sore yet. + +Lord Howard followed as closely as was consistent with policy. And now +appeared the disadvantage of the immense vessels which formed the bulk +of the Armada. The English ships, being smaller, were quicker; they +could glide in and out with ease, where the "great wooden castles" found +bare standing-room. Before the Armada could reach Calais Roads, early +on the 21st of July, Lord Howard was upon her. + +When she saw her pursuers, she spread forth in a crescent form, in which +she was seven miles in length. Trumpets were sounded, drums beaten-- +everything was done to strike terror into the little English fleet. + +"_Santiago de Compostella_!" was the cry from the Armada. + +"God and Saint George for merry England!" came back from the "Ark +Royal." + +Both navies struggled hard to get to windward. But the Spanish ships +were too slow and heavy. The English won the coveted position. The +"Revenge" was posted as light-bearer, for night was coming on, and the +"Ark Royal," followed by the rest of the fleet, dashed into the midst of +the Armada. + +Sir Francis Drake made a terrible blunder. Instead of keeping to the +simple duty allotted to him, he went off after five large vessels, which +he saw standing apart, and gave them chase for some distance. Finding +them innocent Easterlings, or merchantmen of the Hanse Towns, he ran +hastily back, to discover that in his absence Lord Howard had most +narrowly escaped capture, having mistaken the Spanish light for the +English. + +"'Tis beyond any living patience!" cried Robert Basset fierily to Arthur +Tremayne. "Here all we might have hit some good hard blows at the +Spaniard, and to be set to chase a covey of miserable Easterlings!" + +"'Twas a misfortunate blunder," responded Arthur more quietly. + +After two hours' hard fighting, the Admiral, finding his vessels too +much scattered, called them together, tacked, and lay at anchor until +morning. It certainly was enough to disappoint men who were longing for +"good hard blows," when the "Revenge" rejoined the fleet only just in +time to hear the order for retreat. Fresh reinforcements came in during +the night. When day broke on the 22nd, Lord Howard divided his fleet +into four squadrons. He himself commanded the first, Drake the second, +Hawkins the third, and Frobisher the fourth. The wind was now north. + +The Armada went slowly forward; and except for the capture of one large +Venetian ship, nothing was done until the 25th. Then came a calm, +favourable to the Spaniards, who were rowing, while the English trusted +to their sails. When the Armada came opposite the Isle of Wight, Lord +Howard again gave battle. + +This time the "Revenge" was engaged, and in the van. While the battle +went on, none knew who might be falling: but when the fleet was at last +called to anchor--after a terrible encounter--Basset and Tremayne met +and clasped hands in congratulation. + +"Where is Enville?" asked the former. + +Arthur had seen nothing of him. Had he fallen? + +The day passed on--account was taken of the officers and crew--but +nothing was to be heard of Jack Enville. + +About half an hour later, Arthur, who had considerably distinguished +himself in the engagement, was resting on deck, looking rather sadly out +to sea, and thinking of Jack, when Basset came up to him, evidently +struggling to suppress laughter. + +"Prithee, Tremayne, come below with me one minute." + +Arthur complied, and Basset led him to the little cabin which the three +young officers occupied together. + +"Behold!" said Basset grandiloquently, with a flourish of his hand +towards the berths. "Behold, I beseech you, him that hath alone routed +the Spaniard, swept the seas, saved England, and covered him with glory! +He it is whose name shall live in the chronicles of the time! He shall +have a statue--of gingerbread--in the court of Her Majesty's Palace of +Westminster, and his name shall be set up--wrought in white goose +feathers--on the forefront of Paul's! Hail to the valiant and +unconquerable Jack Enville, the deliverer of England from Pope and +Spaniard!" + +To the great astonishment of Arthur, there lay the valiant Jack, rolled +in a blanket, apparently very much at his ease: but when Basset's +peroration was drawing to a close, he unrolled himself, looking rather +red in the face, and returned to ordinary life by standing on the floor +in full uniform. + +"Hold thy blatant tongue for an ass as thou art!" was his civil reply to +Basset's lyric on his valour. "If I did meet a wound in the first flush +of the fray, and came down hither to tend the same, what blame lieth +therein?" + +"Wert thou wounded, Jack?" asked Arthur. + +"Too modest belike to show it," observed Basset. "Where is it, trow? +Is thy boot-toe abrased, or hast had five hairs o' thine head carried +away?" + +"'Tis in my left wrist," said Jack, replying to Arthur, not Basset. + +"Prithee, allow us to feast our eyes on so glorious a sign of thy +valiantness!" said Basset. + +Jack was extremely reluctant to show his boasted wound; but being +pressed to do so by both his friends (from different motives) he +exhibited something which looked like a severe scratch from a cat. + +"Why, 'tis not much!" said Arthur, who could have shown several worse +indications of battle on himself, which he had not thought worth notice. + +"Oh, is it not?" muttered Jack morosely. "I can tell thee, 'tis as +sore--" + +"Nay, now, wound not yet again the great soul of the hero!" put in +Basset with grim irony. "If he lie abed i' th' day for a wound to his +wrist, what shall he do for a stab to his feelings? You shall drive him +to drown him in salt water; and that were cruelty unheard-of, for it +should make his eyes smart. I tell thee what, Jack Enville--there is +_one_ ass aboard the fleet, and his name is neither Arthur Tremayne +nor--saving your presence--Robin Basset. Farewell! I go to win a +laurel crown from Sir Francis by bearing news unto him of thy heroical +deeds." + +And away marched Basset, much to the relief of Jack. + +The encounter of that day had been fearful. But when Lord Howard drew +off to recruit himself, the Armada gathered her forces together, went +forward, and cast anchor on the 27th in Calais Roads. + +Here fresh orders reached her from Parma. Instead of skirmishing in the +Channel, she was to assume the offensive at once. Within three days +Medina must land in England. King Philip appears to have resigned his +original intention of making the attack in person. + +The Armada prepared for the final struggle. The young gentlemen on +board meantime amused themselves by shouting sundry derisive songs, one +of which was specially chosen when the "Revenge" was sufficiently near +to be aggrieved by it: and Arthur, who had learned enough Spanish from +his mother to act as translator, rendered the ditty into plain English +prose for the benefit of Jack and Basset. The former received it with +lofty scorn,--the latter with fiery vaticinations concerning his +intentions when the ships should meet: and looking at the figure-head of +the nearest vessel whence the song was shouted, he singled out "La +Dolorida" for his special vengeance. A translation of the lyric in +question is appended. [Note 4.] The speaker, it will be seen, is +supposed to be a young Spanish lady. + + "My brother Don John + To England is gone, + To kill the Drake, + And the Queen to take, + And the heretics all to destroy; + And he has promised + To bring to me + A Lutheran boy + With a chain round his neck: + And Grandmamma + From his share shall have + A Lutheran maid + To be her slave." + +The prospect was agreeable. One thing was plain--that "the Don" had +acquired a wholesome fear of "the Drake." + +Sunday was the 28th: and on that morning it became evident that Medina +meant mischief. The seven-mile crescent was slowly, but surely, closing +in round Dover. The Spaniard was about to land. Lord Howard called a +council of war: and a hasty resolution was taken. Eight gunboats were +cleared out; their holds filled with combustible matter; they were set +on fire, and sent into the advancing Armada. The terror of the +Spaniards was immense. They fancied it Greek fire, such as had wrought +fearful havoc among them at the siege of Antwerp. With shrieks of "The +fire of Antwerp!--The fire of Antwerp!"--the Armada fell into disorder, +and the vessels dispersed on all sides in the wildest confusion. Lord +Howard followed in chase of Medina. + +Even yet the Armada might have rallied and renewed the attack. But now +the wind began to blow violently from the south. The galleys could make +no head against it. Row as they would, they were hurried northward, the +English giving chase hotly. The Spanish ships were driven hither and +thither, pursued alike by the winds and the foe. One of the largest +galleons ran ashore at Calais--from which the spoil taken was fifty +thousand ducats--one at Ostend, several in different parts of Holland. +Don Antonio de Matigues escaped from the one which ran aground at +Calais, and carried back to Philip, like the messengers of Job, the news +that he only had escaped to tell the total loss of the Invincible +Armada. But the loss was not quite so complete. Medina was still +driving northward before the gale, with many of his vessels, chased by +the "Ark Royal" and her subordinates. He tried hard to cast anchor at +Gravelines; but Lord Howard forced him away. Past Dunquerque ran the +shattered Armada, with her foe in hot pursuit. There was one danger +left, and until that peril was past, Lord Howard would not turn back. +If Medina had succeeded in landing in Scotland,--which the Admiral fully +expected him to attempt--the numerous Romanists left in that country, +and the "Queensmen," the partisans of the beheaded Queen, would have +received him with open arms. This would have rendered the young King's +[James the Sixth, of Scotland] tenure of power very uncertain, and might +not improbably have ended in an invasion of the border by a +Scoto-Spanish army. But Lord Howard did not know that no thought of +victory now animated Medina. The one faint hope within him was to reach +home. + +Internal dissensions were now added to the outward troubles of the +Spaniards. Seven hundred English prisoners banded themselves under +command of Sir William Stanley, and turned upon their gaolers. The +Armada spread her sails, and let herself drive faster still. +Northwards, ever northwards! It was the only way left open to Spain. + +For four days the "Ark Royal" kept chase of the miserable relics of this +once-grand Armada. When the Orkneys were safely passed, Lord Howard +drew off, leaving scouts to follow Medina, and report where he went. If +he had gone on for two days longer, he would not have had a charge of +powder left. + +Five thousand Spaniards had been killed; a much larger number lay +wounded or ill; twelve of the most important ships were lost; provisions +failed them; the fresh water was nearly all spent. One of the galleons +ran aground at Fair Isle, in the Shetlands, where relics are still kept, +and the dark complexions of the natives show traces of Spanish blood. +The "Florida" was wrecked on the coast of Morven--where her shattered +hulk lies yet. Medina made his way between the Faroe Isles and Iceland, +fled out to the high seas, and toiled past Ireland home. The rest of +the fleet tried to reach Cape Clear. Forty-one were lost off the coast +of Ireland: many driven by the strong west wind into the English +Channel, where they were taken, some by the English, some by the +Rochellois: a few gained Neubourg in Normandy. Out of 134 ships, above +eighty were total wrecks. + +So ended the Invincible Armada. + +England fought well. But it was not England who was the conqueror, +[Note 5] but the south wind and the west wind of God. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. This was the same Duke of Guise who took an active part in the +Massacre of Saint Bartholomew. He was assassinated at Blois, December +23, 1588--less than six months after the invasion of the Armada. + +Note 2. The Greeks did not reckon by kalends. The Romans, who did, +when they meant to refuse a request good-humouredly, said jokingly that +it should be granted "in the Greek kalends." + +Note 3. The name of Fleming's vessel does not appear. + +Note 4. I am not responsible for this translation, nor have I met with +the original. + +Note 5. No one was more thoroughly persuaded of this than Elizabeth +herself. Thirteen years afterwards, at the opening of her last +Parliament, the Speaker thought proper to remark that England had been +defended from all dangers that had attacked her by "the mighty arm of +our dread and sacred Queen." An unexpected voice from the throne +rebuked him. "No, Mr Speaker: by the mighty hand of God." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +THE WRECK OF THE "DOLORIDA." + + "And therefore unto this poor child of Eve + The thing forbidden was the one thing wanting, + Without which all the rest were dust and ashes." + +"Heardst ever the like of the gale this night, Barbara?" asked Blanche, +as she stood twisting up her hair before the mirror, one morning towards +the close of August. + +"'Twas a cruel rough night, in sooth," was the answer. "Yet the wind is +westerly. God help the poor souls that were on the sea this night! +They must have lacked the same." + +"'Twas ill for the Spaniard, I reckon," said Blanche lightly. + +"'Twas ill for life, Mistress Blanche," returned Barbara, gravely. +"There be English on the wild waters, beside Spaniards. The Lord avert +evil from them!" + +"Nay, I go not about to pray that ill be avoided from those companions," +retorted Blanche in scorn. "They may drown, every man of them, for +aught I care." + +"They be some woman's childre, every man," was Barbara's reply. + +"O Blanche!" interposed Clare, reproachfully. "Do but think of their +childre at home: and the poor mothers that are watching in the villages +of Spain for their lads to come back to them! How canst thou wish them +hurt?" + +"How touching a picture!" said Blanche in the same tone. + +"In very deed, I would not by my good-will do them none ill," responded +Barbara; "I would but pray and endeavour myself that they should do none +ill to me." + +"How should they do thee ill, an' they were drowned?" laughed Blanche. + +The girl was not speaking her real sentiments. She was neither cruel +nor flinty-hearted, but was arguing and opposing, as she often did, +sheerly from a spirit of contradiction, and a desire to astonish her +little world; Blanche's vanity was of the Erostratus character. While +she longed to be liked and admired, she would have preferred that people +should think her disagreeable, rather than not think of her at all. + +"But, Blanche," deprecated Clare, who did not enter into this +peculiarity of her sister, "do but fancy, if one of these very men did +seek thy gate, all wet and weary and hungered, and it might be maimed in +the storm, without so much as one penny in his pocket for to buy him +fire and meat--thou wouldst not shut the door in his face?" + +"Nay, truly, for I would take a stout cudgel and drive him thence." + +"O Blanche!" + +"O Clare!" said Blanche mockingly. + +"I could never do no such a thing," added Clare, in a low tone. + +"What, thou wouldst lodge and feed him?" + +"Most surely." + +"Then shouldst thou harbour the Queen's enemy." + +"I should harbour mine own enemy," said Clare. "And thou wist who bade +us, `If thine enemy hunger, feed him.'" + +"Our Lord said that to His disciples." + +"And are not we His disciples?" + +"Gramercy, maiden! Peter, and John, and Andrew, and the like. 'Twas +never meant for folk in these days?" + +"Marry La'kin! What say you, Mistress Blanche?--that God's Word was not +meant for folk now o' days?" + +"Oh ay,--some portion thereof." + +"Well-a-day! what will this world come to? I was used to hear say, in +Queen Mary's days, that the great Council to London were busy undoing +what had been done in King Harry's and King Edward's time: but I ne'er +heard that the Lord had ta'en His Word in pieces, and laid up an handful +thereof as done withal." + +"Barbara, thou hast the strangest sayings!" + +"I cry you mercy, Mistress mine,--'tis you that speak strangely." + +"Come hither, and help me set this edge of pearl. Prithee, let such +gear a-be. We be no doctors of the schools, thou nor I." + +"We have souls to be saved, Mistress Blanche." + +"Very well: and we have heads to be dressed likewise. Tell me if this +cap sit well behind; I am but ill pleased withal." + +Heavy rapid steps came down the corridor, and with a hasty knock, Jennet +put her head in at the door. + +"Mrs Blanche! Mrs Clare! If you 'll none miss th' biggest sight ever +you saw, make haste and busk [dress] you, and come down to hall. +There's th' biggest ship ever were i' these parts drove ashore o' Penny +Bank. Th' Master, and Dick, and Sim, and Abel 's all gone down to th' +shore, long sin'." + +"What manner of ship, Jennet?" asked both the girls at once. + +"I'm none fur learnt i' ships," said Jennet, shaking her head. "Sim +said 'twere a Spaniard, and Dick said 'twere an Englishman; and Abel +bade 'em both hold their peace for a pair o' gaumless [stupid] noodles." + +"But what saith my father?" cried excited Blanche, who had forgotten all +about the fit of her cap. + +"Eh, bless you!--he's no noodle: Why, he said he'd see 't afore he told +anybody what 't were." + +"Barbara, be quick, dear heart, an' thou lovest me. Let the cap be; +only set my ruff.--Jennet! can we see it hence?" + +"You'll see 't off th' end o' th' terrace, right plain afore ye," said +Jennet, and summarily departed. + +There was no loitering after that. In a very few minutes the two girls +were dressed, Blanche's ruff being satisfactory in a shorter time than +Barbara could ever remember it before. Clare stayed for her prayers, +but Blanche dashed off without them, and made her way to the end of the +terrace, where her sister presently joined her. + +"She is a Spaniard!" cried Blanche, in high excitement. "Do but look on +her build, Clare. She is not English-built, as sure as this is Venice +ribbon." + +Clare disclaimed, with a clear conscience, all acquaintance with +shipbuilding, and declined even to hazard a guess as to the nationality +of the ill-fated vessel. But Blanche was one of those who must be (or +seem to be; either will do) conversant with every subject under +discussion. So she chattered on, making as many blunders as assertions, +until at last, just at the close of a particularly absurd mistake, she +heard a loud laugh behind her. + +"Well done, Blanche!" said her father's voice. "I will get thee a ship, +my lass. Thou art as fit to be a sea-captain, and come through a storm +in the Bay of Biscay, as--thy popinjay." [Parrot.] + +"O Father, be there men aboard yonder ship?" said Clare, earnestly. + +"Ay, my lass," he replied, more gravely. "An hundred and seventy +souls--there were, last night, Clare." + +"And what?"--Clare's face finished the question. + +"There be nine come ashore," he added in the same tone. + +"And the rest, Father?" asked Clare piteously. + +"Drowned, my lass, every soul, in last night's storm." + +"O Father, Father!" cried Clare's tender heart. + +"Good lack!" said Blanche. "Is she English, Father?" + +"The Dolorida, of Cales, [Cadiz] my maid." + +"Spanish!" exclaimed Blanche, her excitement returning. "And what be +these nine men, Father?" + +"There be two of them poor galley-slaves; two sailors; and four +soldiers, of the common sort. No officers; but one young gentleman, of +a good house in Spain, that was come abroad for his diversion, and to +see the sight." + +"Who is this gentleman, Father?--What manner of man is he?" + +Sir Thomas was a little amused by the eagerness of his daughter's +questions. + +"His name is Don John de Las Rojas, [a fictitious person] Mistress +Blanche,--of a great house and ancient, as he saith, in Andalusia: and +as to what manner of man,--why, he hath two ears, and two eyes, and one +nose, and I wis not how many teeth--" + +"Now prithee, Father, mock me not! Where is her--" + +"What shouldest say, were I to answer, In a chamber of Enville Court?" + +"Here, Father?--verily, here? Shall I see him?" + +"That hangeth on whether thine eyes be shut or open. Thou must tarry +till he is at ease." + +"At ease!--what aileth him?" + +Sir Thomas laughed. "Dost think coming through a storm at sea as small +matter as coming through a gate on land? He hath 'scaped rarely well; +there is little ails him save a broken arm, and a dozen or so of hard +bruises; but I reckon a day or twain will pass ere it shall be to his +conveniency to appear in thy royal presence, my Lady Blanche." + +"But what chamber hath he?--and who is with him?--Do tell me all +thereabout." + +"Verily, curiosity is great part of Eve's legacy to her daughters. +Well, an' thou must needs know, he is in the blue chamber; and thine +aunt and Jennet be with him; and I have sent Abel to Bispham after the +leech. [Doctor.] What more, an't like the Lady Blanche?" + +"Oh, what like is he?--and how old?--and is he well-favoured?--and--" + +"Nay, let me have them by threes at the most. He is like a young man +with black hair and a right wan face.--How old? Well, I would guess, +an' he were English, something over twenty years; but being Spanish, +belike he is younger than so.--Well-favoured? That a man should look +well-favoured, my Lady Blanche, but now come off a shipwreck, and his +arm brake, and after fasting some forty hours,--methinks he should be a +rare goodly one. Maybe a week's dieting and good rest shall better his +beauty." + +"Hath he any English?" + +"But a little, and that somewhat droll: yet enough to make one conceive +his wants. His father and mother both, he told me, were of the Court +when King Philip dwelt here, and they have learned him some English for +this his journey." + +"Doth his father live?" + +"Woe worth the day! I asked him not. I knew not your Grace should +desire to wit it." + +"And his mother? Hath he sisters?" + +"Good lack! ask at him when thou seest him. Alack, poor lad!--his work +is cut out, I see." + +"But you have not told me what shall come of them." + +"I told thee not! I have been answering thy questions thicker than any +blackberries. My tongue fair acheth; I spake not so much this week +past." + +"How do you mock me, Father!" + +"I will be sad as a dumpling, my lass. I reckon, Mistress, all they +shall be sent up to London unto the Council, without there come command +that the justices shall deal with them." + +"And what shall be done to them?" + +"Marry, an' I had my way, they should be well whipped all round, and +packed off to Spain. Only the galley-slaves, poor lads!--they could not +help themselves." + +"Here 's the leech come, Master," said Jennet, behind them. + +Sir Thomas hastened back into the house, and the two sisters followed +more slowly. + +"Oh, behold Aunt Rachel!" said Blanche. "She will tell us somewhat." + +Now, only on the previous evening, Rachel had been asserting, in her +strongest and sternest manner, that nothing,--no, nothing on earth!-- +should ever make her harbour a Spaniard. They were one and all "evil +companions;" they were wicked Papists; they were perturbators of the +peace of our Sovereign Lady the Queen; hanging was a luxury beyond their +deserts. It might therefore have been reasonably expected that Rachel, +when called upon to serve one of these very obnoxious persons, would +scornfully refuse assistance, and retire to her own chamber in the +capacity of an outraged Briton. But Rachel, when she spoke in this way, +spoke in the abstract, with a want of realisation. When the +objectionable specimen of the obnoxious mass lifted a pair of suffering +human eyes to her face, the ice thawed in a surprisingly sudden manner +from the surface of her flinty heart, and the set lips relaxed into an +astonishingly pitying expression. + +Blanche, outwardly decorous, but with her eyes full of mischief, walked +up to Rachel, and desired to know how it fared with the Spanish +gentleman. + +"Poor lad! he is in woeful case!" answered the representative of the +enraged British Lion. "What with soul and body, he must have borne +well-nigh the pangs of martyrdom this night. 'Tis enough to make one's +heart bleed but to look on him. And to hear him moan to himself of his +mother, poor heart! when he thinks him alone--at least thus I take his +words: I would, rather than forty shillings, she were nigh to tend him." + +From which speech it will be seen that when Rachel did "turn coat," she +turned it inside out entirely. + +"Good lack, Aunt Rachel! what is he but an evil companion?" demanded +irreverent Blanche, with her usual want of respect for the opinions of +her elders. + +"If he were the worsest companion on earth, child, yet the lad may lack +his wounds dressed," said Rachel, indignantly. + +"And a Papist!" + +"So much the rather should we show him the betterness of our Protestant +faith, by Christian-wise tending of him." + +"And an enemy!" pursued Blanche, proceeding with the list. + +"Hold thy peace, maid! Be we not bidden in God's Word to do good unto +our enemies?" + +"And a perturbator of the Queen's peace, Aunt Rachel!" + +"This young lad hath not much perturbed the Queen's peace, I warrant," +said Rachel, uneasily,--a dim apprehension of her niece's intentions +crossing her mind at last. + +"Nay, but hanging is far too good for him!" argued Blanche, quoting the +final item. + +"Thou idle prating hussy!" cried Rachel, turning hastily round to face +her,--vexed, and yet laughing. "And if I have said such things in mine +heat, what call hast thou to throw them about mine ears? Go get thee +about thy business." + +"I have no business, at this present, Aunt Rachel." + +"Lack-a-daisy! that a cousin [then used in the general sense of +relative] of mine should say such a word! No business, when a barrelful +of wool waiteth the carding, and there is many a yard of flax, to be +spun, and cordial waters to distil, and a full set of shirts to make for +thy father, and Jack's gown to guard [trim] anew with lace, and thy +mother's new stomacher--" + +"Oh, mercy, Aunt Rachel!" cried lazy Blanche, putting her hands over her +ears. + +But Mistress Rachel was merciless--towards Blanche. + +"No business, quotha!" resumed that astonished lady. "And Margaret's +winter's gown should, have been cut down ere now into a kirtle, and +Lucrece lacketh both a hood and a napron, and thine own partlets have +not yet so much as the first stitch set in them. No business! Prithee, +stand out of my way, Madam Idlesse, for I have no time to spend in +twirling of my thumbs. And when thou find thy partlets rags, burden not +me withal. No business, by my troth!" + +Muttering which, Rachel stalked away, while Blanche, instead of fetching +needle and thread, and setting to work on her new ruffs, fled into the +garden, and ensconcing herself at the foot of the ash-tree, gazed up at +the windows of the blue chamber, and erected magnificent castles in the +air. Meanwhile, Clare, who had heard Rachel's list of things waiting to +be done, and had just finished setting the lace upon Jack's gown, +quietly possessed herself of a piece of fine lawn, measured off the +proper length, and was far advanced in one of Blanche's neglected ruffs +before that young lady sauntered in, when summoned by the +breakfast-bell. + +The leech thought well of the young Spaniard's case. The broken arm was +not a severe fracture--"right easy to heal," said he in a rather +disappointed manner; the bruises were nothing but what would disappear +with time and one of Rachel's herbal lotions. In a few weeks, the young +man might expect to be fully recovered. And until that happened, said +Sir Thomas, he should remain at Enville Court. + +But the other survivors of the shipwreck did not come off so easily. On +the day after it, one of the soldiers and one of the galley-slaves died. +The remaining galley-slave, a Moorish prisoner, very grave and silent, +and speaking little Spanish; the two sailors, of whom one was an +Italian; and one of the soldiers, were quartered in the glebe barn--the +rest in one of Sir Thomas Enville's barns. Two of the soldiers were +Pyrenees men, and spoke French. All of them, except the Moor and the +Italian, were possessed by abject terror, expecting to be immediately +killed, if not eaten. The Italian, who was no stranger to English +people, and into whose versatile mind nothing sank deep, was the only +blithe and cheerful man in the group. The Moor kept his feelings and +opinions to himself. But the others could utter nothing but +lamentations, "_Ay de mi_!" [alas for me] and "_Soy muerto_!" +[literally, "I am dead"--a common lamentation in Spain.] with mournful +vaticinations that their last hour was at hand, and that they would +never see Spain again. Sir Thomas Enville could just manage to make +himself understood by the Italian, and Mr Tremayne by the two +Pyreneans. No one else at Enville Court spoke any language but English. +But Mrs Rose, a Spanish lady's daughter, who had been accustomed to +speak Spanish for the first twenty years of her life; and Mrs Tremayne, +who had learned it from her; and Lysken Barnevelt, who had spoken it in +her childhood, and had kept herself in practice with Mrs Rose's help-- +these three went in and out among the prisoners, interpreted for the +doctor, dressed the wounds, cheered the down-hearted men, and at last +persuaded them that Englishmen were not cannibals, and that it was not +certain they would all be hung immediately. + +There was one person at Enville Court who would have given much to be a +fourth in the band of helpers. Clare was strongly disposed to envy her +friend Lysken, and to chafe against the bonds of conventionalism which +bound her own actions. She longed to be of some use in the world; to +till some corner of the vineyard marked out specially for her; to find +some one for whom, or something for which she was really wanted. Of +course, making and mending, carding and spinning, distilling and +preserving, were all of use: somebody must do them. But somebody, in +this case, meant anybody. It was not Clare who was necessary. And +Lysken, thought Clare, had deeper and higher work. She had to deal with +human hearts, while Clare dealt only with woollen and linen. Was there +no possibility that some other person could see to the woollen and +linen, and that Clare might be permitted to work with Lysken, and help +the human hearts as well? + +But Clare forgot one essential point--that a special training is needed +for work of this kind. Cut a piece of cambric wrongly, and after all +you do but lose the cambric: but deal wrongly with a human heart, and +terrible mischief may ensue. And this special training Lysken had +received, and Clare had never had. Early privation and sorrow had been +Lysken's lesson-book. + +Clare found no sympathy in her aspirations. She had once timidly +ventured a few words, and discovered quickly that she would meet with no +help at home. Lady Enville was shocked at such notions; they were both +unmaidenly and communistic: had Clare no sense of what was becoming in a +knight's step-daughter? Of course Lysken Barnevelt was nobody; it did +not matter what she did. Rachel bade her be thankful that she was so +well guarded from this evil world, which was full of men, and that was +another term for wild beasts and venomous serpents. Margaret could not +imagine what Clare wanted; was there not enough to do at home? Lucrece +was demurely thankful to Providence that she was content with her +station and circumstances. Blanche was half amused, and half disgusted, +at the idea of having anything to do with those dirty stupid people. + +So Clare quietly locked up her little day-dream in her own heart, and +wished vainly that she had been a clergyman's daughter. Before her eyes +there rose a sunny vision of imaginary life at the parsonage, with Mr +and Mrs Tremayne for her parents, Arthur and Lysken for her brother and +sister, and the whole village for her family. The story never got far +enough for any of them to marry; in fact, that would have spoilt it. +Beyond the one change of place, there were to be no further changes. No +going away; no growing old; "no cares to break the still repose," except +those of the villagers, who were to be petted and soothed and helped +into being all good and happy. Beyond that point, Clare's dream did not +go. + +Let her dream on a little longer,--poor Clare! She was destined to be +rudely awakened before long. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +COSITAS DE ESPANA. + + "On earth no word is said, I ween, + But's registered in Heaven: + What's here a jest, is there a sin + Which may never be forgiven." + +Blanche Enville sat on the terrace, on a warm September afternoon, with +a half-finished square of wool-work in her hand, into which she was +putting a few stitches every now and then. She chose to imagine herself +hard at work; but it would have fatigued nobody to count the number of +rows which she had accomplished since she came upon the terrace. The +work which Blanche was really attending to was the staple occupation of +her life,--building castles in the air. At various times she had played +all manner of parts, from a captive queen, a persecuted princess, or a +duchess in disguise, down to a fisherman's daughter saving a vessel in +danger by the light in her cottage window. No one who knows how to +erect the elegant edifices above referred to, will require to be told +that whatever might be her temporary position, Blanche always acquitted +herself to perfection: and that any of the airy _dramatis personae_ who +failed to detect her consummate superiority was either compassionately +undeceived, or summarily crushed, at the close of the drama. + +Are not these fantasies one of the many indications that all along +life's pathway, the old serpent is ever whispering to us his first +lie,--"Ye shall be as gods?" + +At the close of a particularly sensational scene, when Blanche had just +succeeded in escaping from a convent prison wherein the wicked. Queen +her sister had confined her, the idea suddenly flashed upon the +oppressed Princess that Aunt Rachel would hardly be satisfied with the +state of the kettle-holder; and coming down in an instant from air to +earth, she determinately and compunctiously set to work again. The +second row of stitches was growing under her hands when, by that subtle +psychological process which makes us aware of the presence of another +person, though we may have heard and seen nothing, Blanche became +conscious that she was no longer alone. She looked up quickly, into the +face of a stranger; but no great penetration was needed to guess that +the young man before her was the shipwrecked Spaniard. + +Blanche's first idea on seeing him, was a feeling of wonder that her +father should have thought him otherwise than "well-favoured." He was +handsome enough, she thought, to be the hero of any number of dramas. + +The worthy Knight's ideas as to beauty by no means coincided with those +of his daughter. Sir Thomas thought that to look well, a man must not +be--to use his own phrase--"lass-like and finnicking." It was all very +well for a woman to have a soft voice, a pretty face, or a graceful +mien: but let a man be tall, stout, well-developed, and tolerably rough. +So that the finely arched eyebrows, the languishing liquid eyes, the +soft delicate features, and the black silky moustache, which were the +characteristics of Don Juan's face, found no favour with Sir Thomas, but +were absolute perfection in the captivated eyes of Blanche. When those +dark eyes looked admiringly at her, she could see no fault in them; and +when a voice addressed her in flattering terms, she could readily enough +overlook wrong accents and foreign idioms. + +"Most beautiful lady!" said Don Juan, addressing himself to Blanche, and +translating literally into English the usual style of his native land. + +The epithet gave Blanche a little thrill of delight. No one--except the +mythical inhabitants of the airy castles--had ever spoken to her in this +manner before. And undoubtedly there was a zest in the living voice of +another human being, which was unfortunately lacking in the denizens of +Fairy Land. Blanche had never sunk so low in her own opinion as she did +when she tried to frame an answer. She was utterly at a loss for words. +Instead of the exquisitely appropriate language which would have risen +to her lips at once if she had not addressed a human being, she could +only manage to stammer out, in most prosaic fashion, a hope that he was +better. But her consciousness of inferiority deepened, when Don Juan +replied promptly, with a low bow, and the application of his left hand +to the place where his heart was supposed to be, that the sight of her +face had effected a full and immediate cure of all his ills. + +Oh, for knowledge what to say to him, with due grace and effect! Why +was she not born a Spanish lady? And what would he think of her, with +such plebeian work as this in her hand! "How he must despise me!" +thought silly Blanche. "Why, I have not even a fan to flutter." + +Don Juan was quite at his ease. Shyness and timidity were evidently not +in the list of his failings. + +"I think me fortunate, fair lady," sighed he, with another bow, "that +this the misfortune me has made acquainted with your Grace. In my +country, we say to the ladies; Grant me the soles of your foots. But +here the gentlemen humble not themselves so low. I beseech your Grace, +therefore, the favour to kiss you the hand." + +Blanche wondered if all Spanish ladies were addressed as "your Grace." +[Note 1.] How delightful! She held out her hand like a queen, and Don +Juan paid his homage. + +"Your Grace see me much happinessed. When I am again in my Andalusia, I +count it the gloriousest hour of my life that I see your sweet country +and the beautifullest of his ladies." + +How far either Don Juan or Blanche might ultimately have gone in making +themselves ridiculous cannot be stated, because at this moment +Margaret--prosaic, literal Margaret--appeared on the terrace. + +"Blanche! Aunt Rachel seeketh thee.--Your servant, Master! I trust you +are now well amended?" + +Don Juan was a very quick reader of character. He instantly realised +the difference between the sisters, and replied to Margaret's inquiry in +a calm matter-of-fact style. Blanche moved slowly away. She felt as if +she were leaving the sunshine behind her. + +"Well, of all the lazy jades!" was Rachel's deserved greeting. "Three +rows and an half, betwixt twelve of the clock and four! Why, 'tis not a +full row for the hour! Child, art thou 'shamed of thyself?" + +"Well, just middling, Aunt Rachel," said Blanche, pouting a little. + +"Blanche," returned her Aunt very gravely, "I do sorely pity thine +husband--when such a silly thing may win one--without he spend an +hundred pound by the day, and keep a pack of serving-maids a-louting at +thy heels." + +"I hope he may, Aunt Rachel," said Blanche coolly. + +"Eh, child, child!" And Rachel's head was ominously shaken. + +From that time Don Juan joined the family circle at meals. Of course he +was a prisoner, but a prisoner on parole, very generously treated, and +with little fear for the future. He was merely a spectator, having +taken no part in the war; there were old friends of his parents among +the English nobility: no great harm was likely to come to him. So he +felt free to divert himself; and here was a toy ready to his hand. + +The family circle were amused with the names which he gave them. Sir +Thomas became "Don Tomas;" Lady Enville was "the grand Senora." +Margaret and Lucrece gave him some trouble; they were not Spanish names. +He took refuge in "Dona Mariquita" (really a diminutive of Maria), and +"Dona Lucia." But there was no difficulty about "Dona Clara" and "Dona +Blanca," which dropped from his lips (thought Blanche) like music. +Rachel's name, however, proved impracticable. He contented himself with +"_Senora mia_" when he spoke to her, and, "Your Lady Aunt" when he spoke +of her. + +He was ready enough to give some account of himself. His father, Don +Gonsalvo, Marquis de Las Rojas, was a grandee of the first class, and a +Lord in Waiting to King Philip; his mother, Dona Leonor de Torrejano, +had been in attendance on Queen Mary. He had two sisters, whose names +were Antonia and Florela; and a younger brother, Don Hernando. [All +fictitious persons.] + +It flattered Blanche all the more that in the presence of others he was +distantly ceremonious; but whenever they were alone, he was continually, +though very delicately, hinting his admiration of her, and pouring soft +speeches into her entranced ears. So Blanche, poor silly child I played +the part of the moth, and got her wings well singed in the candle. + +Whatever Blanche was, Don Juan himself was perfectly heart-whole. Of +course no grandee of Spain could ever descend so low as really to +contemplate marriage with a mere _caballero's_ daughter, and of a +heretic country; that was out of the question. Moreover, there was a +family understanding that, a dispensation being obtained, he was to +marry his third cousin, Dona Lisarda de Villena, [A fictitious person] a +lady of moderate beauty and fabulous fortune. This arrangement had been +made while both were little children, nor had Don Juan the least +intention of rendering it void. He was merely amusing himself. + +It often happens that such amusements destroy another's happiness. And +it sometimes happens that they lead to the destruction of another's +soul. + +Don Juan won golden opinions from Sir Thomas and Lady Enville. He was +not wanting in sense, said the former (to whom the sensible side of him +had been shown); and, he was right well-favoured, and so courtly! said +Lady Enville--who had seen the courtly aspect. + +"Well-favoured!" laughed Sir Thomas. "Calleth a woman yonder lad +well-favoured? Why, his face is the worst part of him: 'tis all satin +and simpers!" + +Rachel had not the heart to speak ill of the invalid whom she had +nursed, while she admitted frankly that there were points about him +which she did not like: but these, no doubt, arose mainly from his being +a foreigner and a Papist. Margaret said little, but in her heart she +despised him. And presently Jack came home, when the volunteers were +disbanded, and, after a passage of arms, became the sworn brother of the +young prisoner. He was such a gentleman! said Master Jack. So there +was not much likelihood of Blanche's speedy disenchantment. + +"Marry, what think you of the lad, Mistress Thekla?" demanded Barbara +one day, when she was at "four-hours" at the parsonage. + +"He is very young," answered Mrs Tremayne, who always excused everybody +as long as it was possible. "He will amend with time, we may well +hope." + +"Which is to say, I admire him not," suggested Mrs Rose, now a very old +woman, on whom time had brought few bodily infirmities, and no, mental +ones. + +"Who doth admire him, Barbara, at the Court?" asked Mr Tremayne. + +"Marry La'kin! every soul, as methinks, save Mistress Meg, and Sim, and +Jennet. Mistress Meg--I misdoubt if she doth; and Sim says he is a +nincompoop; [silly fellow] and Jennet saith, he is as like as two peas +to the old fox that they nailed up on the barn door when she was a +little maid. But Sir Thomas, and my Lady, and Master Jack, be mighty +taken with him; and Mistress Rachel but little less: and as to Mistress +Blanche, she hath eyes for nought else." + +"Poor Blanche!" said Thekla. + +"Blanche shall be a mouse in a trap, if she have not a care," said Mrs +Rose, with a wise shake of her head. + +"Good lack, Mistress! she is in the trap already, but she wot it not." + +"When we wot us to be in a trap, we be near the outcoming," remarked the +Rector. + +"Of a truth I cannot tell," thoughtfully resumed Barbara, "whether this +young gentleman be rare deep, or rare shallow. He is well-nigh as ill +to fathom as Mistress Lucrece herself. Lo' you, o' Sunday morrow, Sir +Thomas told him that the law of the land was for every man and woman in +the Queen's dominions to attend the parish church twice of the Sunday, +under twenty pound charge by the month if they tarried at home, not +being let by sickness: and I had heard him say himself that he looked +Don John should kick thereat. But what doth Don John but to take up his +hat, and walk off to the church, handing of Mistress Rachel, as smiling +as any man; and who as devote as he when he was there?--Spake the Amen, +and sang in the Psalm, and all the rest belike. Good lack! I had +thought the Papists counted it sinful for to join in a Protestant +service." + +"Not alway," said Mr Tremayne. "Maybe he hath the priest's licence in +his pocket." + +"I wis not what he hath," responded Barbara, sturdily, "save and except +my good will; and that he hath not, nor is not like to have,--in +especial with Mistress Blanche, poor sely young maiden! that wot not +what she doth." + +"He may have it, then, in regard to Clare?" suggested Mrs Rose +mischievously. + +"Marry La'kin!" retorted Barbara in her fiercest manner. "But if I +thought yon fox was in any manner of fashion of way a-making up to my +jewel,--I could find it in my heart to put rats-bane in his pottage!" + +Sir Thomas transmitted to London the news of the wreck of the Dolorida, +requesting orders concerning the seven survivors: at the same time +kindly writing to two or three persons in high places, old acquaintances +of the young man's parents, to ask their intercession on behalf of Don +Juan. But the weeks passed away, and as yet no answer came. The Queen +and Council were too busy to give their attention to a small knot of +prisoners. + +On the fourth of September in the Armada year, 1588, died Robert Dudley, +the famous Earl of Leicester, who had commanded the army of defence at +Tilbury. This one man--and there was only one such--Elizabeth had never +ceased to honour. He retained her favour unimpaired for thirty years, +through good report--of which there was very little; and evil report--of +which there was a great deal. He saw rival after rival rise and +flourish and fall: but to the end of his life, he stood alone as the one +whose brilliant day was unmarred by storm,--the King of England, because +the King of her Queen. What was the occult power of this man, the last +of the Dudleys of Northumberland, over the proud spirit of Elizabeth? +It was not that she had any affection for him: she showed that plainly +enough at his death, when her whole demeanour was not that of mourning, +but of release. He was a man of extremely bad character,--a fact patent +to all the world: yet Elizabeth kept him at her side, and admitted him +to her closest friendship,--though she knew well that the rumours which +blackened his name did not spare her own. He never cleared himself of +the suspected murder of his first wife; he never tried to clear himself +of the attempted murder of the second, whom he alternately asserted and +denied to be his lawful wife, until no one knew which story to believe. +But the third proved his match. There was strong cause for suspicion +that twelve years before, Robert Earl of Leicester had given a lesson in +poisoning to Lettice Countess of Essex: and now the same Lettice, +Countess of Leicester, had not forgotten her lesson. Leicester was +tired of her; perhaps, too, he was a little afraid of what she knew. +The deft and practised poisoner administered a dose to his wife. But +Lettice survived, and poisoned him in return. And so the last of the +Dudleys passed to his awful account. + +His death made no difference in the public rejoicing for the defeat of +the Armada. Two days afterwards, the Spanish banners were exhibited +from Paul's Cross, and the next morning were hung on London Bridge. The +nineteenth of November was a holiday throughout the kingdom. On Sunday +the 24th, the Queen made her famous thanksgiving progress to Saint +Paul's, seated in a chariot built in the form of a throne, with four +pillars, and a crowned canopy overhead. The Privy Council and the House +of Lords attended her. Bishop Pierce of Salisbury preached the sermon, +from the very appropriate text, afterwards engraved on the memorial +medals,--"He blew with His wind, and they were scattered." + +All this time no word came to decide the fate of Don Juan. It was not +expected now before spring. A winter journey from Lancashire to London +was then a very serious matter. + +"So you count it not ill to attend our Protestant churches, Master?" +asked Blanche of Don Juan, as she sat in the window-seat, needlework in +hand. It was a silk purse, not a kettle-holder, this time. + +"How could I think aught ill, Dona Blanca, which I see your Grace do?" +was the courtly reply of Don Juan. + +"But what should your confessor say, did he hear thereof?" asked +Blanche, provokingly. + +"Is a confessor a monster in your eyes, fair lady?" said Don Juan, with +that smile which Blanche held in deep though secret admiration. + +"I thought they were rarely severe," she said, bending her eyes on her +work. + +"Ah, Senora, our faith differs from yours much less than you think. +What is a confessor, but a priest--a minister? The Senor Tremayne is a +confessor, when one of his people shall wish his advice. Where lieth +the difference?" + +Blanche was too ignorant to know where it lay. + +"I accounted there to be mighty difference," she said, hesitatingly. + +"_Valgame los santos_! [The saints defend me!]--but a shade or two of +colour. Hold we not the same creeds as you? Your Book of Common +Prayer--what is it but the translation of ours? We worship the same +God; we honour the same persons, as you. Where, then, is the +difference? Our priests wed not; yours may. We receive the Holy +Eucharist in one kind; you, in both. We are absolved in private, and +make confession thus; you, in public. Be these such mighty +differences?" + +If Don Juan had thrown a little less dust in her eyes, perhaps Blanche +might have had sense enough to ask him where the Church of Rome had +found her authority for her half of these differences, since it +certainly was not in Holy Scripture: and also, whether that communion +held such men as Cranmer, Latimer, Calvin, and Luther, in very high +esteem? But the dust was much too thick to allow any stronger reply +from Blanche than a feeble inquiry whether these really were all the +points of difference. + +"What other matter offendeth your Grace? Doubtless I can expound the +same." + +"Why, I have heard," said Blanche faintly, selecting one of the smaller +charges first, "that the Papists do hold Mary, the blessed Virgin, to +have been without sin." + +"Some Catholics have that fantasy," replied Don Juan lightly. "It is +only a few. The Church binds it not on the conscience of any. You take +it--you leave it--as you will." + +"Likewise you hold obedience due to the Bishop of Rome, instead of only +unto your own Prince, as with us," objected Blanche, growing a shade +bolder. + +"That, again, is but in matters ecclesiastical. In secular matters, I +do assure your Grace, the Pope interfereth not." + +Blanche, who had no answers to these subtle explainings away of the +facts, felt as if all her outworks were being taken, one by one. + +"Yet," she said, bringing her artillery to bear on a new point, "you +have images in your churches, Don John, and do worship unto them?" + +The word worship has changed its meaning since the days of Queen +Elizabeth. To do worship, and to do honour, were then interchangeable +terms. + +Don Juan smiled. "Have you no pictures in your books, Dona Blanca? +These images are but as pictures for the teaching of the vulgar, that +cannot read. How else should we learn them? If some of the ignorant +make blunder, and bestow to these images better honour than the Church +did mean them, the mistake is theirs. No man really doth worship unto +these, only the vulgar." + +"But do not you pray unto the saints?" + +"We entreat the saints to pray for us; that is all." + +"Then, in the Lord's Supper--the mass, you call it,"--said Blanche, +bringing up at last her strongest battering-ram, "you do hold, as I have +been taught, Don John, that the bread and wine be changed into the very +self body and blood of our Saviour Christ, that it is no more bread and +wine at all. Now how can you believe a matter so plainly confuted by +your very senses?" + +"Ah, if I had but your learning and wisdom, Senora!" sighed Don Juan, +apparently from the bottom of his heart. + +Blanche felt flattered; but she was not thrown off the scent, as her +admirer intended her to be. She still looked up for the answer; and Don +Juan saw that he must give it. + +"Sweetest lady! I am no doctor of the schools, nor have I studied for +the priesthood, that I should be able to expound all matters unto one of +your Grace's marvellous judgment and learning. Yet, not to leave so +fair a questioner without answer--suffer that I ask, your gracious leave +accorded--did not our Lord say thus unto the holy Apostles,--`_Hoc est +corpus mens_,' to wit, `This is My Body?'" + +Blanche assented. + +"In what manner, then, was it thus?" + +"Only as a memorial or representation thereof, we do hold, Don John." + +"Good: as the child doth present [represent] the father, being of the +like substance, no less than appearance,--as saith the blessed Saint +Augustine, and also the blessed Jeronymo, and others of the holy Fathers +of the Church, right from the time of our Lord and His Apostles." + +Don Juan had never read a line of the works of Jerome or Augustine. +Fortunately for him, neither had Blanche,--a chance on which he safely +calculated. Blanche was completely puzzled. She sat looking out of the +window, and thinking with little power, and to small purpose. She had +not an idea when Augustine lived, nor whether he read the service in his +own tongue in a surplice, or celebrated the Latin mass in full +pontificals. And if it were true that all the Fathers, down from the +Apostles, had held the Roman view--for poor ignorant Blanche had not the +least idea whether it were true or false--it was a very awkward thing. +Don Juan stood and watched her face for an instant. His diplomatic +instinct told him that the subject had better be dropped. All that was +needed to effect this end was a few well-turned compliments, which his +ingenuity readily suggested. In five minutes more the theological +discussion was forgotten, at least by Blanche, as Don Juan was assuring +her that in all Andalusia there were not eyes comparable to hers. + +Mr Tremayne and Arthur came in to supper that evening. The former +quietly watched the state of affairs without appearing to notice +anything. He saw that Don Juan, who sat by Lucrece, paid her the most +courteous attention; that Lucrece received it with a thinly-veiled air +of triumph; that Blanche's eyes constantly followed, the young Spaniard: +and he came to the conclusion that the affair was more complicated than +he had originally supposed. + +He waited, however, till Arthur and Lysken were both away, until he said +anything at home. When those young persons were safely despatched to +bed, Mr and Mrs Tremayne and Mrs Rose drew together before the fire, +and discussed the state of affairs at Enville Court. + +"Now, what thinkest, Robin?" inquired Mrs Rose. "Is Blanche, _la +pauvrette_! as fully taken with Don Juan as Barbara did suppose?" + +"I am afeared, fully." + +"And Don Juan?" + +"If I mistake not, is likewise taken with Blanche: but I doubt somewhat +if he be therein as wholehearted as she." + +"And what say the elders?" asked Mrs Tremayne. + +"Look on with _eyes_ which see nought. But, nathless, there be one pair +of eyes that see; and Blanche's path is not like to run o'er smooth." + +"What, Mistress Rachel?" + +"Nay, she is blind as the rest. I mean Lucrece." + +"Lucrece! Thinkest she will ope the eyes of the other?" + +"I think she casteth about to turn Don Juan's her way." + +"Alack, poor Blanche!" said Mrs Tremayne. "Howso the matter shall go, +mefeareth she shall not 'scape suffering." + +"She is no match for Lucrece," observed Mrs Rose. + +"Truth: but I am in no wise assured Don Juan is not," answered Mr +Tremayne with a slightly amused look. "As for Blanche, she is like to +suffer; and I had well-nigh added, she demeriteth the same: but it will +do her good, Thekla. At the least, if the Lord bless it unto her--be +assured I meant not to leave out that." + +"The furnace purifieth the gold," said Mrs Tremayne sadly: "yet the +heat is none the less fierce for that, Robin." + +"Dear heart, whether wouldst thou miss the suffering rather, and the +purifying, or take both together?" + +"It is soon over, Thekla," said her mother, quietly. + +During the fierce heat of the Marian persecution, those words had once +been said to Marguerite Rose. She had failed to realise them then. The +lesson was learned now--thirty-five years later. + +"Soon over, to look back, dear Mother," replied Mrs Tremayne. "Yet it +never seems short to them that be in the furnace." + +Mrs Rose turned rather suddenly to her son-in-law. + +"Robin, tell me, if thou couldst have seen thy life laid out before thee +on a map, and it had been put to thy choice to bear the Little Ease, or +to leave go,--tell me what thou hadst chosen?" + +For Mr Tremayne had spent several months in that horrible funnel-shaped +prison, aptly termed Little Ease, and had but just escaped from it with +life. He paused a moment, and his face grew very thoughtful. + +"I think, Mother," he said at length, "that I had chosen to go through +with it. I learned lessons in Little Ease that, if I had lacked now, I +had been sorely wanting to my people; and--speaking as a man--that +perchance I could have learned nowhere else." + +"Childre," responded the aged mother, "it seemeth me, that of all matter +we have need to learn, the last and hardest is to give God leave to +choose for us. At least, thus it hath been with me; it may be I mistake +to say it is for all. Yet I am sure he is the happy man that learneth +it soon. It hath taken me well-nigh eighty years. Thou art better, +Robin, to have learned it in fifty." + +"I count, Mother, we learn not all lessons in the same order," said the +Rector, smiling, "though there be many lessons we must all learn. 'Tis +not like to be my last,--without I should die to-morrow--if I have +learned it thoroughly now. And 'tis easier to leave in God's hands, +some choices than other." + +Mrs Rose did not ask of what he was thinking, but she could guess +pretty well. It would be harder to lose his Thekla now, than if he had +come out of Little Ease and had found her dead: harder to lose Arthur in +his early manhood, than to have seen him coffined with his baby brother +and sisters, years ago. Mrs Tremayne drew a long sigh, as if she had +guessed it too. + +"It would be easier to leave all things to God's choice," she said, "if +only we dwelt nearer God." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. "Vuesa merced," the epithet of ordinary courtesy, is literally +"Your Grace." + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +A SPOKE IN THE WHEEL. + + "All the foolish work + Of fancy, and the bitter close of all." + + _Tennyson_. + +A few weeks after that conversation, Lucrece Enville sat alone in the +bedroom which she shared with her sister Margaret. She was not shedding +tears--it was not her way to weep: but her mortification was bitter +enough for any amount of weeping. + +Lucrece was as selfish as her step-mother, or rather a shade more so. +Lady Enville's selfishness was pure love of ease; there was no +deliberate malice in it. Any person who stood in her way might be +ruthlessly swept out of it; but those who did not interfere with her +pleasure, were free to pursue their own. + +The selfishness of Lucrece lay deeper. She not only sought her own +enjoyment and aggrandisement; but she could not bear to see anything-- +even if she did not want it--in the possession of some one else. That +was sufficient to make Lucrece long for it and plot to acquire it, +though she had no liking for the article in itself, and would not know +what to do with it when she got it. + +But in this particular instance she had wanted the article: and she had +missed it. True, the value which she set upon it was rather for its +adjuncts than for itself; but whatever its value, one thought was +uppermost, and was bitterest--she had missed it. + +The article was Don Juan. His charm was twofold: first, he would one +day be a rich man and a noble; and secondly, Blanche was in possession. +Lucrece tried her utmost efforts to detach him from her sister, and to +attach him to herself. And Don Juan proved himself to be her match, +both in perseverance and in strategy. + +Blanche had not the faintest suspicion that anything of the sort had +been going on. Don Juan himself had very quickly perceived the +counterplot, and had found it a most amusing episode in the little drama +with which he was beguiling the time during his forced stay in England. + +But nobody else saw either plot or counterplot, until one morning, when +a low soft voice arrested Sir Thomas as he was passing out of the garden +door. + +"Father, may I have a minute's speech of you?" + +"Ay so, Lucrece? I was about to take a turn or twain in the garden; +come with me, lass." + +"So better, Father, for that I must say lacketh no other ears." + +"What now?" demanded Sir Thomas, laughing. "Wouldst have money for a +new chain, or leave to go to a merry-making? Thou art welcome to +either, my lass." + +"I thank you, Father," said Lucrece gravely, as they paced slowly down +one of the straight, trim garden walks: "but not so,--my words are of +sadder import." + +Sir Thomas turned and looked at her. Never until this moment, in all +her four-and-twenty years, had his second daughter given him an iota of +her confidence. + +"Nay, what now?" he said, in a perplexed tone. + +"I pray you, Father, be not wroth with me, for my reasons be strong, if +I am so bold as to ask at you if you have yet received any order from +the Queen's Majesty's Council, touching the disposing of Don John?" + +"Art thou turning states-woman, my lass? Nay, not I--not so much as a +line." + +"Might I take on me, saving your presence, Father, to say so much as--I +would you would yet again desire the same?" + +"Why, my lass, hath Don John offenced thee, that thou wouldst fain be +rid of him? I would like him to tarry a while longer. What aileth +thee?" + +"Would you like him to marry Blanche, Father?" + +"Blanche!--marry Blanche! What is come over thee, child? Marry +Blanche!" + +Sir Thomas's tone was totally incredulous. He almost laughed in his +contemptuous unbelief. + +"You crede it not, Father," said Lucrece's voice--always even, and soft, +and low. "Yet it may be true, for all that." + +"In good sooth, my lass: so it may. But what cause hast, that thou +shouldst harbour such a thought?" + +"Nought more than words overheard, Father,--and divers gifts seen-- +and--" + +"Gifts! The child showed us none." + +"She would scantly show _you_, Father, a pair of beads of coral, with a +cross of enamel thereto--" + +"Lucrece, dost thou _know_ this?" + +Her father's tone was very grave and stern now. + +"I do know it, of a surety. And if you suffer me, Father, to post you +in a certain place that I wot of, behind the tapestry, you shall ere +long know it too." + +Lucrece's triumphant malice had carried her a step too far. Her +father's open, upright, honest mind was shocked at this suggestion. + +"God forbid, girl!" he replied, hastily. "I will not play the +eavesdropper on my own child. Hast thou done this, Lucrece?" + +Lucrece saw that she must make her retreat from that position, and she +did so "in excellent order." + +"Oh no, Father! how could I so? One day, I sat in the arbour yonder, +and they two walked by, discoursing: and another day, when I sat in a +window-seat in the hall, they came in a-talking, and saw me not. I +could never do such a thing as listen unknown, Father!" + +"Right, my lass: but it troubled me to hear thee name it." + +Sir Thomas walked on, lost in deep thought. Lucrece was silent until he +resumed the conversation. + +"Beads, and a cross!" He spoke to himself. + +"I could tell you of other gear, Father," said the low voice of the +avenger. "As, a little image of Mary and John, which she keepeth in her +jewel-closet; and a book wherein be prayers unto the angels and the +saints. These he hath given her." + +Lucrece was making the worst of a matter in which Don Juan was +undoubtedly to blame, but Blanche was much more innocent than her sister +chose to represent her. On the rosary Blanche looked as a long +necklace, such as were in fashion at the time; and while the elaborate +enamelled pendant certainly was a cross, it had never appeared to her +otherwise than a mere pendant. The little image was so extremely small, +that she kept it in her jewel-closet lest it should be lost. The book, +Don Juan's private breviary, was in Latin, in which language studious +Lucrece was a proficient, whilst idle Blanche could not have declined a +single noun. The giver had informed her that he bestowed this breviary +on her, his best beloved, because he held it dearest of all his +treasures; and Blanche valued it on that account. Lucrece knew all +this: for she had come upon Blanche in an unguarded moment, with the +book in her hand and the rosary round her neck, and had to some extent +forced her confidence--the more readily given, since Blanche never +suspected treachery. + +"I can ensure you, Father," pursued the traitress, with an assumption of +the utmost meekness, "it hath cost me much sorrow ere I set me to speak +unto you." + +"Hast spoken to Blanche aforetime?" + +"Not much, Father," replied Lucrece, in a voice of apparent trouble. "I +counted it fitter to refer the same unto your better wisdom; nor, I +think, was she like to list me." + +"God have mercy!" moaned the distressed father, thoroughly awake now to +the gravity of the case. + +"Maybe, Father, you shall think I have left it pass too far," pursued +Lucrece, with well-simulated grief: "yet can you guess that I would not +by my goodwill seem to carry complaint of Blanche." + +"Thou hast well done, dear heart, and I thank thee," answered her +deceived father. "But leave me now, my lass; I must think all this gear +over. My poor darling!" + +Lucrece glided away as softly as the serpent which she resembled in her +heart. + +In half-an-hour Sir Thomas came back into the house, and sent Jennet to +tell his sister that he wished to speak with her in the library. It was +characteristic, not of himself, but of his wife, that in his sorrows and +perplexities he turned instinctively to Rachel, not to her. When +Lucrece's intelligence was laid before Rachel, though perhaps she +grieved less, she was even more shocked than her brother. That Blanche +should think of quitting the happy and honourable estate of maidenhood, +for the slavery of marriage, was in itself a misdemeanour of the first +magnitude: but that she should have made her own choice, have received +secret gifts, and held clandestine interviews--this was an awful +instance of what human depravity could reach. + +"Now, what is to be done?" asked Sir Thomas wearily. "First with Don +John, and next with Blanche." + +"Him?--the viper! Pack him out of the house, bag and baggage!" cried +the wrathful spinster. "The crocodile, to conspire against the peace of +the house which hath received him in his need! Yet what better might +you look for in a man and a Papist?" + +"Nay, Rachel; I cannot pack him out: he is my prisoner, think thou. I +am set in charge of him until released by the Queen's Majesty's mandate. +All the greater need is there to keep him and Blanche apart. In good +sooth, I wis not what to do for the best--with Blanche, most of all." + +"Blanche hath had too much leisure time allowed her, and too much of her +own way," said Rachel oracularly. "Hand her o'er to me--I will set her +a-work. She shall not have an idle hour. 'Tis the only means to keep +silly heads in order." + +"Maybe, Rachel,--maybe," said Sir Thomas with a sigh. "Yet I fear +sorely that we must have Blanche hence. It were constant temptation, +were she and Don John left in the same house; and though she might not +break charge--would not, I trust--yet he might. I can rest no faith on +him well! I must first speak to Blanche, methinks, and then--" + +"Speak to her!--whip her well! By my troth, but I would mark her!" +cried Rachel, in a passion. + +"Nay, Rachel, that wouldst thou not," answered her brother, smiling +sadly. "Did the child but whimper, thy fingers would leave go the rod. +Thy bark is right fearful, good Sister; but some men's sweet words be no +softer than thy bite." + +"There is charity in all things, of course," said Rachel, cooling down. + +"There is a deal in thee," returned Sir Thomas, "for them that know +where to seek it. Well, come with me to Orige; she must be told, I +reckon: and then we will send for Blanche." + +Rachel opened her lips, but suddenly shut them without speaking, and +kept them drawn close. Perhaps, had she not thought better of it, what +might have been spoken was not altogether complimentary to Lady Enville. + +That very comfortable dame sat in her cushioned chair in the boudoir-- +there were no easy-chairs then, except as rendered so by cushions; and +plenty of soft thick cushions were a very necessary part of the +furniture of a good house. Her Ladyship was dressed in the pink of the +fashion, so far as it had reached her tailor at Kirkham; and she was +turning over the leaves of a new play, entitled "The Comedie of +Errour"--one of the earliest productions of the young Warwickshire +actor, William Shakspere by name. She put her book down with a yawn +when her husband and his sister came in. + +"How much colder 'tis grown this last hour or twain!" said she. +"Prithee, Sir Thomas, call for more wood." + +Sir Thomas shouted as desired--the quickest way of settling matters--and +when Jennet had come and gone with the fuel, he glanced into the little +chamber to see if it were vacant. Finding no one there, he drew the +bolt and sat down. + +"Gramercy, Sir Thomas! be we all prisoners?" demanded his wife with a +little laugh. + +"Orige," replied Sir Thomas, "Rachel and I have a thing to show thee." + +"I thought you looked both mighty sad," remarked the lady calmly. + +"Dost know where is Blanche?" + +"Good lack, no! I never wis where Blanche is." + +"Orige, wouldst like to have Blanche wed?" + +"Blanche!--to whom?" + +"To Don John de Las Rojas." + +"Gramercy! Sir Thomas, you never mean it?" + +"He and Blanche mean it, whate'er I may." + +"Good lack, how fortunate! Why, he will be a Marquis one day--and hath +great store of goods and money. I never looked for such luck. Have you +struck hands with him, Sir Thomas?" + +Sir Thomas pressed his lips together, and glanced at his sister with an +air of helpless vexation. Had it just occurred to him that the pretty +doll whom he had chosen to be the partner of his life was a little +wanting in the departments of head and heart? + +"What, Orige--an enemy?" he said. + +"Don John is not an enemy," returned Lady Enville, with a musical little +laugh. "We have all made a friend of him." + +"Ay--and have been fools, perchance, to do it. 'Tis ill toying with a +snake. But yet once--a Papist?" + +"Good lack! some Papists will get to Heaven, trow." + +"May God grant it!" replied Sir Thomas seriously. "But surely, Orige, +surely thou wouldst never have our own child a Papist?" + +"I trust Blanche has too much good sense for such foolery, Sir Thomas," +said the lady. "But if no--well, 'tis an old religion, at the least, +and a splendrous. You would never let such a chance slip through your +fingers, for the sake of Papistry?" + +"No, Sister--for the sake of the Gospel," said Rachel grimly. + +"Thou wist my meaning, Rachel," pursued Lady Enville. "Well, in very +deed, Sir Thomas, I do think it were ill done to let such a chance go by +us. 'Tis like throwing back the gifts of Providence. Do but see, how +marvellously this young man was brought hither! And now, if he hath +made suit for Blanche, I pray you, never say him nay! I would call it +wicked to do the same. Really wicked, Sir Thomas!" + +Lady Enville pinched the top cushion into a different position, with +what was energy for her. There was silence for a minute. Rachel sat +looking grimly into the fire, the personification of determined +immobility. Sir Thomas was shading his eyes with his hand. He was +drinking just then a very bitter cup: and it was none the sweeter for +the recollection that he had mixed it himself. His favourite child--for +Blanche was that--seemed to be going headlong to her ruin: and her +mother not only refused to aid in saving her, but was incapable of +seeing any need that she should be saved. + +"Well, Orige," he said at last, "thou takest it other than I looked for. +I had meant for to bid thee speak with Blanche. Her own mother surely +were the fittest to do the same. But since this is so, I see no help +but that we have her here, before us three. It shall be harder for the +child, and I would fain have spared her. But if it must be,--why, it +must." + +"She demeriteth [merits] no sparing," said Rachel sternly. + +"Truly, Sir Thomas," responded his wife, "if I am to speak my mind, I +shall bid Blanche God speed therein. So, if you desire to let [hinder] +the same--but I think it pity a thousand-fold you should--you were +better to see her without me." + +"Nay, Orige! Shall I tell the child to her face that her father and her +mother cannot agree touching her disposal?" + +"She will see it if she come hither," was the answer. + +"But cannot we persuade thee, Orige?" + +"Certes, nay!" replied she, with the obstinacy of feeble minds. "Truly, +I blame not Rachel, for she alway opposeth her to marriage, howso it +come. She stood out against Meg her trothing. But for you, Sir +Thomas,--I am verily astonied that you would deny Blanche such good +fortune." + +"I would deny the maid nought that were for her good, Orige," said the +father, sadly. + +"`Good,' in sweet sooth!--as though it should be ill for her to wear a +coronet on her head, and carry her pocket brimful of ducats! Where be +your eyes, Sir Thomas?" + +"Thine be dazed, methinks, with the ducats and the coronet, Sister," put +in Rachel. + +"Well, have your way," said Lady Enville, spreading out her hands, as if +she were letting Blanche's good fortune drop from them: "have your way! +You will have it, I count, as whatso I may say. I pray God the poor +child be not heart-broken. Howbeit, _I_ had better loved her than to do +thus." + +Sir Thomas was silent, not because he did not feel the taunt, but +because he did feel it too bitterly to trust himself with speech. But +Rachel rose from her chair, deeply stung, and spoke very plain words +indeed. + +"Orige Enville," she said, "thou art a born fool!" + +"Gramercy, Rachel!" ejaculated her sister-in-law, as much moved out of +her graceful ease of manner as it lay in her torpid nature to be. + +"You can deal with the maid betwixt you two," pursued the spinster. "I +will not bear a hand in the child's undoing." + +And she marched out of the room, and slammed the door behind her. + +"Good lack!" was Lady Enville's comment. + +Without resuming the subject, Sir Thomas walked to the other door and +opened it. + +"Blanche!" he said, in that hard, constrained tone which denotes not +want of feeling, but the endeavour to hide it. + +"Blanche is in the garden, Father," said Margaret, coming out of the +hall. "Shall I seek her for you?" + +"Ay, bid her come, my lass," said he quietly. + +Margaret looked up inquiringly, in consequence of her father's unusual +tone; but he gave her no explanation, and she went to call Blanche. + +That young lady was engaged at the moment in a deeply interesting +conversation with Don Juan upon the terrace. They had been exchanging +locks of hair, and vows of eternal fidelity. Margaret's approaching +step was heard just in time to resume an appearance of courteous +composure; and Don Juan, who was possessed of remarkable versatility, +observed as she came up to them-- + +"The clouds be a-gathering, Dona Blanca. Methinks there shall be rain +ere it be long." + +"How now, Meg?--whither away?" asked Blanche, with as much calmness as +she could assume; but she was by no means so clever an actor as her +companion. + +"Father calleth thee, Blanche, from Mother's bower." + +"How provoking!" said Blanche to herself. Aloud she answered, "Good; I +thank thee, Meg." + +Blanche sauntered slowly into the boudoir. Lady Enville reclined in her +chair, engaged again with her comedy, as though she had said all that +could be said on the subject under discussion. Sir Thomas stood leaning +against the jamb of the chimney-piece, gazing sadly into the fire. + +"Meg saith you seek me, Father." + +"I do, my child." + +His grave tone chilled Blanche's highly-wrought feelings with a vague +anticipation of coming evil. He set a chair for her, with a courtesy +which he always showed to a woman, not excluding his daughters. + +"Sit, Blanche: we desire to know somewhat of thee." + +The leaves of the play in Lady Enville's hand fluttered; but she had +just sense enough not to speak. + +"Blanche, look me in the face, and answer truly:--Hath there been any +passage of love betwixt Don John and thee?" + +Blanche's heart gave a great leap into her throat,--not perhaps +anatomically, but so far as her sensations were concerned. She played +for a minute with her gold chain in silence. But the way in which the +question was put roused all her better feelings; and when the first +unpleasant thrill was past, her eyes looked up honestly into his. + +"I cannot say nay, Father, and tell truth." + +"Well said, my lass, and bravely. How far hath it gone, Blanche?" + +Blanche's chain came into requisition again. She was silent. + +"Hath he spoken plainly of wedding thee?" + +"I think so," said Blanche faintly. + +"Didst give him any encouragement thereto?" was the next question-- +gravely, but not angrily asked. + +If Blanche had spoken the simple truth, she would have said "Plenty." +But she dared not. She looked intently at the floor, and murmured +something about "perhaps" and "a little." + +Her father sighed. Her mother appeared engrossed with the play. + +"And yet once tell me, Blanche--hath he at all endeavoured himself to +persuade thee to accordance with his religion? Hath he given thee any +gifts, such as a cross, or a relic-case, or the like?" + +Blanche would have given a good deal to run away. But there was no +chance of it. She must stand her ground; and not only that, but she +must reply to this exceedingly awkward question. + +Don Juan had given her one or two little things, she faltered, leaving +the more important points untouched. Was her father annoyed at her +accepting them? She had no intention of vexing him. + +"Thou hast not vexed me, my child," he said kindly. "But I am +troubled--grievously troubled and sorrowful. And the heavier part of my +question, Blanche, thou hast not dealt withal." + +"Which part, Father?" + +She knew well enough. She only wanted to gain time. + +"Hath this young man tampered with thy faith?" + +"He hath once and again spoken thereof," she allowed. + +"Spoken what, my maid?" + +Blanche's words, it was evident, came very unwillingly. + +"He hath shown me divers matters wherein the difference is but little," +she contrived to say. + +Sir Thomas groaned audibly. + +"God help and pardon me, to have left my lamb thus unguarded!" he +murmured to himself. "O Blanche, Blanche!" + +"What is it, Father?" she said, looking up in some trepidation. + +"Tell me, my daughter,--should it give thee very great sorrow, if thou +wert never to see this young man again?" + +"What, Father?--O Father!" + +"My poor child!" he sighed. "My poor, straying, unguarded child!" + +Blanche was almost frightened. Her father seemed to her to be coming +out in entirely a new character. At this juncture Lady Enville laid +down the comedy, and thought proper to interpose. + +"Doth Don John love thee, Blanche?" + +Blanche felt quite sure of that, and she intimated as much, but in a +very low voice. + +"And thou lovest him?" + +With a good many knots and twists of the gold chain, Blanche confessed +this also. + +"Now really, Sir Thomas, what would you?" suggested his wife, re-opening +the discussion. "Could there be a better establishing for the maiden +than so? 'Twere easy to lay down rule, and win his promise, that he +should not seek to disturb her faith in no wise. Many have done the +like--" + +"And suffered bitterly by reason thereof." + +"Nay, now!--why so? You see the child's heart is set thereon. Be ruled +by me, I pray you, and leave your fantastical objections, and go seek +Don John. Make him to grant you oath, on the honour of a Spanish +gentleman, that Blanche shall be allowed the free using of her own +faith--and what more would you?" + +"If thou send me to seek him, Orige, I shall measure swords with him." + +Blanche uttered a little scream. Lady Enville laughed her soft, musical +laugh--the first thing which had originally attracted her husband's +fancy to her, eighteen years before. + +"I marvel wherefore!" she said, laying down the play, and taking up her +pomander--a ball of scented drugs, enclosed in a golden network, which +hung from her girdle by a gold chain. + +"Wherefore?" repeated Sir Thomas more warmly. "For plucking my fairest +flower, when I had granted unto him but shelter in my garden-house!" + +"He has not plucked it yet," said Lady Enville, handling the pomander +delicately, so that too much scent should not escape at once. + +"He hath done as ill," replied Sir Thomas shortly. + +Lady Enville calmly inhaled the fragrance, as if nothing more serious +than itself were on her mind. Blanche sat still, playing with her +chain, but looking troubled and afraid, and casting furtive glances at +her father, who was pacing slowly up and down the room. + +"Orige," he said suddenly, "can Blanche make her ready to leave home?-- +and how soon?" + +Blanche looked up fearfully. + +"What wis I, Sir Thomas?" languidly answered the lady. "I reckon she +could be ready in a month or so. Where would you have her go?" + +"A month! I mean to-night." + +"To-night, Sir Thomas! 'Tis not possible. Why, she hath scantly a gown +fit to show." + +"She must go, nathless, Orige. And it shall be to the parsonage. They +will do it, I know. And Clare must go with her." + +"The parsonage!" said Lady Enville contemptuously. "Oh ay, she can go +there any hour. They should scantly know whether she wear satin or +grogram. Call for Clare, if you so desire it--she must see to the +gear." + +"Canst not thou, Orige?" + +"I, Sir Thomas!--with my feeble health!" + +And Lady Enville looked doubly languid as she let her head sink back +among the cushions. Sir Thomas looked at her for a minute, sighed +again, and then, opening the door, called out two or three names. +Barbara answered, and he bade her "Send hither Mistress Clare." + +Clare was rather startled when she presented herself at the boudoir +door. Blanche, she saw, was in trouble of some kind; Lady Enville +looked annoyed, after her languid fashion; and the grave, sad look of +Sir Thomas was an expression as new to Clare as it had been to the +others. + +"Clare," said her step-father, "I am about to entrust thee with a +weighty matter. Are thy shoulders strong enough to bear such burden?" + +"I will do my best, Father," answered Clare, whose eyes bespoke both +sympathy and readiness for service. + +"I think thou wilt, my good lass. Go to, then:--choose thou, out of +thine own and Blanche's gear, such matter as ye may need for a month or +so. Have Barbara to aid thee. I would fain ye were hence ere +supper-time, so haste all thou canst. I will go and speak with Master +Tremayne, but I am well assured he shall receive you." + +A month at the parsonage! How delightful!--thought Clare. Yet +something by no means delightful had evidently led to it. + +"Clare!" her mother called to her as she was leaving the room,--"Clare! +have a care thou put up Blanche's blue kersey. I would not have her in +rags, even yonder; and that brown woolsey shall not be well for another +month. And,--Blanche, child, go thou with Clare; see thou have ruffs +enow; and take thy pearl chain withal." + +Blanche was relieved by being told to accompany her sister. She had +been afraid that she was about to be put in the dark closet like a +naughty child, with no permission to exercise her own will about +anything. And just now, the parsonage looked to her a dark closet +indeed. + +But Sir Thomas turned quickly on hearing this, with--"Orige, I desire +Blanche to abide here. If there be aught she would have withal, she can +tell Clare of it." + +And, closing the door, he left the three together. + +"Oh!--very well," said Lady Enville, rather crossly. Blanche sat down +again. + +"What shall I put for thee, Blanche?" asked Clare gently. + +"What thou wilt," muttered Blanche sulkily. + +"I will lay out what I think shall like thee best," was her sister's +kind reply. + +"I would like my green sleeves, [Note 1] and my tawny kirtle," said +Blanche in a slightly mollified tone. + +"Very well," replied Clare, and hastened away to execute her commission, +calling Barbara as she went. + +"What ado doth Sir Thomas make of this matter!" said Lady Enville, +applying again to the pomander. "If he would have been ruled by me-- +Blanche, child, hast any other edge of pearl?" [Note 2.] + +"Ay, Mother," said Blanche absently. + +"Metrusteth 'tis not so narrow as that thou wearest. It becometh thee +not. And the guarding of that gown is ill done--who set it on?" + +Blanche did not remember--and, just then, she did not care. + +"Whoso it were, she hath need be ashamed thereof. Come hither, child." + +Blanche obeyed, and while her mother gave a pull here, and smoothed down +a fold there, she stood patiently enough in show, but most unquietly in +heart. + +"Nought would amend it, save to pick it off and set it on again," said +Lady Enville, resigning her endeavours. "Now, Blanche, if thou art to +abide at the parsonage, where I cannot have an eye upon thee, I pray +thee remember thyself, who thou art, and take no fantasies in thine head +touching Arthur Tremayne." + +Arthur Tremayne! What did Blanche care for Arthur Tremayne? + +"I am sore afeard, Blanche, lest thou shouldst forget thee. It will not +matter for Clare. If he be a parson's son, yet is he a Tremayne of +Tremayne,--quite good enough for Clare, if no better hap should chance +unto her. But thou art of better degree by thy father's side, and we +look to have thee well matched, according thereto. Thy father will not +hear of Don John, because he is a Papist, and a Spaniard to boot: +elsewise I had seen no reason to gainsay thee, poor child! But of +course he must have his way. Only have a care, Blanche, and take not up +with none too mean for thy degree,--specially now, while thou art out of +our wardship." + +There was no answer from Blanche. + +"Mistress Tremayne will have a care of thee, maybe," pursued her mother, +unfurling her fan--merely as a plaything, for the weather did not by any +means require it. "Yet 'tis but nature she should work to have Arthur +well matched, and she wot, of course, that thou shouldst be a rare catch +for him. So do thou have a care, Blanche." + +And Lady Enville, leaning back among her cushions, furled and unfurled +her handsome fan, alike unconscious and uncaring that she had been +guilty of the greatest injustice to poor Thekla Tremayne. + +There was a rap at the door, and enter Rachel, looking as if she had +imbibed an additional pound of starch since leaving the room. + +"Sister, would you have Blanche's tartaryn gown withal, or no?" + +"The crimson? Let me see," said Lady Enville reflectively. "Ay, +Rachel,--she may as well have it. I would not have thee wear it but for +Sundays and holy days, Blanche. For common days, _there_, thy blue +kersey is full good enough." + +Without any answer, and deliberately ignoring the presence of Blanche, +Rachel stalked away. + +It was a weary interval until Sir Thomas, returned. Now and then Clare +flitted in and out, to ask her mother's wishes concerning different +things: Jennet came in with fresh wood for the fire; Lady Enville +continued to give cautions and charges, as they occurred to her, now +regarding conduct and now costume: but a miserable time Blanche found +it. She felt herself, and she fancied every one else considered her, in +dire disgrace. Yet beneath all the mortification, the humiliation, and +the grief over which she was brooding, there was a conviction in the +depth of Blanche's heart, resist it as she might, that the father who +was crossing her will was a wiser and truer friend to her than the +mother who would have granted it. + +Sir Thomas came at last. He wore a very tired look, and seemed as if he +had grown several years older in that day. + +"Well, all is at a point, Orige," he said. "Master Tremayne hath right +kindly given consent to receive both the maids into his house, for so +long a time as we may desire it; but Mistress Tremayne would have +Barbara come withal, if it may stand with thy conveniency. She hath but +one serving-maid, as thou wist; and it should be more comfortable to the +childre to have her, beside the saving of some pain [trouble, labour] +unto Mistress Tremayne." + +"They can have her well enough, trow," answered Lady Enville. "I seldom +make use of her. Jennet doth all my matters." + +"But how for Meg and Lucrece?" + +Barbara's position in the household was what we should term the young +ladies' maid; but maids in those days were on very familiar and +confidential terms with their ladies. + +"Oh, they will serve them some other way," said Lady Enville carelessly. + +The convenience of other people was of very slight account in her +Ladyship's eyes, so long as there was no interference with her own. + +"Cannot Kate or Doll serve?" asked Sir Thomas--referring to the two +chambermaids. + +"Of course they can, if they must," returned their nominal mistress. +"Good lack, Sir Thomas!--ask Rachel; I wis nought about the house gear." + +Sir Thomas walked off, and said no more. + +With great difficulty and much hurrying, the two girls contrived to +leave the house just before supper. Sir Thomas was determined that +there should be no further interview between Blanche and Don Juan. Nor +would he have one himself, until he had time to consider his course more +fully. He supped in his own chamber. Lady Enville presented herself in +the hall, and was particularly gracious; Rachel uncommonly stiff; +Margaret still and meditative; Lucrece outwardly demure, secretly +triumphant. + +Supper at the parsonage was deferred for an hour that evening, until the +guests should arrive. Mrs Tremayne received both with a motherly kiss. +Foolish as she thought Blanche, she looked upon her as being almost as +much a victim of others' folly as a sufferer for her own: and Thekla +Tremayne knew well that the knowledge that we have ourselves to thank +for our suffering does not lessen the pain, but increases it. + +The kindness with which Blanche was received--rather as an honoured +guest than as a naughty child sent to Coventry--was soothing to her +ruffled feelings. Still she had a great deal to, bear. She was deeply +grieved to be suddenly and completely parted from Don Juan; and she +imagined that he would be as much distressed as herself. But the idea +of rebelling against her father's decree never entered her head; neither +did the least suspicion of Lucrece's share in the matter. + +Blanche was rather curious to ascertain how much Clare knew of her +proceedings, and what she thought of them. Now it so happened that in +the haste of the departure, Clare had been told next to nothing. The +reason of this hasty flight to the parsonage was all darkness to her, +except for the impression which she gathered from various items that the +step thus taken had reference not to herself, but to Blanche. What her +sister had done, was doing, or was expected to do, which required such +summary stoppage, Clare could not even guess. Barbara was quite as +ignorant. The interviews between Blanche and Don Juan had been so +secret, and so little suspected, that the idea of connecting him with +the affair did not occur to either. + +One precious relic Blanche had brought with her--the lock of hair +received from Don Juan on that afternoon which was so short a time back, +and felt so terribly long--past and gone, part of another epoch +altogether. Indeed, she had not had any opportunity of parting with it, +except by yielding it to her father; and for this she saw no necessity, +since he had laid no orders on her concerning Don Juan's gifts. While +Clare knelt at her prayers, and Barbara was out of the room, Blanche +took the opportunity to indulge in another look at her treasure. It was +silky black, smooth and glossy; tied with a fragment of blue ribbon, +which Don Juan had assured her was the colour of truth. + +"Is he looking at the ringlet of fair hair which I gave him?" thought +she fondly. "He will be true to me. Whate'er betide, I know he will be +true!" + +Poor little Blanche! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. Sleeves were then separate from the dress, and were fastened +into it when put on, according to the fancy of the wearer. + +Note 2. Apparently the plaited border worn under the French cap. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +THEKLA COMES TO THE RESCUE. + + "It were a well-spent journey, + Though seven deaths lay between." + + _A.R. Cousins_. + +"Lysken, didst thou ever love any one very much?" + +Blanche spoke dreamily, as she stood leaning against the side of the +window in the parsonage parlour, and with busy idleness tied knots in +her gold chain, which at once untied themselves by their own weight. + +"Most truly," said Lysken, looking up with an expression of surprise. +"I love all here--very much." + +"Ah! but--not here?" + +"Certes. I loved Mayken Floriszoon, who died at Leyden, the day after +help came. And I loved Aunt Jacobine; and Vrouw Van Vliet, who took +care of me before I came hither. And I loved--O Blanche, how dearly!-- +my father and my mother." + +Blanche's ideas were running in one grove, and Lysken's in quite a +different one. + +"Ay, but I mean, Lysken--another sort of love." + +"Another sort!" said Lysken, looking up again from the stocking which +she was darning. "Is there any sort but one?" + +"Oh ay!" responded Blanche, feeling her experience immeasurably past +that of Lysken. + +"Thou art out of my depth, Blanche, methinks," said Lysken, re-threading +her needle in a practical unromantic way. "Love is love, for me. It +differeth, of course, in degree; we love not all alike. But, methinks, +even a man's love for God, though it be needs deeper and higher far, +must yet be the same manner of love that he hath for his father, or his +childre, or his friends. I see not how it can be otherwise." + +Blanche was shocked at the business-like style in which Lysken darned +while she talked. Had such a question been asked of herself, the +stocking would have stood still till it was settled. She doubted +whether to pursue the subject. What was the use of talking upon +thrilling topics to a girl who could darn stockings while she calmly +analysed love? Still, she wanted somebody's opinion; and she had an +instinctive suspicion that Clare would be no improvement upon her +cousin. + +"Well, but," she said hesitatingly, "there is another fashion of love, +Lysken. The sort that a woman hath toward her husband." + +"That is deeper, I guess, than she hath for her father and mother, else +would she not leave them to go with him," said Lysken quietly; "but I +see not wherein it should be another sort." + +"'Tis plain thou didst never feel the same, Lysken," returned Blanche +sentimentally. + +"How could I, when I never had an husband?" answered Lysken, darning +away tranquilly. + +"But didst thou never come across any that--that thou shouldst fain--" + +"Shouldst fain--what?" said Lysken, as Blanche paused. + +"Shouldst have liked to wed," said Blanche, plunging into the matter. + +"Gramercy, nay!" replied Lysken, turning the stocking to look at the +other side. "And I should have thought shame if I had." + +Blanche felt this speech a reflection on herself. + +"Lysken!" she cried pettishly. + +Lysken put down the stocking, and looked at Blanche. + +"What meanest thou?" she inquired, in a plain matter-of-fact style which +was extremely aggravating to that young lady. + +"Oh, 'tis to no good to tell thee," returned Blanche loftily. "Thou +wist nought at all thereabout." + +"_What_ about?" demanded Lysken, to whom Blanche was unintelligible. + +"About nought. Let be!" + +"I cannot tell wherefore thou art vexed, Blanche," said Lysken, resuming +her darning, in that calm style which is eminently provoking to any one +in a passion. + +"Thou seest not every matter in the world," retorted Blanche, with an +air of superiority. "And touching this matter, 'tis plain thou wist +nothing. Verily, thou hast gain therein; for he that hath bettered +knowledge--as saith Solomon--hath but increased sorrow." + +"Blanche, I do not know whereof thou art talking! Did I put thee out by +saying I had thought shame to have cared to wed with any, or what was +it? Why, wouldst not thou?" + +This final affront was as the last straw to the camel. Deigning no +answer, which she felt would be an angry one, Blanche marched away like +an offended queen, and sat down on a chair in the hall as if she were +enthroning herself upon a pedestal. Mrs Tremayne was in the hall, and +the door into the parlour being open, she had heard the conversation. +She made no allusion to it at the time, but tried to turn the girl's +thoughts to another topic. Gathering from it, however, the tone of +Blanche's mind, she resolved to give her a lesson which should not eject +her roughly from her imaginary pedestal--but make her come down from it +of her own accord. + +"Poor foolish child!" said Mrs Tremayne to herself. "She has mistaken +a rushlight for the sun, and she thinks her horizon wider than that of +any one else. She is despising Lysken, at this moment, as a shallow, +prosaic character, who cannot enter into the depth of her feelings, and +has not attained the height of her experience. And there are heights +and depths in Lysken that Blanche will never reach." + +Mrs Tremayne found her opportunity the next evening. She was alone +with Blanche in the parlour; and knowing pretty well what every one was +doing, she anticipated a quiet half-hour. + +Of all the persons to whom Blanche was known, there was not one so well +fitted to deal with her in this crisis as the friend in whose hands she +had been placed for safety. Thirty years before, Thekla Tremayne had +experienced a very dark trial,--had become miserably familiar with the +heart-sickness of hope deferred,--during four years when the best +beloved of Robin Tremayne had known no certainty whether he was living +or dead, but had every reason rather to fear the latter. Compared with +a deep, long-tried love like hers, this sentimental fancy over which +Blanche was making herself cross and unhappy was almost trivial. But +Mrs Tremayne knew that trouble is trouble, if it be based on folly; she +thought that she recognised in Blanche, silly though she was in some +points, a nobler nature than that of the vain, selfish, indolent mother +from whom the daughter derived many of the surface features of her +character: and she longed to see that nobler nature rouse itself to +work, and sweep away the outward vanity and giddiness. It might be that +even this would show her the real hollowness of the gilded world; that +this one hour's journey over the weary land would help to drive her for +shelter to the shadow of the great Rock. + +Blanche sat on a low stool at Mrs Tremayne's feet, gazing earnestly +into the fire. Neither had spoken for some time, during which the only +sounds were the slight movements of Mrs Tremayne as she sat at work, +and now and then a heavy sigh from Blanche. When the fifth of these was +drawn, the lady gently laid her hand on the girl's head. + +"Apothecaries say, Blanche, that sighing shorteneth life." + +Blanche looked up. "I reckon you count me but a fool, Mistress +Tremayne, as do all other." + +"Blanche," said her friend, "I will tell thee a story, and after that +thou shall judge for thyself what account I make of thee." + +Blanche looked interested, and altered her position so as to watch Mrs +Tremayne's face while she was speaking. + +"Once upon a time, Blanche,--in the days of Queen Mary,--there was a +priest that had a daughter of thine own age--sixteen years. In those +days, as I cast no doubt thou hast heard, all wedded priests were laid +under ban, and at the last a day was set whereon all they must needs +part from their wives. Though my story take root ere this, yet I pray +thee bear it in mind, for we shall come thereto anon. Well, this +damsel, with assent of her father, was troth-plight unto a young man +whom she loved very dearly; but seeing her youth, their wedding was yet +some way off. In good sooth, her father had given assent under bond +that they should not wed for three years; and the three years should be +run out in June, 1553." + +"Three years!" said Blanche, under her breath. + +"This young man was endeavouring himself for the priesthood. During the +time of King Edward, thou wist, there was no displeasure taken at +married priests; and so far as all they might see when the three years +began to run, all was like to go smooth enough. But when they were run +out, all England was trembling with fear, and men took much thought +[felt much anxiety] for the future. King Edward lay on his dying bed; +and there was good reason--ah! more reason than any man then knew!--to +fear that the fair estate of such as loved the Gospel should die with +him. For a maid then to wed a priest, or for a wedded man to receive +orders, was like to a man casting him among wild beasts: there was but a +chance that he might not be devoured. So it stood, that if this young +man would save his life, he must give up one of two things,--either the +service which for many months back he had in his own heart offered to +God, or the maiden whom, for a time well-nigh as long, he had hoped +should be his wife. What, thinkest thou, should he have done, Blanche?" + +"I wis not, in very deed, Mistress Tremayne," said Blanche, shaking her +head. "I guess he should have given up rather her,--but I know not. +Methinks it had been sore hard to give up either. And they were +troth-plight." + +"Well,--I will tell thee what they did. They did appoint a set time, at +the end whereof, should he not then have received orders (it being not +possible, all the Protestant Bishops being prisoners), he should then +resign the hope thereof, and they twain be wed. The three years, thou +wist, were then gone. They fixed the time two years more beyond,--to +run out in August, 1555--which should make five years' waiting in all." + +"And were they wed then?" said Blanche, drawing a long breath. + +"When the two further years were run out, Blanche--" + +Blanche was a little startled to hear how Mrs Tremayne's voice +trembled. She was evidently telling "an owre true tale." + +"The maid's father, and he that should have been her husband, were taken +in one day. When those two years were run out, her father lay hidden +away, having 'scaped from prison, until he might safely be holpen out of +the country over seas: and the young man was a captive in Exeter Castle, +and in daily expectation of death." + +"Good lack!" + +"And two years thereafter, the young man was had away from Exeter unto +Woburn, and there set in the dread prison called Little Ease, shaped +like to a funnel, wherein a man might neither stand, nor sit, nor lie, +nor kneel." + +"O Mistress Tremayne! Heard any ever the like! And what came of the +maiden, poor soul?" + +The needlework in Mrs Tremayne's hand was still now; and if any one had +been present who had known her thirty years before, he would have said +that a shadow of her old look at that terrible time had come back to her +deep sweet eyes. + +"My child, God allowed her to be brought very low. At the first, she +was upheld mightily by His consolations: and they that saw her said how +well she bare it. But 'tis not alway the first blush of a sorrow that +trieth the heart most sorely. And there came after this a time--when it +was an old tale to them that knew her, and their comforting was given +over,--a day came when all failed her. Nay, I should have said rather, +all seemed to fail her. God failed her not; but her eyes were holden, +and she saw Him not beside her. It was darkness, an horror of great +darkness, that fell upon her. The Devil came close enough; he was very +busy with her. Was there any hope? quoth he. Nay, none, or but very +little. Then of what worth were God's promises to hear and deliver? He +had passed His word, and He kept it not. Was God able to help?--was He +true to His promise?--go to, was there any God in Heaven at all? And +so, Blanche, she was tossed to and fro on the swelling billows, now up, +seeing a faint ray of light, now down, in the depth of the darkness: +yet, through all, with an half-palsied grasp, so to speak, upon the hem +of Christ's garment, a groping after Him with numb hands that scarce +felt whether they held or no. O Blanche, it was like the plague in the +land of Egypt--it was darkness that might be felt!" + +Blanche listened in awed interest. + +"Dear heart, the Lord hath passed word to help His people in their need; +but He saith not any where that He will alway help them right as they +would have it. We be prone to think there is but one fashion of help, +and that if we be not holpen after our own manner, we be not holpen at +all. Yet, if thou take a penny from a poor beggar, and give him in the +stead thereof an angel [half-sovereign], thou hast given him alms, +though he have lost the penny. Alas, for us poor beggars! we fall to +weeping o'er our penny till our eyes be too dim with tears to see the +gold of God's alms. Dear Blanche, I would not have thee miss the gold." + +"I scantly conceive your meaning, dear Mistress." + +"We will come back to that anon. I will first tell thee what befel her +of whom I spake." + +"Ay, I would fain hear the rest." + +"Well, there were nigh four years of that fearful darkness. She +well-nigh forgat that God might have some better thing in store for her, +to the which He was leading her all the time, along this weary road. +She thought He dealt hardly with her. At times, when the darkness was +at the thickest, she fancied that all might be a delusion: that there +was no God at all, or none that had any compassion upon men. But it was +not His meaning, to leave one of His own in that black pit of despair. +He lifted one end of the dark veil. When the four years were over,-- +that is, when Queen Elizabeth, that now is, happily succeeded to her +evil sister,--God gave the maiden back her father safe." + +Blanche uttered a glad "Oh!" + +"And He gave her more than that, Blanche. He sent her therewith a +message direct from Himself. Thou lookest on me somewhat doubtfully, +dear heart, as though thou shouldst say, Angels bring no wolds from +Heaven now o' days. Well, in very sooth, I wis not whether they do or +no. We see them not: can we speak more boldly than to say this? Yet +one thing I know, Blanche: God can send messages to His childre in their +hearts, howso they may come. And what was this word? say thine eyes. +Well, sweeting, it was the softest of all the chidings that we hear Him +to have laid on His disciples,--`O thou of little faith, wherefore didst +thou doubt?' As though He should say,--`Thou mightest have doubted of +the fulfilling of thy special hope; yet wherefore doubt _Me_? Would I +have taken pleasure in bereaving thee of aught that was not hurtful? +Could I not have given thee much more than this? Because I made thine +heart void, that I might fill it with Myself,--child, did I love thee +less, or more?'" + +Mrs Tremayne paused so long, that Blanche asked timidly--"And did he +come again at last, or no?" + +A slight, sudden movement of her friend's head showed that her thoughts +were far away, and that she came back to the present with something like +an effort. + +"Methinks, dear heart," Mrs Tremayne said lovingly, "there was a +special point whereto God did desire to bring this maiden;--a point +whereat He oft-times aimeth in the training of His childre. It is, to +be satisfied with His will. Not only to submit thereto. Thou mayest +submit unto all outward seeming, and yet be sore dissatisfied." + +Was not this Blanche's position at that moment? + +"But to be satisfied with His ordering--to receive it as the best thing, +dearer unto thee than thine own will and way; as the one thing which +thou wouldst have done, at the cost, if need be, of all other:--ah, +Blanche, 'tis no light nor easy thing, this! And unto this God led her +of whom I have been telling thee. He led her, till she could look up to +Him, and say, with a true, honest heart--`Father, lead where Thou wilt. +If in the dark, well: so Thou hold me, I am content I am Thine, body, +and soul, and spirit: it shall be well and blessed for me, if but Thy +will be done.' And then, Blanche,--when she could look up and say this +in sincerity--then He laid down His rod, and gave all back into her +bosom." + +Blanche drew a deep sigh,--partly of relief, but not altogether. + +"You knew this maiden your own self, Mrs Tremayne?" + +"Wouldst thou fain know whom the maid were, Blanche? Her name was-- +Thekla Rose." + +"Mistress Tremayne!--yourself?" + +"Myself, dear heart. And I should not have gone back over this story +now, but that I thought it might serve thee to hear it. I love not to +look back to that time, though it were to mine own good. 'Tis like an +ill wound which is healed, and thou hast no further suffering thereof: +yet the scar is there for evermore. And yet, dear Blanche, if it were +given me to choose, now, whether I would have that dark and weary time +part of my life, or no--reckoning what I should have lost without it--I +would say once again, Ay. They that know the sweetness of close walking +with God will rather grope, step by step, at His side through the +darkness, than walk smoothly in the full glare of the sun without Him: +and very street was my walk, when I had won back the felt holding of His +hand." + +"But is He not with them in the sunlight?" asked Blanche shyly. + +"He is alway with them, dear heart: but we see his light clearest when +other lights are out. And we be so prone to walk further off in the +daylight!--we see so many things beside Him. We would fain be running +off after birds and butterflies; fain be filling our hands with bright +flowers by the way: and we picture not rightly to ourselves that these +things are but to cheer us on as we step bravely forward, for there will +be flowers enough when we reach Home." + +Blanche looked earnestly into the red embers, and was silent. + +"Seest thou now, Blanche, what I meant in saying, I would not have thee +miss the gold?" + +"I reckon you mean that God hath somewhat to give, better than what He +taketh away." + +"Right, dear heart. Ah, how much better! Yet misconceive me not, my +child. We do not buy Heaven with afflictions; never think that, +Blanche. There be many that have made that blunder. Nay! the beggar +buyeth not thy gold with his penny piece. Christ hath bought Heaven for +His chosen: it is the purchase of His blood; and nothing else in all the +world could have paid for it. But they that shall see His glory yonder, +must be fitted for it here below; and oft-times God employeth sorrows +and cares to this end.--And now, Blanche, canst answer thine own +question, and tell me what I think of thee?" + +Blanche blushed scarlet. + +"I am afeared," she said, hanging down her head, "you must think me but +a right silly child." + +Mrs Tremayne stroked Blanche's hair, with a little laugh. + +"I think nothing very ill of thee, dear child. But I do think thou hast +made a blunder or twain." + +"What be they?" Blanche wished to know, more humbly than she would have +done that morning. + +"Well, dear Blanche--firstly, I think thou hast mistaken fancy for love. +There be many that so do. Many think they love another, when in truth +all they do love is themselves and their own pleasures, or the +flattering of their own vain conceits. Ask thine own heart what thou +lovest in thy lover: is it him, or his liking for thyself? If it be but +the latter, that is not love, Blanche. 'Tis but fancy, which is to love +as the waxen image to the living man. Love would have him it loveth +bettered at her own cost: it would fain see him higher and nobler--I +mean not higher in men's eyes, but nearer Heaven and God--whatever were +the price to herself. True love will go with us into Heaven, Blanche: +it can never die, nor be forgotten. Remember the word of John the +Apostle, that `he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in +him.' And wouldst thou dare to apply that holy and heavenly name unto +some vain fancy that shall be as though it had never been six months +thereafter? My child, we men and women be verily guilty concerning this +matter. We take the name of that which is the very essence of God, and +set it lightly on a thing of earth and time, the which shall perish in +the using. Well, and there is another mistake, sweet, which I fear thou +mayest have made. It may be thou art thinking wrongfully of thine +earthly father, as I did of my heavenly One. He dealeth with thee +hardly, countest thou? Well, it may be so; yet it is to save thee from +that which should be much harder. Think no ill of the father who loveth +thee and would fain save thee. And, O Blanche! howsoever He may deal +with thee, never, never do thou think hardly of that heavenly Father, +who loveth thee far dearer than he, and would save thee from far +bitterer woe." + +Blanche had looked very awe-struck when Mrs Tremayne spoke so solemnly +of the real nature of love; and now she raised tearful eyes to her +friend's face. + +"I thought none ill of my father, Mistress Tremayne. I wis well he +loveth me." + +"That is well, dear heart. I am fain it should be so." + +And there the subject dropped rather abruptly, as first Clare, and then +Arthur, came into the room. + +Don Juan did not appear to: miss Blanche, after the first day. When he +found that she and her father and sister were absent from the +supper-table, he looked round with some surprise and a little +perplexity; but he asked no question, and no one volunteered an +explanation. He very soon found a new diversion, in the shape of +Lucrece, to whom he proceeded to address his flowery language with even +less sincerity than he had done to Blanche. But no sooner did Sir +Thomas perceive this turn of affairs than he took the earliest +opportunity of sternly demanding of his troublesome prisoner "what he +meant?" + +Don Juan professed entire ignorance of the purport of this question. +Sir Thomas angrily explained. + +"Nay, Senor, what would you?" inquired the young Spaniard, with an air +of injured innocence. "An Andalusian gentleman, wheresoever he may be, +and in what conditions, must always show respect to the ladies." + +"Respect!" cried the enraged squire. "Do Spanish gentlemen call such +manner of talk showing respect? Thank Heaven that I was born in +England! Sir, when an English gentleman carries himself toward a young +maiden as you have done, he either designs to win her in honourable +wedlock, or he is a villain. Which are you?" + +"If we were in Spain, Senor," answered Don Juan, fire flashing from his +dark eyes, "you would answer those words with your sword. But since I +am your prisoner, and have no such remedy, I must be content with a +reply in speech. The customs of your land are different from ours. I +will even condescend to say that I am, and for divers years have so +been, affianced to a lady of mine own country. Towards the _senoritas_ +your daughters, I have shown but common courtesy, as it is understood in +Spain." + +In saying which, Don Juan stated what was delicately termed by Swift's +Houynhnms, "the thing which is not." Of what consequence was it in his +eyes, when the Council of Constance had definitively decreed that "no +faith was to be kept with heretics"? + +Sir Thomas Enville was less given to the use of profane language than +most gentlemen of his day, but in answer to this speech he swore +roundly, and--though a staunch Protestant--thanked all the saints and +angels that he never was in Spain, and, the Queen's Highness' commands +excepted, never would be. As to his daughters, he would prefer turning +them all into Nebuchadnezzar's fiery furnace to allowing one of them to +set foot on the soil of that highly objectionable country. These +sentiments were couched in the most peppery language of which the +Squire's lips were well capable; and having thus delivered himself, he +turned on his heel and left Don Juan to his own meditations. + +That _caballero_ speedily discovered that he had addressed his last +compliment to any of the young ladies at Enville Court. Henceforward he +only saw them at meals, and then he found himself, much to his +discomfiture, placed between Jack and Mistress Rachel. To pay delicate +attentions to the latter was sheer waste of frankincense: yet it was so +much in his nature, when speaking to a woman, that he began to tell her +that she talked like an angel. Mistress Rachel looked him full in the +face. + +"Don John," said she, in the most unmoved manner, "if I believed you +true, I should call on my brother to put you forth of the hall. As I +believe you false, I do it not." + +After that day, Don Juan directed all his conversation to Jack. + +He was not very sorry to leave Enville Court, which had become no longer +an amusing, but an uncomfortable place. In his eyes, it was perfectly +monstrous that any man should object to his daughters being honoured by +the condescending notice of an Andalusian gentleman, who would one day +be a grandee of the first class; utterly preposterous! But since this +unreasonable man was so absurd as to object to the distinction, +conferred upon his house, it was as well that an Andalusian gentleman +should be out of his sphere. So Don Juan went willingly to London. +Friends of his parents made suit for him, and Elizabeth herself +remembered his mother, as one who had done her several little +kindnesses, such as a Lady-in-Waiting on the Queen could do for a +Princess under a cloud; and Don Juan received a free pardon, and leave +to return home when and as he would. He only broke one more heart while +he remained in England; and that was beneath any regret on his part, +being only a poor, insignificant grocer's daughter. And then he sailed +for Spain; and then he married Dona Lisarda; and then he became a +Lord-in-Waiting; and then he lived a wealthy, gorgeous, prosperous life; +and then all men spoke well of him, seeing how much good he had done to +himself; and then he grew old,--a highly respected, highly +self-satisfied man. + +And then his soul was required of him. Did God say to him,--"Thou +fool"? + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +TOO ABSTRUSE FOR BLANCHE. + + "Hear the just law, the judgment of the skies! + He that hates truth shall be the dupe of lies; + And he that _will_ be cheated to the last, + Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast." + + _Cowper_. + +"I did conceive, Mistress Blanche," said Mr Tremayne one morning, as +the party rose from the breakfast-table, "that you would with a good +will see the picture of Clare's grandsire, the which hangeth in my +study-chamber?" + +"Oh ay, an' it like you," responded Blanche eagerly. + +Clare had seen the portrait, but not Blanche. Mr Tremayne led the way +to his study, allowed her to examine the likeness at her leisure, and +answered all her questions about John Avery. Entrapped Blanche did not +realise that he was catching her with the same sort of guile which Saint +Paul used towards the Corinthians. [2 Corinthians 12, 16] Mrs Tremayne +came in, and sat down quietly with her work, before the inspection was +over. When her curiosity was at length satisfied, Blanche thanked Mr +Tremayne, and would have left the room with a courtesy: but such was by +no means the intention of her pastor. + +"I have heard, say, Mistress Blanche," said he quietly, "that your mind +hath been somewhat unsettled touching the difference, or the lack of +difference, betwixt us and the Papists. If so be, pray you sit down, +and give us leave to talk the same over." + +Blanche felt caught at last. It must be Sir Thomas, of course, who had +told the Rector, for there was no one else who could have done it. And +it may be added, though Blanche did not know it, that her father had +specially begged Mr Tremayne to examine into the matter, and to set +Blanche right on any points whereon she might have gone wrong. + +Thus brought to a stand and forced to action, it was Blanche's nature to +behave after the manner of a mule in the same predicament, and to affect +stronger contrary convictions than she really felt. It was true, she +said rather bluntly: she did think there was very little, if any, +difference between many doctrines held by the rival Churches. + +"There is all the difference that is betwixt Heaven and earth," answered +Mr Tremayne. "Nay, I had well-nigh said, betwixt Heaven and Hell: for +I do believe the Devil to have been the perverter of truth with those +corruptions that are in Papistry. But I pray you, of your gentleness, +to tell me of one matter wherein, as you account, no difference lieth?" + +With what power of intellect she had--which was not much--Blanche +mentally ran over the list, and selected the item on which she thought +Mr Tremayne would find least to say. + +"It seemeth me you be too rude [harsh, severe] to charge the Papists +with idolatry," she said. "They be no more idolaters than we." + +"No be they? How so, I pray you?" + +"Why, the images in their churches be but for the teaching of such as +cannot read, nor do they any worship unto the image, but only unto him +that is signified thereby. Moreover, they pray not unto the saints, as +you would have it; they do but ask the saints' prayers for them. Surely +I may ask my father to pray for me, and you would not say that I prayed +unto him!" + +"I pray you, pull bridle there, Mistress Blanche," said Mr Tremayne, +smiling; "for you have raised already four weighty points, the which may +not be expounded in a moment. I take them, an' it like you, not justly +in your order, but rather in the order wherein they do affect each +other. And first, under your good pleasure,--what is prayer?" + +Blanche was about to reply at once, when it struck her that the question +involved more than she supposed. She would have answered,--"Why, saying +my prayers:" but the idea came to her, _Was_ that prayer? And she felt +instinctively that, necessarily, it was not. She thought a moment, and +then answered slowly;-- + +"I would say that it is to ask somewhat with full desire to obtain the +same." + +"Is that all?" replied Mr Tremayne. + +Blanche thought so. + +"Methinks there is more therein than so. For it implieth, beyond this, +full belief that he whom you shall ask,--firstly, can hear you; +secondly, is able to grant you; thirdly, is willing to grant you." + +"Surely the saints be willing to pray for us!" + +"How know you they can hear us?" + +Blanche thought, and thought, and could find no reason for supposing it. + +"Again, how know you they can grant us?" + +"But they pray!" + +"They praise, and they hold communion: I know not whether they offer +petitions or no." + +Blanche sat meditating. + +"You see, therefore, there is no certainty on the first and most weighty +of all these points. We know not that any saint can hear us. But pass +that--grant, for our talk's sake, that they have knowledge of what +passeth on earth, and can hear when we do speak to them. How then? +Here is Saint Mary, our Lord's mother, sitting in Heaven; and upon earth +there be petitions a-coming up unto her, at one time, from Loretto in +Italy, and from Nuremburg in Germany, and from Seville in Spain, and +from Bruges in Flanders, and from Paris in France, and from Bideford in +Devon, and from Kirkham in Lancashire. Mistress Blanche, if she can +hear and make distinction betwixt all these at the self-same moment, +then is she no woman like to you. Your brain should be mazed with the +din, and spent with the labour. Invocation declareth omnipotency. And +there is none almighty save One,--that is, God." + +"But," urged Blanche, "the body may be one whither, and the spirit +another. And Saint Mary is a spirit." + +"Truly so. Yet the spirit can scantly be in ten places at one time--how +much less a thousand?" + +Blanche was silent. + +"The next thing, I take it, is that they pray not unto the saints, but +do ask the saints only to pray for them. If the saints hear them not, +the one is as futile as the other. But I deny that they do not pray +unto the saints." + +Mr Tremayne went to his bookcase, and came back with a volume in his +hand. + +"Listen here, I pray you--`Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, and after Him +mine only hope, pray for me, and guard me during this night'--`Give me +power to fight against thine enemies'--`Great God, who by the +resurrection of Thy Son Jesus Christ hast rejoiced the world, we pray +Thee, grant that by His blessed mother the Virgin Mary we may obtain the +bliss of eternal life'--`Make mine heart to burn with love for Jesus +Christ,--make me to feel the death of Jesus Christ in mine heart,--cause +to be given unto us the joys of Paradise--O Jesu! O Mary! cause me to +be truly troubled for my sins.' These, Mistress Blanche, be from the +book that is the Common Prayer of the Papistical Church: and all these +words be spoken unto Mary. As you well see, I cast no doubt, they do +ascribe unto her divinity. For none can effectually work upon man's +heart--save the Holy Ghost only. None other can cause his heart to be +`truly troubled for sin;' none other can make his heart to burn. Now +what think you of this, Mistress Blanche? Is it praying unto the +saints, or no?" + +What Blanche thought, she did not say; but if it could be guessed from +the expression of her face, she was both shocked and astonished. + +"Now come we to the third point: to wit, that images be as pictures for +the teaching of such as have no learning. Methinks, Mistress Blanche, +that God is like to be wiser than all men. There must needs have been +many Israelites in the wilderness that had no learning: yet His command +unto them, as unto us, is, `Ye shall not make unto you _any_ graven +image.' I take it that the small good that might thereby be done +(supposing any such to be) should be utterly overborne of the companying +evil. Moreover, when you do learn the vulgar, you would, I hope, learn +them that which is true. Is it true, I pray you, that Mary was borne +into Heaven of angels, like as Christ did Himself ascend?--or that being +thus carried thither, she was crowned of God, as a queen? Dear maid, we +have the Master's word touching all such, pourtrayments. `The graven +images of _their_ gods shall ye burn with fire.--Thou shalt utterly +detest it, and thou shalt utterly abhor it; for it is a cursed thing.'" +[Deuteronomy twelve, verses 25, 26.] + +"O Mr Tremayne!" said Blanche, with a horrified look. "You would +surely ne'er call a picture or an image of our Lord's own mother a thing +accursed?" + +"But I would, my maid," he answered very gravely, "that instant moment +that there should be given thereunto the honour and worship and glory +that be only due to Him. `My glory will I not give to another, neither +My praise to graven images.' Nay, I would call an image of Christ +Himself a thing accursed, if it stood in His place in the hearts of men. +Mark you, King Hezekiah utterly destroyed the serpent of brass that was +God's own appointed likeness of Christ, that moment that the children of +Israel did begin to burn incense unto it, thereby making it an idol." + +"But in the Papistical Church they be no idols, Master Tremayne!" +interposed Blanche eagerly. "Therein lieth the difference betwixt +Popery and Paganism." + +"What should you say, Mistress Blanche, if you wist that therein lieth +_no_ difference betwixt Popery and Paganism? The old Pagans were wont +to say the same thing. [Note 1.] They should have laughed in your face +if you had charged them with worshipping wood and stone, and have +answered that they worshipped only the thing signified. So much is it +thus, that amongst some Pagan nations, they do hold that their god +cometh down in his proper person into the image for a season (like as +the Papists into the wafer of the sacrament), and when they account him +gone, they cast the image away as no more worth. Yet hark you how God +Himself accounteth of this their worship. `He maketh a god, even his +graven image: he falleth down unto IT, and worshippeth IT, and prayeth +unto IT, and saith, Deliver me, for thou art my god.' And list also how +He expoundeth the same:--`A deceived heart hath turned him aside, that +he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a lie in my right +hand?' [Isaiah 44, verses 17, 20.] There should be little idolatry in +this world if there were no deceived hearts." + +Blanche twisted her handkerchief about, in the manner of a person who is +determined not to be convinced, yet can find nothing to say in answer. + +"Tell me, Mistress Blanche,--for I think too well of your good sense to +doubt the same,--you cannot believe that Christ Himself is in a piece of +bread?" + +In her inmost heart she certainly believed no such thing. But it would +never do to retreat from her position. In Blanche's eyes, disgrace lay +not in being mistaken, but in being shown the mistake. + +"Wherefore may it not be so?" she murmured. "'Tis matter of faith, in +like manner as is our Lord's resurrection." + +"In like manner? I cry you mercy. You believe the resurrection on the +witness of them that knew it--that saw the sepulchre void; that saw +Christ, and spake with Him, and did eat and drink with Him, and knew Him +to be the very same Jesus that had died. You can bear no witness either +way, for you were not there. But in this matter of the bread, here are +you; and you see it for yourself not to be as you be told. Your eyes +tell you that they behold bread; your hands tell you that they handle +bread; your tongue tells you that it tasteth bread. The witness of your +senses is in question: and these three do agree that the matter is bread +only." + +"The senses may be deceived, I reckon?" + +"The senses may be deceived; and, as meseemeth, after two fashions: +firstly, when the senses themselves be not in full healthfulness and +vigour. Thus, if a man have some malady in his eyes, that he know +himself to see things mistakenly, from the relation of other around him, +then may he doubt what his eyes see with regard to this matter. +Secondly, a man must not lean on his senses touching matters that come +not within the discerning of sense. Now in regard to this bread, the +Papists do overreach themselves. Did they but tell us that the change +made was mystical and of faith,--not within the discernment of sense--we +might then find it harder work to deal withal, and we must seek unto the +Word of God only, and not unto our sense in any wise. But they go +farther: they tell us the change is such, that there is _no more the +substance of bread left at all_. [Note 2.] This therefore is matter +within the discerning of sense. If it be thus, then this change is +needs one that I can see, can taste, can handle. I know, at my own +table, whether I eat flesh or bread; how then should I be unable to know +the same at the table of the Lord? Make it matter of sense, and I must +needs submit it to the judgment of my senses. But now to take the other +matter,--to wit, of faith. Christ said unto the Jews, `The bread which +I will give is My flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.' +They took Him right as the Papists do. They `strave among themselves, +saying, How shall this man give us his flesh to eat?' Now mark you our +Lord's answer. Doth He say, `Ye do ill to question this matter; 'tis a +mystery of the Church; try it not by sense, but believe?' Nay, He +openeth the door somewhat wider, and letteth in another ray of light +upon the signification of His words. He saith to them,--`Except ye eat +the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink His blood, ye have _no life_ in +you.' I pray you, what manner of life? Surely not the common life of +nature, for that may be sustained by other food. The life, then, is a +spiritual life; and how shall spiritual life be sustained by natural +meat? The meat must be spiritual, if the life be so. Again He +saith,--`He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, dwelleth in Me, +and I in him.' Now, if the eating be after a literal manner, so also +must be the dwelling. Our bodies, therefore, must be withinside the +body of Christ in Heaven, and His body must be withinside every one of +ours on earth. That this is impossible and ridiculous alike, I need not +to tell you. Mistress Blanche, faith is not to believe whatsoever any +shall tell you. It is less to believe a thing than to trust a man. And +I can only trust a man on due testimony that he is worthy trust." + +"But this is to trust Christ our Lord," said Blanche. + +"Ay so, my maid? Or is it rather to trust our own fantasy of what +Christ would say?" + +Blanche was silent for a moment; then she answered,--"But He did say, +`This is My body.'" + +"Will you go further, an' it like you?" + +"How, Master Tremayne?" + +"`This is My body, which is broken for you.' Was the bread that He held +in His hand the body that was broken? Did that morsel of bread take +away the sin of the world? Look you, right in so far as the bread was +the body, in so far also was the breaking of that bread the death of +that body,--and no further. Now, Mistress Blanche, was the breaking of +the bread the death of the body? Think thereon, and answer me." + +"It was an emblem or representation thereof, no doubt," she said slowly. + +"Good. Then, inasmuch as the breaking did set forth the death, in so +much did the bread set forth the body. If the one be an emblem, so must +be the other." + +"That may be, perchance," said Blanche, sheering off from the subject, +as she found it passing beyond her, and requiring the troublesome effort +of thought: "but, Master Tremayne, there is one other matter whereon the +speech of you Gospellers verily offendeth me no little." + +"Pray you, tell me what it is, Mistress Blanche." + +"It is the little honour, or I might well say the dishonour, that you do +put upon Saint Mary the blessed Virgin. Surely, of all that He knew and +loved on this earth, she must have been the dearest unto our Lord. Why +then thus scrimp and scant the reverence due unto her? Verily, in this +matter, the Papists do more meetly than you." + +"`More meetly'--wherewith, Mistress Blanche? With the truth of Holy +Scripture, or with the fantasies of human nature?" + +"I would say," repeated Blanche rather warmly, "that her honour must be +very dear to her blessed Son." + +"There is one honour ten thousand-fold dearer unto His heart, my maid, +and that is the honour of God His eternal Father. All honour, that +toucheth not this, I am ready to pay to her. But tell me wherefore you +think she must be His dearest?" + +"Because it must needs be thus," replied illogical Blanche. + +"I would ask you to remember, Mistress Blanche, that He hath told us the +clean contrary." + +Blanche looked up with an astonished expression. + +"`Whosoever shall do the will of My Father which is in Heaven, the same +is My brother, and sister, and mother.' Equally honourable, equally +dear, with that mother of His flesh whom you would fain upraise above +all other women. And I am likewise disposed to think that word of +Paul,--`Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now +henceforth know we Him no more'--I say, I am disposed to think this may +have his reverse side. Though He hath known us after the flesh, yet +thus, now that He is exalted to the right hand of God, He knoweth us no +more. And if so, then Mary is now unto Him but one of a multitude of +saved souls, all equally fair and dear and precious in the eyes of Him +that died for them." + +"O Master Tremayne!" + +"What would you say, Mistress Blanche?" + +"That is truly--it sounds so cold!" said Blanche, disparagingly. + +"Doth it so?" asked the Rector, smiling. "Cold, that all should be +beloved of His heart? Dear maid, 'tis not that He loveth her the less, +but that He loveth the other more." + +As Blanche made no response, Mr Tremayne went on. + +"There is another side to this matter, Mistress Blanche, that I daresay +you have ne'er looked upon: and it toucheth at once the matter of +images, and the reverence due unto Saint Mary. Know you that great part +of the images held in worship for her by the Papists, be no images of +her at all? All the most ancient--and many be very ancient--were ne'er +made for Mary. The marvel-working black Virgins--our Lady of +Einsiedeln, our Lady of Loretto, and all such--be in very truth old +idols, of a certain Tuscan or Etruscan goddess, elder than the days of +the Romans. [Note 3.] Again, all they that are of fair complexion--such +as have grey eyes [blue eyes were then called grey] and yellow hair-- +these be not Mary the Jewess. We can cast no doubt she was dark. +Whence then come all these fair-complexioned pictures? We might take +it, in all likelihood, from the fancy of the painters, that did account +a fair woman to be of better favour than a dark. But search you into +past history, and you shall find it not thus. These fair-favoured +pictures be all of another than Mary; to wit, of that ancient goddess, +in her original of the Babylonians, that was worshipped under divers +names all over the world,--in Egypt as Isis; in Greece, as Athene, +Artemis, and Aphrodite; in Rome as Juno, Diana, and Venus: truly, every +goddess was but a diversity of this one. [Note 4.] These, then, be no +pictures of the Maid of Nazareth. And 'tis the like of other images,-- +they be christened idols. The famed Saint Peter, in his church at Rome +is but a christened Jupiter. Wit you how Paganism was got rid of? It +was by receiving of it into the very bosom of the Roman Church. The +ceremonies of the Pagans were but turned,--from Ceres, Cybele, Isis, or +Aphrodite, unto Mary--from Apollo, Bacchus, Osiris, Tammuz, unto Christ. +Thus, when these Pagans found that they did in very deed worship the +same god, and with the same observances, as of old--for the change was +in nothing save the name only--they became Christians by handfuls;--yea, +by cityfuls. What marvel, I pray you? But how shall we call this +Church of Rome, that thus bewrayed her trust, and sold her Lord again +like Judas? An idolatrous Christianity--nay, rather a baptised +idolatry! God hath writ her name, Mistress Blanche, on the last page of +His Word; and it is, Babylon, Mother of all Abominations." + +"I do marvel, Master Tremayne," said Blanche a little indignantly, +though in a constrained voice, "how you dare bring such ill charges +against the Papistical Church. Do they not set great store by holiness, +I pray you? Yea, have they not monks and nuns, and a celibate +priesthood, consecrate to greater holiness than other? How can you +charge them with wickedness and abomination?" + +"Poor child!" murmured the Rector, as if to himself,--"she little wist +what manner of life idolaters term holiness! Mistress Blanche, yonder +cloak of professed holiness hideth worser matter than you can so much as +think on. 'Tis not I that set that name on the Papistical Church. It +was God Himself. Will you tell me, moreover, an' it like you,--What is +holiness?" + +"Goodness--right-doing." + +"Those be unclear words, methinks. They may mean well-nigh aught. For +me, I would say, Holiness is walking with God, and according to the will +of God." + +"Well! Is not God pleased with the doing of good?" + +"God is pleased with nothing but Christ. He is not pleased with you +because of your deeds. He must first accept _you_, and that not for any +your deserving, but for the sake of the alone merits of His Son; and +then He shall be pleased with your deeds, since they shall be such as +His Spirit shall work in you. But nothing can please God except that +which cometh from God. Your works, apart from Him, be dead works. And +you cannot serve the living God with dead works." + +Blanche's half-unconscious shrug of the shoulders conveyed the +information that this doctrine was not agreeable to her. + +"Surely God will be pleased with us if we do out best!" she muttered. + +"By no means," said Mr Tremayne quietly. "Your best is not good enough +for God. He likeneth that best of yours to filthy rags. What should +you say to one that brought you a present of filthy rags, so foul that +you could not so much as touch them?" + +Blanche, who was extremely dainty as to what she touched, quite +appreciated this simile. She found an answer, nevertheless. + +"God is merciful, Mr Tremayne. You picture Him as hard and unpitiful." + +"Verily, Mistress Blanche, God is merciful: more than you nor I may +conceive. But God hath no mercies outside of Christ. Come to Him +bringing aught in your hand save Christ, and He hath nought to say to +you. And be you ware that you cannot come and bring nothing. If you +bring not Christ, assuredly you shall bring somewhat else,--your own +works, or your own sufferings, or in some manner your own deservings. +And for him that cometh with his own demerits in hand, God hath nought +saving the one thing he hath indeed demerited,--which is--Hell." + +Mr Tremayne spoke so solemnly that Blanche felt awed. But she did not +relish the doctrine which he preached any better on that account. + +"How have I demerited that?" she asked. + +"God Himself shall answer you. `He that hath not the Son of God hath +not life.' `He that believeth not is condemned already.'" + +"But I do believe--all Christians believe!" urged Blanche. + +"What believe you?" + +"I believe unfeignedly all that the creed saith touching our Lord." + +"And I believe as unfeignedly all that the Commentaries of Caesar say +touching that same Julius Caesar." + +"What mean you, Master Tremayne?" + +"What did Julius Caesar for me, Mistress Blanche?" + +"Marry, nought at all," said Blanche, laughing, "without his invading of +England should have procured unto us some civility which else we had +lacked." + +Civility, at that time, meant civilisation. When, according to the +wondrous dreamer of Bedford Gaol, Mr Worldly Wiseman referred +Christian, if he should not find Mr Legality at home, to the pretty +young man called Civility, whom he had to his son, and who could take +off a burden as well as the old gentleman himself,--he meant, not what +we call civility, but what we call civilisation. That pretty young man +is at present the most popular physician of the day; and he still goes +to the town of Morality to church. The road to his house is crowded +more than ever, though the warning has been standing for two hundred +years, that "notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a +hypocrite,"--as well as another warning far older,--"Behold, the fear of +the Lord, that is wisdom." [Job twenty-eight verse 28.] + +"But now," said the Rector, with an answering smile, "tell me, what did +Jesus Christ for me?" + +"He is the Saviour," she said in a low voice. + +"Of whom, dear maid?" + +Blanche felt rather vague on that point, and the feeling was combined +with a conviction that she ought not to be so. She tried to give an +answer which could not be contradicted. + +"Of them that believe." + +"Certes," said Mr Tremayne, suppressing a smile, for he saw both +Blanche's difficulty and her attempt to evade it. "But that, look you, +landeth us on the self place where we were at aforetime: who be they +that believe?" + +Blanche wisely determined to commit herself no further. + +"Would it please you to tell me, Sir?" + +"Dear child, if you heard me to say, touching some man that we both were +acquaint withal,--`I believe in John'--what should you conceive that I +did signify?" + +"I would account," said Blanche readily, thinking this question easy to +answer, "that you did mean, `I account of him as a true man; I trust +him; I hold him well worthy of affiance.'" + +"Good. And if, after thus saying, you should see me loth to trust an +half-angel into his hands to spend for me,--should you think that mine +act did go with my words, or no?" + +"Assuredly, nay." + +"Then look you, Mistress Blanche, that it is greater matter than you +maybe made account, when a man shall say, `I believe in Jesus Christ.' +For it signifieth not only that I believe He was born, and lived, and +suffered, and arose, and ascended. Nay, but it is, I account of Him as +a true man; I trust Him, with body and soul, with friends and goods: I +hold Him worthy of all affiance, and I will hold back nothing, neither +myself nor my having, from His keeping and disposing. (Ah, my maid! +which of us can say so much as this, at all times, and of all matters?) +But above all, in the relation whereof we have spoken, it is to say, I +trust Christ with my soul. I lean it wholly upon Him. I have no hope +in myself; He is mine hope. I have no righteousness of myself; He is my +righteousness. I have no standing before God,--I demerit nought but +hell; but Christ standeth before God for me: His blood hath washed me +clean from all sin, and His pleading with God availeth to hold me up in +His ways. And unless or until you can from your heart thus speak I pray +you say not again that you believe in Jesus Christ." + +"But, Master, every man cannot thus believe." + +"No man can thus believe until God have taught him." + +Blanche thought, but was not bold enough to say, that she did not see +why anybody should believe such disagreeable things about himself. She +did not feel this low opinion of her own merits. Hers was the natural +religion of professing Christians--that she must do the best she could, +and Christ would make up the remainder. Mr Tremayne knew what was +passing in her mind as well as if she had spoken it. + +"You think that is hard?" said he. + +"_I_ think it--Mr Tremayne, I could not thus account of myself." + +"You could not, dear maid. I am assured of that." + +"Then wherein lieth my fault?" demanded Blanche. + +"In that you will not." + +Blanche felt stung; and she spoke out now, with one of those bursts of +confidence which came from her now and then. + +"That is sooth, Master. I will not. I have not committed such sins as +have many men and women. I ne'er stole, nor murdered, nor used profane +swearing, nor worshipped idols, nor did many another ill matter: and I +cannot believe but that God shall be more merciful to such than to the +evil fawtors [factors, doers] that be in the world. Where were His +justice, if no?" + +"Mistress Blanche, you wit neither what is God, neither what is sin. +The pure and holy law of God is like to a golden ring. You account, +that because you have not broken it on this side, nor on that side, you +have not broken it at all. But if you break it on any side, it is +broken; and you it is that have broken it." + +"Wherein have I broken it?" she asked defiantly. + +"`All unrighteousness is sin.' Have you alway done rightly, all your +life long? If not, then you are a sinner." + +"Oh, of course, we be all sinners," said Blanche, as if that were a very +slight admission. + +"Good. And a sinner is a condemned criminal. He is not come into this +world to see if he may perchance do well, and stand: he is already +fallen; he is already under condemnation of law." + +"Then 'tis even as I said,--there is no fault in any of us," maintained +Blanche, sturdily clinging to her point. + +"`This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men +loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.'" + +"Nay, Master Tremayne, you be now too hard on me. I love not darkness +rather than light." + +"God saith you so do, dear maid. And He knoweth--ay, better than +yourself. But look not only on that side of the matter. If a man +believe that and no more, 'tis fit to drive him unto desperation. Look +up unto the writing which is over the gate into God's narrow way--the +gate and the way likewise being His Son Jesus Christ--and read His +message of peace sent unto these sinners. `Whosoever will, let him take +the water of life freely.' It is God's ordering, that whosoever _will_, +he can." + +"You said but this last Sunday, Master Tremayne, that 'twas not possible +for any man to come to Christ without God did draw him thereto." + +"_I_ said, my maid? My Master it was which said that. Well--what so?" + +"Then we can have nought to answer for; for without God do draw us, we +cannot come." + +"And without we be willing to be thus drawn, God will not do it." + +"Nay, but you said, moreover, that the very will must come from God." + +"Therein I spake truth." + +Blanche thought she had now driven her pastor into a corner. + +"Then you do allow," she asked triumphantly, "that if I should not will +the same, I am clean of all fault, sith the very will must needs come +from God?" + +Mr Tremayne understood the drift of his catechumen. + +"An' it like you, Mistress Blanche, we will leave a moment to make +inquiry into that point, till we shall have settled another, of more +import to you and me." + +"What is it, Master?" + +"Are you willing?" + +"Willing that I should be saved eternally? Most assuredly." + +"Then--willing that all the will of God shall be done, in you and by +you?" + +"The one followeth not the other." + +"I cry you mercy. The King of kings, like other princes, dealeth with +His rebels on his own terms." + +Blanche was silent, and, very uncomfortable. + +"'Tis time for me to be about my duties. When you shall have fully +settled that point of your willingness, Mistress Blanche, and shall have +determined that you are thus willing--which God grant!--then, an' it +like you, we will go into the other matter." + +And Mr Tremayne left the room with a bow, very well knowing that as +soon as the first point was satisfactorily settled, the second would be +left quiescent. + +Mrs Tremayne had never opened her lips; and leaving her in the study, +Blanche wandered into the parlour, where Clare and Lysken were seated at +work. + +"I marvel what Master Tremayne would have!" said Blanche, sitting down +in the window, and idly pulling the dead leaves from the plant which +stood there. "He saith 'tis our own fault that we will not to be saved, +and yet in the self breath he addeth that the will so to be must needs +be given us of God." + +Lysken looked up. + +"Methinks we are all willing enow to be saved from punishment," she +said. "What we be unwilling to be saved from is sin." + +"`Sin'--alway sin!" muttered Blanche. "Ye be both of a story. Sin is +wickedness. I am not wicked." + +"Sin is the disobeying of God," replied Lysken. "And saving thy +presence, Blanche, thou art wicked." + +"Then so art thou!" retorted Blanche. + +"So I am," said Lysken. "But I am willing to be saved therefrom." + +"Prithee, Mistress Elizabeth Barnevelt, from what sin am I not willing +to be saved?" + +"Dost truly wish to know?" asked Lysken in her coolest manner. + +"Certes!" + +"Then--pride." + +"Pride is no sin!" + +"I love not gainsaying, Blanche. But I dare in no wise gainsay the +Lord. And He saith of pride, that it is an abomination unto Him, and He +hateth it." [Proverbs six, verse 16; and sixteen verse 5.] + +"But that is ill and sinful pride," urged Blanche. "There is proper +pride." + +"It seemeth to my poor wits," said Lysken, "that a thing which the Lord +hateth must be all of it improper." + +"Why, Lysken! Thus saying, thou shouldst condemn all high spirit and +noble bearing!" + +"`Blessed are the poor in spirit.' There was no pride in Christ, +Blanche. And thou wilt scarce say that He bare Him not nobly." + +"Why, then, we might as well all be peasants!" + +"I suppose we might, if we were," said Lysken. + +"Lysken, it should be a right strange world, where thou hadst the +governance!" + +"Very like," was Lysken's calm rejoinder, as she set the pin a little +further in her seam. + +"What good is it, prithee, to set thee up against all men's opinion? +[What are now termed `views' were then called `opinions.'] Thou shalt +but win scorn for thine." + +"Were it only mine, Blanche, it should be to no good. But when it is +God's command wherewith mine opinion runneth,--why then, the good shall +be to hear Christ say, `Well done, faithful servant.' The scorn I bare +here shall be light weight then." + +"But wherefore not go smoothly through the world?" + +"Because it should cost too much." + +"Nay, what now?" remonstrated Blanche. + +"I have two lives, Blanche: and I cannot have my best things in both. +The one is short and passing; the other is unchangeable, and shall stand +for ever. Now then, I would like my treasures for the second of these +two lives: and if I miss any good thing in the first, it shall be no +great matter." + +"Thou art a right Puritan!" said Blanche disgustedly. + +"Call not names, Blanche," gently interposed Clare. + +"Dear Clare, it makes he difference," said Lysken. "If any call me a +Papist, 'twill not make me one." + +"Lysken Barnevelt, is there aught in this world would move thee?" + +"`In this world?' Well, but little, methinks. But--there will be some +things in the other." + +"What things?" bluntly demanded Blanche. + +"To see His Face!" said Lysken, the light breaking over her own. "And +to hear Him say, `Come!' And to sit down at the marriage-supper of the +Lamb,--with the outer door closed for ever, and the woes, and the +wolves, and the winter, all left on the outside. If none of these +earthly things move me, Blanche, it is because those heavenly things +will." + +And after that, Blanche was silent. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. The Gentiles (saith Saint Augustine), which seem to be of the +purer religion, say, We worship not the images, but by the corporal +image we do behold the signs of the things which we ought to worship. +And Lactantius saith, The Gentiles say, We fear not the images, but them +after whose likeness the images be made, and to whose names they be +consecrated. And Clemens saith, That serpent the Devil uttereth these +words by the mouth of certain men: We, to the honour of the invisible +God, worship visible images.--(Third Part of the Homily on Peril of +Idolatry: references in margin to Augustine Ps. 135; Lactantius l. 2. +Inst.; Clem., L. S ad Jacob.) Here are the "Fathers" condemning as +Pagan the reasoning of modern Papists. + +Note 2. "Credit et defendit que in eucharistia sive altaris sacramento +verum et naturalem Christi corpus ac verus et naturalis Christi sanguis +sub speciebus panis et vini vere non est; et quod _ibi est materialis +panis et materiale vinum_ tantum absque veritati et presentia corporis +et sanguinis Christi."--Indictment of Reverend Lawrence Saunders, +January 30, 1555; Harl. MS. 421, folio 44. + +"Tenes et defendes in prout quod in eucharistia sive sacramento altaris +verum naturalem et realem Christi corpus ac verus naturalis et realis +Christi sanguis sub speciebus panis et vini vere non est, sed _post +consecratione remanet substantia panis et vini_."--Indictment of +Reverend Thomas Rose, May 31, 1555; Harl. MS. 421, folio 188. + +Note 3. There is the initial M on the pedestal of one or more of these +black Virgins, which of course the priests interpret as Mary. This is +certainly not the case. It has been suggested that it stands for Maia, +a name of the Tuscan goddess. May it not be the initial of Mylitta, +"the Mediatrix," one of the favourite names of the great original +goddess? + +Note 4. See Hislop's _Two Babylons_, pages 22, 122, 491, et aliis; and +Shepheard's _Traditions of Eden_, page 117, note (where many references +are given), and page 188. + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +COUNSEL'S OPINION. + + "A cross of gold, of silver, or of wood, + Or of mean straw, hid in each shape of life; + Some trial working for eternal good, + Found in our outward state or inward strife." + +"Bab! Art thou yonder?" + +"Is it Jennet?" + +"Ay. There's a gentlewoman i' th' bower to see thee." + +"Nay,--a gentlewoman! Who can it be?" + +"I've told thee all I know. Hoo [she] wanted Mistress Clare; and I said +hoo were down at th' parsonage; then hoo said, `Is Barbara Polwhele +here?' And I said, `Ay, hoo's come o'er to fot [fetch] somewhat for th' +young mistresses.' So hoo said, `Then I'll speak wi' her.' So I took +her to my Lady, for I see hoo were a gentlewoman; and hoo's i' th' +bower." + +"I wis nought of her," said Barbara. "I never looked to see none here +that I know." + +"Well, thou'd best go to her," decided Jennet Barbara hurried down, and +found an old silver-haired lady sitting with Lady Enville, and addressed +by her with marked deference. + +"Well, Bab!" said the old lady, who was brisk enough for her years; +"thou dost not seem no younger since I saw thee in Cornwall, and the +mirror yonder saith neither am I." + +"Marry La'kin! but if I thought it metely possible, I would say it were +surely Mistress Philippa Basset!" + +"I will not confute thee, Bab, though it be but metely possible," said +the lively old lady, laughing. "I came to see the child Clare; but +hearing she was hence, I then demanded thee. I will go down to the +parsonage anon. I would like well to see Robin, and Thekla likewise." + +"Eh, Mistress Philippa! but there be great and sore changes sithence you +were used to come unto the Lamb to see Mistress Avery!" + +"Go to, Barbara! Hast dwelt sixty years, more or less, in this world, +and but now found out that all things therein be changeable? What be +thy changes to mine? Child, there is not a soul that I loved in those +days when Isoult dwelt in the Minories, that is not now with God in +Heaven. Not a soul! Fifty years gone, brethren and sisters, there were +seven of us. All gone, save me!--a dry old bough, that sticketh yet +upon the tree whence all the fair green shoots have been lopped away. +And I the eldest of all! The ways of God's Providence be strange." + +"I said so much once unto Master Robin," responded Barbara with a smile; +"but he answered, 'twas no matter we apprehended not the same, for the +Lord knew all, and ordered the end from the beginning." + +"He hath ordered me a lonely journey, and a long," said Philippa sadly. +"Well! even a Devon lane hath its turning." + +"And what brought you thus far north, Mistress Philippa, an' I make not +too bold?" + +"Why, I came to see Bridget's childre. I have bidden these four months +gone with Jack Carden. And being so nigh ye all, I thought I would +never turn home without seeing you." + +Lady Bridget Carden was the daughter of Philippa Basset's step-father. +They were not really related; but they had been brought up as sisters +from their girlhood. + +"Nigh, Mistress Philippa!" exclaimed Barbara in surprise. "What, from +Cheshire hither!" + +Philippa laughed merrily. "Marry come up, Bab! thou hast not dwelt +seven years in Calais, as I have, and every yard of lawn for thy +partlets to be fetched from London, and every stone of thy meat to boot. +Why, thou earnest thine own self as far as from Cornwall." + +"Eh, marry La'kin! Never came I that way but once, and if God be +served, [if it be His will] I never look to turn again." + +Philippa turned to Lady Enville, who had sat, or rather reclined, +playing with a hand-screen, while she listened to the preceding +conversation. "And how goeth it with the child, tell me, Orige? She is +not yet wed, trow?" + +"Not yet," replied Lady Enville, with her soft smile. "I shall ne'er be +astonied if she wed with Arthur Tremayne. 'Twere a very fair match, and +he is good enough for Clare." + +"A good stock, and an old; and a good lad, I trust. Thou must have a +care, Orige, not to cast the child away on one that will not deal well +and truly by her." + +"Oh, Arthur would deal well," said Lady Enville carelessly. "He is a +mighty sobersides, and so is Clare. They were cut out for one another." + +"Poor child!" said Philippa. + +"`Poor child'--and wherefore, Mrs Basset, say you so?" + +"Because, Orige, it seemeth me she hath no mother." + +"Nay, Mistress Basset, what signify you?" + +"No mother, Orige--or as good as none. An' Clare had been my child, I +had never handed her o'er, to Arthur Tremayne nor any other, with no +more heed than a napron-full of sticks." + +"Well, in very deed, I do take the better care of the twain for Blanche +to be well matched. Lo' you, Mistress Basset, Blanche is of good +lineage; and she is rare lovesome--well-nigh as fair as I was at her +years--so that I would not have her to cast herself away, in no wise: +but for Clare--which hath small beauty, and is of little sort--it maketh +not much matter whom she may wed." + +"Good lack, Orige Enville, is a maid's heart no matter?--is a maid's +life no matter? Why, woman! thou lackest stirring up with a poker! I +marvel if I were sent hither to do it." + +"Gramercy, Mistress Basset!" cried Lady Enville in horror. "That +stirring up is it which I can in no wise abide." + +"The which shows how much thou lackest it. But I am afeard thou art too +far gone for any good. Well, I will look after the child; and I will +set Thekla on to do it. And if I find Arthur to be a good man and true, +and Clare reasonable well affected unto him,--trust me, I will not +interfere. But if not,--Orige, I will not see Walter's child cast away, +if thou wilt." + +"Nay, good lack, Mrs Basset, what would you do?" + +Lady Enville knew the energy and determination of the old lady's +character, and that if she set her mind upon a course of action, she was +pretty sure to carry it through, and to make other people do as she +wished. + +"I will do _that_" said Philippa decidedly. "I will judge whether the +lot thou hast chalked out for Clare be fit for her." + +"But in case you judge it not so, what then?" + +"Then I will have the child away." + +"I could ne'er allow that, Mistress Basset," said Lady Enville with +unusual decision. + +"I shall ne'er ask thee, Orige," returned Philippa, with a slightly +contemptuous stress upon the pronoun. "I will talk with thine husband; +I trust he will hear reason, though thou mayest not. And I could find +good places enow for Clare; I have many friends in the Court. My Lady +Dowager of Kent [Susan Bertie, the only daughter of Katherine Duchess of +Suffolk] would work, I know, for Isoult Barry's granddaughter; and so +would Beatrice Vivian [a fictitious person], Isoult's old comrade, that +hath a daughter and a niece to boot in the Queen's chamber. And I dare +say my Lady Scrope [Note 1] would do somewhat for me. Any way, I would +assay it." + +"What, to have Clare in the Queen's Majesty's Court?" demanded Lady +Enville, her eyes sparkling with interest and pleasure. "O Mistress +Basset, could you not compass the same for Blanche?" + +"In the Court! By my troth, nay!" said Philippa heartily. "I would +never set maid that I cared a pin for in Queen Bess's Court. Soothly, +there _be_ good women there, but--And as for Blanche,--I will see her, +Orige, ere I say aught. Blanche hath stole all thine heart, methinks-- +so much as there was to steal." + +"But what meant you touching Clare, Mistress Basset?" + +"What meant I? Why, to have her with some worthy and well-conditioned +dame of good degree, that should see her well bestowed. I would trust +my Lady Dowager of Kent, forsooth, or my Lady Scrope--she is a good +woman and a pleasant--or maybe--" + +"And my Lady Scrope is herself in the Court, I take it," said Lady +Enville, pursuing her own train of thought, independent of that of +Philippa. + +"Ay, and were therefore the less fitting," said Philippa coolly. "Take +no thought thereabout, Orige; I will do nought till I have seen the +maidens." + +"But, Mistress Basset! you would ne'er count that mine husband's word, +that is not in very deed her father, should weigh against mine, that am +her true and natural mother?" urged Lady Enville in an injured tone. + +"Thou art her natural mother, Orige, 'tis sooth," was the uncompromising +answer: "but whether true or no, that will I not say. I rather think +nay than yea. And if thine husband be better father unto the child than +thou mother, he is the fitter to say what shall come of the maid. And I +can alway reason with a man easilier than a woman. Women be geese, +mostly!" + +With which reasonably plain indication of her sentiments, the old lady +rose and took her leave. She would have no escort to the parsonage. +She would come back and be introduced to Sir Thomas when she had seen +the girls. And away she trudged, leaving Lady Enville in the +undesirable situation of one who feels that a stronger will than his own +is moulding his fate, and running counter to his inclinations. + +Open doors were kept at the parsonage, as was generally the case in +Elizabethan days. It was therefore no surprise to Mrs Tremayne, who +was occupied in the kitchen, with her one servant Alison acting under +her orders, to hear a smart rap on the door which shut off the kitchen +from the hall. + +"Come within!" she called in answer, expecting some parishioner in want +of advice or alms. + +But in marched an upright, brisk old lady, with silver hair, and a stout +staff in her hand. + +"I am come to see Thekla Rose," said she. + +Mrs Tremayne was surprised now. It was thirty years since that name +had belonged to her. + +"And Thekla Rose has forgot me," added the visitor. + +"There is a difference betwixt forgetting and not knowing," replied Mrs +Tremayne with a smile. + +"There is so," returned the old lady. "Therefore to make me known, +which I see I am not,--my name is Philippa Basset." + +The exclamation of delighted recognition which broke from the Rector's +wife must have shown Philippa that she was by no means forgotten. Mrs +Tremayne took her visitor into the parlour, just then unoccupied,-- +seated her in a comfortable cushioned chair, and, leaving Alison to bake +or burn the cakes and pie in the oven as she found it convenient, had +thenceforward no eyes and ears but for Philippa Basset. Certainly the +latter had no cause to doubt herself welcome. + +"I spake truth, Thekla, child, when I said I was come to see thee. Yet +it was but the half of truth, for I am come likewise to see Robin: and I +would fain acquaint me with yonder childre. Be they now within doors?" + +"They be not all forth, or I mistake," said Mrs Tremayne; and she went +to the door and called them--all four in turn. Blanche answered from +the head of the stairs, but avowed herself ignorant of the whereabouts +of any one else; and Mrs Tremayne begged her to look for and bring such +as she could find to the parlour, to see an old friend of Clare's +family. + +In a few minutes Blanche and Lysken presented themselves. Arthur and +Clare were not to be found. Philippa's keen, quick eyes surveyed the +two girls as they entered, and mentally took stock of both. + +"A vain, giddy goose!" was her rapid estimate of Blanche; wherein, if +she did Blanche a little injustice, there was some element of truth. +"Calm and deep, like a river," she said to herself of Lysken: and there +she judged rightly enough. + +Before any conversation beyond the mere introductions could occur, in +trotted Mrs Rose. + +"Mistress Philippa, you be the fairest ointment for the eyen that I have +seen these many days!" said the lively little Flemish lady. "_Ma foi_! +I do feel myself run back, the half of my life, but to look on you. I +am a young woman once again." + +"Old friend, we be both of us aged women," said Philippa. + +"And it is true!" said Mrs Rose. "That will say, the joints be stiff, +and the legs be weakened, and the fatigue is more and quicker: but I +find not that thing within me, that men call my soul, to grow stiff nor +weak. I laugh, I weep, I am astonied,--just all same as fifty years +since. See you?" + +"Ah! you have kept much of the childly heart," answered Philippa +smiling. "But for me, the main thing with me that is not stiff nor weak +in me is anger and grief. Men be such flat fools--and women worser, if +worse can be." + +Blanche opened her eyes in amazement Lysken looked amused. + +"Ah, good Mistress Philippa, I am one of the fools," said Mrs Rose with +great simplicity. "I alway have so been." + +"Nay, _flog_ me with a discipline if you are!" returned Philippa +heartily. "I meant not you, old friend. You are not by one-tenth part +so much as--" Her eye fell on Blanche. "Come, I name none.--And thou +art Frank Avery's daughter?" she added, turning suddenly to Lysken. +"Come hither, Frances, and leave me look on thee." + +"My name is not Frances, good Mistress," replied Lysken, coming forward +with a smile. + +"Isoult, then? It should be one or the other." + +"Nay--it is Elizabeth," said Lysken, with a shake of her head. + +"More shame for thee," retorted Philippa jokingly. "What business had +any to call thee Elizabeth?" + +"My father's mother was Lysken Klaas." + +"Good.--Well, Thekla, I have looked this face o'er, and I can read no +Avery therein." + +"'Tis all deep down in the heart," said Mrs Tremayne. + +"The best place for it," replied Philippa. "Thou wilt do, child, as +methinks. I would say it were easier to break thy heart than to beguile +thy conscience. A right good thing--for the conscience. Is this +Clare?" she asked, breaking off suddenly as Clare came in, with a tone +which showed that she felt most interest in her of the three. She took +both Clare's hands and studied her face intently. + +"Walter's eyes," she said. "Isoult Barry's eyes! The maid could have +none better. And John Avery's mouth. Truth and love in the eyes; +honour and good learning on the lips. Thou wilt do, child, and that +rarely well." + +"Mistress Philippa Basset is a right old friend of thy dear grandame, +Clare," said Mrs Tremayne in explanation. "Thou canst not remember +her, but this worthy gentlewoman doth well so, and can tell thee much of +her when they were young maids together, and thy grandmother was +gentlewoman unto Mistress Philippa her mother, my sometime Lady +Viscountess Lisle." + +Clare looked interested, but she did not say much. + +Mr Tremayne and Arthur came in together, only just in time for +four-hours. + +"God save thee, Robin dear!" was Philippa's greeting. "Art rested from +Little Ease? I saw thee but slightly sithence, mind thou, and never had +no good talk with thee." + +Mr Tremayne laughed more merrily than was usual with him. + +"Good Mistress Philippa, if thirty years were not enough to rest a man, +in very deed he were sore aweary." + +"Now, Arthur," said Philippa, turning to him bluntly, "come and let me +look thee o'er." + +Arthur obeyed, with grave lips, but amused eyes. + +"Robin's eyes--Thekla's mouth--Father Rose's brow--Custance Tremayne's +chin," she said, enumerating them rapidly. "If the inward answer the +outward, lad, thou shouldst be a rare good one." + +"Then I fear it doth not so," said Arthur soberly, "Humbleness will do +thee no hurt, lad.--Now, Thekla, let us have our four-hours. I could +eat a baken brick wall. Ay me! dost mind thee of the junkets, in old +days, at the Lamb?" + +"Thekla, I told thee afore, and I do it yet again,--women be flat fools. +The biggest I know is Orige Enville. And in good sooth, that is much +to say! She is past old Doll, at Crowe, that threw her kerchief over +the candle to put it out. Blanche may be a step the better; methinks +she is. But for all that, she is Orige Enville's daughter. I would as +soon fetch my bodkin and pierce that child to the heart, as I would send +her to the Court, where her blind bat of a mother would fain have her. +'Twere the kindlier deed of the twain. Lack-a-daisy! she would make +shipwreck of life and soul in a month. Well, for Clare, then--I give +thee to wit, Thekla, thou art that child's mother. Orige is not. She +never was worth her salt. And she never will be. So the sooner thou +win the maid hither, the better for her." + +"She doth abide hither, Mistress Philippa, even now." + +"Tush, child! I mean the sooner she weds with Arthur." + +"Weds with Arthur!" + +It was manifest that the idea had never entered Mrs Tremayne's head +until Philippa put it there. + +"Prithee, wherefore no?" demanded the old lady coolly. "Orige means it. +Mercy on us, Thekla Rose! art thou gone wood?" + +"Mrs Philippa! Who e'er told you my Lady Enville meant any such +thing?" + +"The goose told me herself," said Philippa bluntly, with a short laugh. +"'Twas not in a civil fashion, Thekla. She said Arthur was good enough +for Clare; it recked not whom Clare wedded withal. Marry come up! if I +had not let mine head govern mine hands, I had fetched her a good crack +on the crown with my staff. It could ne'er have hurt her brain--she has +none. What were such women born for, do all the saints wit?--without it +were to learn other folk patience." + +Thekla Tremayne was a woman, and a mother. She would have been more +than human if she had not felt hurt for this insult to her boy. Was +Clare, or anything else in the world, too good for her one darling? + +"Come,--swallow it, Thekla, and have done," said Philippa. "And by way +of a morsel of sugar at after the wormwood, I will tell thee I do not +think Clare hates him. I studied her face." + +"Mistress Philippa, you read faces so rarely, I would you could read +Lucrece Enville. Margaret, which is eldest of the three, is plain +reading; I conceive her conditions [understand her disposition] well. +But Lucrece hath posed me ever since I knew her." + +"I will lay thee a broad shilling, child, I read her off like thou +shouldst a hornbook when I see her. Ay, I have some skill touching +faces: I have been seventy years at the work." + +That evening, just before supper, the indefatigable old lady marched +into the hall at Enville Court. Lady Enville introduced her to Sir +Thomas and Mistress Rachel, and presented her step-daughters and Jack. +Philippa made her private comments on each. + +"A worthy, honest man--not too sharp-sighted," she said of Sir Thomas to +herself. "And a good, sound-hearted woman"--of Mistress Rachel. "There +is a pickie, or I mistake," greeted Jack. "This is Margaret, is it? +Clear as crystal: not deep, but clear. But this face"--as Lucrece came +before her--"is deep enough. Not deep like a river, but like a snake. +I could do well enough with your plain, honest sister; but I love you +not, Mistress Lucrece. Enville. Your graceful ways do not captivate +me. Ah! it takes a woman to know a woman. And the men, poor silly +things! fancy they know us better than we do each other." + +If Philippa had spoken that last sentiment audibly, she would have won +the fee-simple of Rachel Enville's heart. + +"Sir Thomas," said Philippa, when they rose from supper, "when it may +stand with your conveniency, I would fain have an half-hour's talk with +you." + +Sir Thomas was ready enough to confer with the old lady, whom he liked, +and he led her courteously to his wife's boudoir. Lady Enville sat down +in her cushioned chair, and made a screen of her fan. + +"Sir Thomas," began Philippa bluntly, "I would fain wit what you and +Orige mean to do with Clare? Forgive my asking; I love the child for +her grandame's sake." + +"Good Mistress, you be full welcome to ask the same. But for me, I know +not how to answer, for I never took any thought thereupon. Hadst thou +thought thereon, Orige?" + +"I counted her most like to wed with Arthur Tremayne," said Lady Enville +carelessly. + +"I ne'er thought of him," remarked Sir Thomas. + +"If it be so, good," said Philippa. "I have looked the lad o'er, and I +am satisfied with him. And now, I pray you, take one more word from an +old woman, of your gentleness. What do you with Blanche?" + +In answer to this question--for Philippa was well known to Sir Thomas by +repute, and he was prepared to trust her thoroughly--the whole story of +Don Juan came out. Philippa sat for a minute, looking thoughtfully into +the fire. + +"Have a care of yonder maid," she said. + +"But what fashion of care, Mistress Basset? An' you grant it me, I +would value your thought thereupon." + +Philippa turned to Sir Thomas. + +"Have you not," she said, "made somewhat too much of this matter? Not +that it was other than grave, in good sooth; yet methinks it had been +better had you not let Blanche see that you counted it of so much +import. I fear she shall now go about to count herself of mighty +importance. Childre do, when you make much of their deeds; and Blanche +is but a child yet, and will so be for another year or twain. Now this +young man is safe hence, I would say, Fetch her home. And let none ever +name the matter afore her again; let bygones be bygones. Only give her +to see that you account of her as a silly child for the past, but yet +that you have hope she shall be wiser in the future." + +"Well, herein I see not with you," said Lady Enville. "I had thought it +rare good fortune for Blanche to wed with Don John." + +Sir Thomas moved uneasily, but did not answer. Philippa turned and +looked at the speaker. + +"That was like," she said quietly. But neither of her hearers knew how +much meaning lay beneath the words. + +"And what think you touching Lucrece?" asked Mrs Tremayne the next day, +when Philippa was again at the parsonage. + +"I ne'er had a fancy for snakes, Thekla." + +"Then you count her deceitful? That is it which I have feared." + +"Have a care," said Philippa. "But what is to fear? A care of what?" + +"Nay, what feareth any from a snake? That he should sting, I take it. +He may do it while you be looking. But he is far more like to do it +when you be not." + +The evening before the two sisters were to return to Enville Court, Mrs +Tremayne and Clare were sitting alone in the parlour. Clare had +manoeuvred to this end, for she wanted to ask her friend a question; and +she knew there was a particular period of the evening when Mr Tremayne +and Arthur were generally out, and Lysken was occupied elsewhere. Mrs +Rose and Blanche remained to be disposed of; but the former relieved +Clare's mind by trotting away with a little basket of creature comforts +to see a sick woman in the village; and it was easy to ask Blanche to +leave her private packing until that period. But now that Clare had got +Mrs Tremayne to herself, she was rather shy in beginning her inquiries. +She framed her first question in a dozen different ways, rejected all +for various reasons, and finally--feeling that her opportunity was +sliding away--came out with that one which she had most frequently cast +aside. + +"Mistress Tremayne, account you it alway sinful to harbour discontent?" + +"I could much better answer thee, dear maid, if I knew the fountain +whence thy question springeth." + +This was just the point which Clare was most shy of revealing. But she +really wanted Mrs Tremayne's opinion; and with an effort she conquered +her shyness. + +"Well,--suppose it had pleased God to cast my lot some whither, that the +daily work I had to do was mighty dislikeful to me; and some other +maiden that I knew, had that to do withal which I would have loved +dearly:--were it ill for me to wish that my business had been like +hers?" + +"Whom enviest thou, my child?" asked Mrs Tremayne very gently. + +Clare blushed, and laughed. + +"Well, I had not meant to say the same; but in very deed I do envy +Lysken." + +"And wherefore, dear heart?" + +"Because her work is so much higher and better than mine." + +Mrs Tremayne did not answer for a moment. Then she said,--"Tell me, +Clare,--suppose thy father's serving-men and maids should begin to +dispute amongst themselves,--if Sim were to say, `I will no longer serve +in the hall, because 'tis nobler work to ride my master's horses:' or +Kate were to say, `I will no longer sweep the chambers, sith 'tis higher +matter to dress my master's meat:' and Nell,--`I will no longer dress +the meat, sith it were a greater thing to wait upon my mistress in her +chamber,'--tell me, should the work of the house be done better, or +worser?" + +"Worser, no doubt." + +"Well, dear heart, and if so, why should God's servants grudge to do the +differing works of their Master? If thou art of them, thy Master, hath +set thee thy work. He saw what thou wert fit to do, and what was fit to +be done of thee; and the like of Lysken. He hath set thee where thou +art; and such work as thou hast to do there is His work for thee. Alway +remembering,--if thou art His servant." + +Clare did not quite like that recurring conjunction. It sounded as if +Mrs Tremayne doubted the fact. + +"You think me not so?" she asked in a low voice. + +"I hope thou art, dear Clare. But thou shouldst know," was the +searching answer. + +There was silence after that, till Clare said, with a sigh, "Then you +reckon I ought not to wish for different work?" + +"I think not, my maid, that wishing and discontent be alway one and the +same. I may carry a burden right willingly and cheerfully, and yet feel +it press hard, and be glad to lay it down. Surely there is no ill that +thou shouldest say to thy Father, `If it be Thy will, Father, I would +fain have this or that.' Only be content with His ordering, if He +should answer, `Child, thou hast asked an evil thing.'" + +There was another pause, during which Clare was thinking. + +"Am I the first to whom thou hast opened thine heart hereon, dear +Clare?" + +"Well, I did let fall a word or twain at home," said Clare smiling; "but +I found no like feeling in response thereto." + +"Not even from Margaret?" + +"Meg thought there was work enough at home," replied Clare laughing, +"and bade me go look in the mending-chest and see how much lacked +doing." + +"Nor Mistress Rachel?" + +"Nay, Aunt Rachel said I might well be thankful that I was safe guarded +at home, and had not need to go about this wicked world." + +"Well, there is reason in that. It is a wicked world." + +"Yet, surely, we need try to make it better, Mistress Tremayne: and--any +woman could stitch and cut as well as I." + +Clare spoke earnestly. Mrs Tremayne considered a little before she +answered. + +"Well, dear heart, it may be the Lord doth design thee to be a worker in +His vineyard. I cannot say it is not thus. But if so, Clare, it +seemeth me that in this very cutting and stitching, which thou so much +mislikest, He is setting thee to school to be made ready. Ere we be fit +for such work as thou wouldst have, we need learn much: and one lesson +we have to learn is patience. It may be that even now, if the Lord mean +to use thee thus, He is giving thee thy lesson of patience. `Let +patience have her perfect work.' 'Tis an ill messenger that is so eager +to be about his errand, that he will needs run ere he be sent. The +great Teacher will set thee the right lessons; see thou that they be +well learned: and leave it to Him to call thee to work when He seeth +thee ripe for it." + +"I thank you," said Clare meekly; "maybe I am too impatient." + +"'Tis a rare grace, dear heart,--true patience: but mind thou, that is +not idleness nor backwardness. Some make that blunder, and think they +be patiently waiting for work when work waiteth for them, and they be +too lazy to put hand thereto. We need have a care on both sides." + +But though Mrs Tremayne gave this caution, in her own mind she thought +it much more likely that Blanche would need it than Clare. + +"And why should I press back her eagerness, if the Lord hath need of +her? Truly"--and Thekla Tremayne sighed as she said this to +herself--"`the labourers are few.'" + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. Philadelphia Carey, a kinswoman of Queen Elizabeth through her +mother, Anne Boleyn. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +CATCHING MOTHS. + + "For my soul's sake, Maid Marjorie, + And yet for my soul's sake, - + I know no wrong I've done to thee, + Nor why thy heart should break." + +Rather late on the same evening, Sir Thomas walked into the parsonage, +and rapped with his silver-hilted staff at the parlour door. Clare had +gone up-stairs, and Mrs Tremayne was at that moment alone. She offered +to send for her young guests, but he declined; he wished first to speak +with her apart. He told her that Don Juan had gone to London; and that +before leaving him, that estimable young gentleman had frankly +communicated the interesting fact that he was bound by an engagement to +a lady of his own country. + +"Now what think you? Were it better, or worser, that Blanche should +know the same?" + +"Better far--by all manner of means," said the Rector's wife decidedly. + +"I thought even so," replied Sir Thomas. "I had come sooner, but my +wife was contrary thereto." + +Mrs Tremayne could not feel astonished to hear of any amount of +unwisdom on the part of Lady Enville, but she merely repeated that she +thought it much better that Blanche should know. + +"It should help to open her eyes. Though in sooth I do think they be +scantly so close shut as at the first." + +"Then you will tell the child, good Mistress?" + +"If you so desire, assuredly: but wherefore not give her to wit +yourself?" + +Sir Thomas evidently shrank from the idea. + +"For Blanche's sake, I do think it should be better, Sir Thomas. You +speak as he that hath heard this right from Don Juan himself; for me, I +have but heard it from you." + +"Well, if needs must--for Blanche's sake, then," said her father, +sighing. "Pray you, send the child hither." + +In another minute Blanche came in, with a warm welcome for her father in +eyes and voice. + +"So thou comest home to-morrow, my skylark!" he said. "Art thou glad, +or sorry, Blanche?" + +"Oh, glad, Father!" + +"And all we be glad likewise.--Blanche, Don John is gone to London." + +"Yes, I guessed so much," she answered, in a rather constrained tone. + +"And ere he went, my darling, he said somewhat unto me which I reckon it +best thou shouldst hear likewise." + +Blanche looked up, surprised and expectant,--perhaps with a shade of +fear. Sir Thomas passed his arm round her, and drew her close to him. +He anticipated a burst of tears, and was ready to console her. + +"He told me, dear heart, that he is, and for divers years hath so been, +troth-plight unto a maiden of his own land, with whom he shall wed when +he is gone home." + +There was no light in the room but from the fire, and Blanche's head was +bent low, so that her father could not see her face. But no tears +answered him. No answer came at all. Sir Thomas was astonished. + +"Doth it grieve thee, my Blanche?" he asked tenderly, when he had waited +a moment. + +He waited still another. Then the reply came. + +"I suppose it was better I should know it," she said in a cold, hard +voice. + +"So thou seest, dear child, he meant not his fair words." + +"No," she said, in the same tone. "He meant it not." + +Sir Thomas let her go. He thought she bore it uncommonly well. She did +not care much about it, thank Heaven! He was one of those numerous +surface observers who think that a woman cannot be startled if she does +not scream, nor be unhappy if she does not weep. + +Blanche went quietly enough out of the room, saying that she would send +Clare. Her father did not see that in the middle of the stairs she +paused, with a tight grasp on the banister, till the deadly faintness +should pass off which seemed to make the staircase go spinning round +her. Clare noticed nothing peculiar when Blanche came into their +bedroom, and told her that Sir Thomas was below. But as soon as her +sister was gone, Blanche knelt down by the bed, and buried her face in +the counterpane. + +This, then, was the end. The shrine was not only deserted--it was +destroyed: the idol was not only dethroned--it was broken, and shown to +be nothing but stone. Don Juan was not true. Nay, worse--he never had +been true. His vow of eternal fidelity was empty breath; his reiterated +protestations of single and unalterable love were worth just nothing. +He had only been amusing himself. He had known all the while, that in +exchange for the solid gold of her young heart, he was offering her the +veriest pinchbeck. + +Blanche had been half awake before, and she was wide awake now. Yet the +awakening, for all that, was very bitter. Naturally enough, her first +thought was that all men were of this stamp, and that there was no truth +in any of them. Aunt Rachel was right:--they were a miserable, false, +deceiving race, created for the delusion and suffering of woman: she +would never believe another of them as long as she lived. There might +be here and there an exception to the rule, such as her father or Mr +Tremayne; she could not believe such evil of them: but that was the +rule. And Blanche, being not quite seventeen, declared to herself that +after this vast and varied experience of the world, she would never--not +if she lived to be a hundred--_never_ trust man again. + +She slipped quietly down-stairs, and caught Sir Thomas just as he was +leaving the house. + +"Father!" she whispered, sliding into his hand the little packet of Don +Juan's hair, "maybe I ought to have given you this aforetime. Allgates +now take it; it is nought to me any more--sith he is hot." + +Sir Thomas transferred the little parcel to his pocket. + +"'Give thee good night, my jewel! We shall all be fain to have thee +home again to-morrow." + +Blanche returned the greeting, but glided away again, and was seen very +little that night. But Mrs Tremayne guessed the state of the girl's +mind more truly than Sir Thomas had done. + +The next day they went home. + +"Bless thee, my precious Blanche!" was Lady Enville's greeting. "And +thee too, Clare. Good lack, how faded is yon camlet! 'Tis well ye were +but at the parsonage, for it should have shamed thee any other whither." + +"Well, child!" said Aunt Rachel. "I trust thou hast come home to work +like a decent lass, and not sit moaning with thine hands afore thee like +a cushat dove. What man ever trod middle earth that was worth a moan?" + +"I will essay to give you content, Aunt Rachel," said Blanche quietly. + +"Clare, my good lass, I have lacked thee sorely. I scarce wis what to +do without thee." + +Clare looked pleased. "Well, Aunt Rachel, I am come to work, and that +with a will," she answered cheerily. + +"I am thankful to hear it. Now, if Heaven's will it be, all things +shall go on as usual once again." + +But nothing was to go on as usual any more. + +Not for Margaret, for Harry Travis had returned from the Netherlands, +and her marriage was to be that day six weeks. Not for Lucrece, who was +elated with what she considered her triumph over Blanche, and was on the +look-out for fresh laurels. Not for Blanche, as the reader knows: nor +for Clare, as he soon will know: nor even for Rachel herself-- + + "Though only the sorrow of others + Threw its shadow over her." + +There was but one person to whom matters went on at all as usual, and +that was Lady Enville. As usual, to her, meant a handsome dress, a +cushioned chair, a good dinner, and an occasional junketing: and since +recent events had not interfered with any of these, Lady Enville went on +much as usual. Yet even she never ceased to regret Blanche's lost +coronet, which no revelation of Don Juan's duplicity would ever persuade +her had not been lying at her daughter's feet, ready to be taken up and +worn. She was one of those persons who will not believe anything which +they do not wish to be true; and on them vouchers and verifications are +always thrown away. + +The first point different from usual was that Arthur Tremayne began to +drop in continually at Enville Court. Lady Enville was gratified, for +she thought her neat little arrangement was taking effect; and it would +be a comfort, she said to herself, to have Clare off her hands. She +said this one day to Rachel: but though, she knew that worthy spinster's +opinion of matrimony, yet she was hardly prepared for the diatribe which +she received in answer. Rachel had lately, and with much annoyance, +began to perceive--what she had never seen so clearly before--that Lady +Enville cared very little for her elder daughter. And of all the four +girls, Clare was Rachel's darling. She was prepared to do battle in her +cause to a greater extent than she herself knew. So, having received +this hint, Rachel set herself to watch Arthur, and see that he behaved +properly. + +It was not easy to guess Arthur's motive in coming. He usually sat +between Clare and Blanche when he was present at supper; and just now +that was pretty often. But either of the two might be the attraction. +In other respects, his courtesies were evenly divided among the four, +and were not pointed to any. + +Meanwhile, Clare was honestly trying to do the work set her well, and to +be contented with it. She often carried her troubles to Mrs Tremayne, +and sought advice or cheering at her hands: nor was she ever sent away +unsatisfied. Rachel was delighted with Clare's steady and cheerful +help, and complacently thought that the parsonage had done her good. + +So the summer drew on, and Margaret was married to Harry Travis, and +went to live in another part of the county. + +On a late afternoon in autumn, Clare stood in the arbour, tying up +bouquets. An old friend of Sir Thomas was expected on a visit, and was +likely to arrive that evening. This was Sir Piers Feversham, +[fictitious person] a Norfolk knight, of Lancashire extraction on his +mother's side, who had not seen Sir Thomas Enville since both had been +young squires together in the household of the Earl of Derby. His +nephew and heir presumptive, John Feversham, [fictitious person] was +coming with him. There was little presumption, to all appearance, about +the heirship, for Sir Piers bore the character of a confirmed old +bachelor, and was now upwards of sixty. + +Clare's bouquets were nearly all tied up, and ready to be carried to the +hall, which was to be decorated in honour of the guests. She was tying +the last but one, when she heard slow footsteps and low voices passing +on the outside of the arbour. Not too low, however, for two sentences +to be audible inside,--words which blanched Clare's cheek, and made her +trembling fingers loose their hold, till the gathered flowers slid away +one by one, and lay a fragrant mass on the ground at her feet. + +The remarks which she overheard were limited to a fervent appeal and a +low reply. The appeal--which was a declaration of love--was uttered in +the familiar accents of Arthur Tremayne; and the answer--a vague +disclaimer of merit which sounded like a shy affirmative--came in the +low, soft voice of Lucrece Enville. + +Clare was totally ignorant of the fate which her mother had designed for +her; nor had she ever realised until that evening that she cared more +for Arthur than she did for Jack. They were both like brothers to her: +but now she suddenly felt that if it had been Jack whose voice she had +heard uttering similar words, it would have mattered little or nothing +to her. + +The hardest thought of all was that of resigning him to Lucrece. +Fourteen years had elapsed since that day of their childhood on which +Clare had witnessed the first instance of Lucrece's duplicity; but she +had never been able to forget it, and it had infused a sort of vague +discomfort and constraint into all their intercourse. + +"Oh, if it had been Lysken!" said Clare to her own heart. "I could have +borne it better." + +And it had to be borne, and in utter silence. _This_ trouble could not +be carried to Mrs Tremayne; and the idea of betraying Lucrece, as that +young lady had herself betrayed Blanche, would have seemed black +treachery to Clare. No, things must take their course: and let them +take it, so long as that would make Arthur happy, and would be for his +good. In her inmost heart Clare was sorely doubtful about both items. +Well, she could ask God to grant them. + +It was half an hour later than she had expected when Clare carried her +nosegays into the hall. She went on mechanically putting them in order, +and finding, when she had finished, that there was one more than was +needed, she carried it to her mother's boudoir. + +"How late thou art, Clare!" said Lady Enville, looking up from Sir +Philip Sidney's Arcadia, which she was lazily reading. "Sir Piers may +come now at any minute. Hast made an end in the hall?" + +"Ay, Madam." + +"Hast one posy left o'er? Set it here, by my chair, child. Dost know +where is Blanche?" + +"No, Madam." + +"And Lucrece?" + +"No, Madam." + +Clare's conscience smote her as soon as she had given this answer. +Certainly she did not know where Lucrece was; but she could very well +guess. + +"I would thou wert not fully thus bashful, Clare; hast nought but `Ay' +and `No'?--I would fain have thee seek Lucrece: I desire speech of her." + +Clare did not reply at all this time. She had disposed of her flowers, +and she left the room. + +Seek Lucrece! Clare had never had a harder task. If the same burden +had been laid on them, Lucrece would have left the commission +unfulfilled, and Blanche would have sent somebody else. But such +alternatives did not even suggest themselves to Clare's conscientious +mind. She went through the hall towards the garden door in search of +Lucrece. + +"Child, what aileth thee?" asked a voice suddenly, as Clare was opening +the garden door. + +"I?" said Clare absently. "Lucrece--my mother would have me seek her." + +"Sit thee down, and I will send her to thy mother," said Rachel. + +Away she went; and Clare sat down by the fire, feeling just then as if +she could do little else. Lucrece glided through the hall with her +smooth, silent step, but did not appear to see Clare; and Rachel +followed in a minute. + +"I have sent Lucrece to thy mother," she said. "Now, child, what aileth +thee?" + +"Oh--nothing, Aunt Rachel." + +"When I was a small maid, Clare, my mother told me that 'twas not well +to lie." + +"I did not--Aunt Rachel, I cry you mercy--I meant not--" + +"Thou meantest not to tell me what ailed thee. I know that. But I mean +to hear it, Clare." + +"'Tis nought, in very deed, Aunt--of any moment." + +"Nought of any moment to thee?" + +"Nay, to--Oh, pray you, ask me not, Aunt Rachel! It makes no matter." + +"Ha! When a maid saith that,--a maid of thy years, Clare,--I know +metely well what she signifieth. Thou art a good child. Get thee +up-stairs and pin on thy carnation knots." + +Clare went up the wide hall staircase with a slow, tired step, and +without making any answer beyond a faint attempt at a smile. + +"Ha!" said Rachel again, to herself. "Providence doth provide all +things. Methinks, though, at times, 'tis by the means of men and women, +the which He maketh into little providences. I could find it in mine +heart to fall to yonder game but now. Only I will bide quiet, methinks, +till to-morrow. Well-a-day! if yon grandmother Eve of ours had ne'er +ate yon apple! Yet Master Tremayne will have it that I did eat it mine +own self. Had I so done, Adam might have whistled for a quarter. The +blind, stumbling moles men are! Set a pearl and a pebble afore them, +and my new shoes to an old shoeing-horn, but they shall pick up the +pebble, and courtesy unto you for your grace. And set your mind on a +lad that you do count to have more sense than the rest, and beshrew me +if he show you not in fair colours ere the week be out that he is as +great a dunce as any. I reckon Jack shall be the next. Well, well!-- +let the world wag. 'Twill all be o'er an hundred years hence. They +shall be doing it o'er again by then. Howbeit, 'tis ill work to weep +o'er spilt milk." + +Sir Piers Feversham and his nephew arrived late that evening. The +former was a little older than Sir Thomas Enville, and had mixed more in +general society;--a talkative, good-natured man, full of anecdote; and +Blanche at least found him very entertaining. + +John Feversham, the nephew, was almost the antipodes of his uncle. He +was not handsome, but there was an open, honest look in his grey eyes +which bore the impress of sincerity. All his movements were slow and +deliberate, his manners very quiet and calm, his speech grave and +sedate. Nothing in the shape of repartee could be expected from him; +and with him Blanche was fairly disgusted. + +"As sober as a judge, and as heavy as a leaden seal!" said that young +lady,--who had been his next neighbour at the supper-table,--when she +was giving in her report to Clare while they were undressing. "He hath +but an owl's eye for beauty, of whatever fashion. Thou mindest how fair +was the sunset this even? Lo' thou, he could see nought but a deal of +water in the sea, and divers coloured clouds in the sky. Stupid old +companion!" + +"And prithee, Mistress Blanche, who ever did see aught in the sea saving +a cruel great parcel of water?" + +"Good lack, Bab!--thou art as ill as he. Clare, what seest thou in the +sea?" + +Clare tried to bring her thoughts down to the subject. + +"I scantly know, Blanche. 'Tis rarely beautiful, in some ways. Yet it +soundeth to me alway very sorrowful." + +"Ay so, Mistress Clare!" returned Barbara. "It may belike to thee, poor +sweet heart, whose father was killed thereon,--and to me, that had a +brother which died far away on the Spanish main." + +"I suppose," answered Clare sighing, "matters sound unto us according as +we are disposed." + +"Marry, and if so, some folks' voices should sound mighty discordant," +retorted Barbara. + +Blanche was soon asleep; but there was little sleep for Clare that +night. Nor was there much for Rachel. Since Margaret's marriage, +Lucrece had shared her aunt's chamber; for it would have been thought +preposterous in the Elizabethan era to give a young girl a bedroom to +herself. Rachel watched her niece narrowly; but Lucrece neither said +nor did anything from which the least information could be gleaned. She +was neither elated nor depressed, but just as usual,--demure, slippery, +and unaccountable. + +Rachel kept her eye also, like an amateur detective, upon Arthur. He +came frequently, and generally managed to get a walk with Lucrece in the +garden. On two occasions the detective, seated at her own window, which +overlooked the garden, saw that Arthur was entreating or urging +something, to which Lucrece would not consent. + +The month of Sir Piers Feversham's stay was drawing to a close, and +still Rachel had not spoken to her brother about Lucrece. She felt +considerably puzzled as to what it would be either right or wise to do. +Lucrece was no foolish, romantic, inexperienced child like Blanche, but +a woman of considerable worldly wisdom and strong self-reliance. It was +no treachery to interfere with her, in her aunt's eyes, since Lucrece +herself had been the traitor; and for Clare's sake Rachel longed to +rescue Arthur, whom she considered infatuated and misled. + +Before Rachel had been able to make up her mind on this point, one +Saturday afternoon Sir Thomas sought her, and asked her to come to the +library. + +"Rachel," he said, "I would fain have thy counsel. Sir Piers +Feversham--much to mine amazing--hath made me offer of service +[courtship] for Lucrece. What thinkest thereon?" + +"Brother, leave her go!" + +"He is by three years elder than I, Rachel." + +"Ne'er mind thou." + +"Methinks he should make the maid a good husband?" remarked Sir Thomas +interrogatively. + +"Better than she shall make him a wife," said Rachel grimly. + +"Rachel!" + +"Brother, I have ne'er said this to thee aforetime; but my true +conviction is that Lucrece is a mischief-maker, and until she be hence, +there is like to be little peace for any. I saw not all things at the +first; but I can tell thee now that she hath won Arthur Tremayne into +her toils, and methinks she tried hard to compass Don Juan. If she will +wed with Sir Piers (and he dare venture on her!) let it be so: he is old +enough to have a care of himself; and she is less like to wreck his life +than she should be with a younger man. In good sooth, there is all the +less of it to wreck." + +"Yet, Rachel, if the maid be entangled with Arthur--" + +"Make thy mind easy, Tom. 'Tis Arthur is entangled, not she. Trust her +for that! She hath good enough scissors for the cutting of a like +knot." + +"Arthur ne'er spake word to me," said Sir Thomas, with a perplexed, +meditative air. + +"That is it which I would know, Tom. Ne'er spake word, quotha? So much +the better. Well! I reckon thou shalt be like to tell Orige; but leave +her not persuade thee to the contrary course. Yet I think she is scarce +like. A knighthood and Feversham Hall shall go down very sweetly with +her." + +"But there is yet another matter, Rachel. Sir Piers maketh offer to set +Jack in good place about the Court, for the which he saith he hath +power. What sayest to that, trow?" + +"I say that Jack is safe to go to wrack some whither, and may be 'twere +as well hence as hither." + +"It shall be mighty chargeable, I fear," said Sir Thomas thoughtfully. + +"Jack shall be that any whither." + +"Wouldst have me, then, say Ay to both offers?" + +"Nay, think well touching Jack first. I meant not that. Good sooth! I +sorely misdoubt--" + +"Well, I will see what saith Orige unto both, and Jack and Lucrece to +either." + +"If I be a prophet," answered Rachel, "one and all shall say, Ay." + +If that were the criterion, Rachel proved a prophet One and all did say +ay. Lady Enville was enchanted with both schemes. Jack averred that +life at home was a very humdrum kind of thing, and life might be worth +having in London, and at Court. And Lucrece, in her demure style, +softly declared that she was thankful for Sir Piers' goodness, and would +gladly accept his offer, though she felt that her merits were not equal +to the kind estimate which he had formed of her. + +"But, Lucrece," said her father gravely, "one told me that Arthur +Tremayne had made suit unto thee." + +If he expected the mask to drop for an instant from the soft, regular +features of Lucrece, he was sadly disappointed. Not a look, nor a +gesture, showed that she felt either surprised or disconcerted. + +"'Tis true, Father. The poor lad did say some like words unto me. But +I gave him no encouragement to seek you." + +"Thou wouldst have me to conceive, then, that thou art wholly free from +any plight whatsoe'er unto Arthur?" + +"Wholly free, Father. I ne'er gave him to wit otherwise." + +Sir Thomas believed her; Rachel did not. The next thing, in the +squire's honest eyes, was to let Arthur know that Lucrece was about to +marry Sir Piers,--not directly, since Arthur himself had made no open +declaration; but he proposed to go down to the parsonage, and mention +the fact, as if incidentally, in Arthur's presence. He found Lucrece +rather averse to this scheme. + +"It should but trouble the poor lad," she said. "Why not leave him +discover the same as matters shall unfold them?" + +"Tom!" said Rachel to her brother apart, "go thou down, and tell Arthur +the news. I am afeared Lucrece hath some cause, not over good, for +wishing silence kept." + +"Good lack!" cried the worried Squire. "Wellnigh would I that every one +of my childre had been a lad! These maidens be such changeable and +chargeable gear, I verily wis not what to do withal." + +"Bide a while, Tom, till Jack hath been in the Court a year or twain; +maybe then I shall hear thee to wish that all had been maids." + +Down to the parsonage trudged the puzzled and unhappy man, and found +that Arthur was at home. He chatted for a short time with the family in +general, and then told the ladies, as a piece of news which he expected +to interest them, that his daughter Lucrece was about to be married. +Had he not intentionally kept his eyes from Arthur while he spoke, he +would have seen that the young man went white to the lips. + +"Eh, _ma foi_!" said Mrs Rose. + +"With whom shall she wed?" asked Mrs Tremayne. + +"Sir Thomas, is that true?" was the last remark--in hoarse accents, from +Arthur. + +"It is true, my lad. Have I heard truly, that you would not have it +so?" + +Mrs Tremayne looked at her son in a mixture of astonishment and dismay. +It had never occurred to her guileless, unsuspicious mind that the +object of his frequent visits to Enville Court could be any one but +Clare. + +"Sir, I cry you mercy," said Arthur with some dignity. "I do readily +acknowledge that I ought not to have left you in the dark. But to speak +truth, it was she, not I, that would not you should be told." + +"That would not have me told what, Arthur?" + +"That I loved her," said Arthur, his voice slightly tremulous. "And-- +she _said_ she loved me." + +"She told me that she had given thee no encouragement to speak to me." + +"To speak with you--truth. Whene'er I did approach that matter, she +alway deterred me from the same. But if she hath told you, Sir, that +she gave me no encouragement to love and serve her, nor no hope of +wedding with her in due time,--why, then, she hath played you false as +well as me." + +It was manifest that Arthur was not only much distressed, but also very +angry. + +"And thou never spakest word to me, my son!" came in gentle tones of +rebuke from his mother. + +"Ah, the young folks make not the confessor of the father nor the +mother," said Mrs Rose smiling, and shaking her head. "It were the +better that they did it, Arthur." + +"Mother, it was not my fault," pleaded Arthur earnestly. "I would have +spoken both to you and to Sir Thomas here, if she had suffered me. Only +the very last time I urged it on her--and that no further back than this +last week--she threatened me to have no further dealing with me, an' I +spake to either of you." + +"Often-times," observed Mrs Rose thoughtfully, "the maidens love not +like the mothers, _mon cheri_." + +"God have mercy!" groaned poor Sir Thomas, who was not least to be +pitied of the group. "I am afeared Rachel hath the right. Lucrece hath +not been true in this matter." + +"There is no truth in her!" cried Arthur bitterly. "And for the matter +of that, there is none in woman!" + +"_Le beau compliment_!" said his grandmother, laughing. + +His mother looked reproachfully at him, but did not speak. + +"And Rachel saith there is none in man," returned Sir Thomas with grim +humour. "Well-a-day! what will the world come to?" + +These little pebbles in her path did not seem to trouble the easy +smoothness of Lucrece's way. She prepared her trousseau with her +customary placidity; debated measures and trimmings with her aunt as if +entirely deaf to that lady's frequent interpolations of wrath; consulted +Blanche on the style of her jewellery, and Clare on the embroidery of +her ruffs, as calmly as if there were not a shadow on her conscience nor +her heart. Perhaps there was not. + +Sir Piers took Jack down to London, and settled him in his post of +deputy gentleman usher to the Queen; and at the end of six months, he +returned to Enville Court for his marriage. Everything went off with +the most absolute propriety. Lucrece's costume was irreproachable; her +manners, ditto. The festivities were prolonged over a week, and on +their close, Sir Piers and Lady Feversham set out, for their home in +Norfolk. No sign of annoyance was shown from the parsonage, except that +Arthur was not at home when the wedding took place; and that Lysken, +whom Lucrece graciously requested to be one of her bridesmaids, +declined, with a quiet keenness of manner which any one but Lucrece +would have felt. + +"If it should like thee to have me for thy bridesmaid, Lucrece," she +said, looking her calmly in the face, "it should not like me." [In +modern phraseology,--I should not like it.] + +The bride accepted the rebuke with unruffled suavity. + +Of course there were the ceremonies then usual at weddings, and a shower +of old slippers greeted bride and bridegroom as they rode away. + +"Aunt Rachel, you hit her on the head!" cried Blanche, looking +astonished. + +"I took metely good aim," assented Rachel, with grim satisfaction. "A +good riddance of--Blanche, child, if thou wouldst have those flowers to +live, thou wert best put them in water." + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +A GLIMPSE OF THE HOT GOSPELLER. + + "In service which Thy love appoints + There are no bonds for me; + My secret heart has learned the truth + Which makes Thy children free: + A life of self-renouncing love + Is a life of liberty." + + _Anna L. Waring_. + +"I hold not with you there, Parson!" + +The suddenness of this appeal would have startled any one less calm and +self-controlled than the Reverend Robert Tremayne, who was taking off +his surplice in the vestry after morning prayers one Wednesday, when +this unexpected announcement reached him through the partially open +door. But it was not the Rector's habit to show much emotion of any +kind, whatever he might feel. + +"Pray you, come forward," he said quietly, in answer to the challenge. + +The door, pushed wide open by the person without, revealed a handsome +old man, lithe and upright still,--whose hair was pure white, and his +brown eyes quick and radiant. He marched in and seated himself upon the +settle, grasping a stout oaken stick in both hands, and gazing up into +the Rector's face. His dress, no less than his manners, showed that +notwithstanding the blunt and eccentric nature of his greeting, he was +by birth a gentleman. + +"And wherein hold you not with me, Sir, I pray you?" inquired Mr +Tremayne with some amusement. + +"In your tolerating of evil opinion." + +"I cry you mercy. What evil opinion have I tolerated?" + +"If you will tolerate men which hold evil opinions, you must needs +tolerate evil opinion." + +"I scantly see that." + +"Maybe you see this?" demanded the stranger, pulling a well-worn Bible +from a capacious pocket. + +"My sight is sharp enough for so much," returned Mr Tremayne +good-naturedly. + +"Well, and I tell you," said the stranger, poising the open Bible +between his hands, "there is no such word as toleration betwixt the two +backs of this book!" + +The two backs of the book were brought together, by way of emphasising +the assertion, with a bang which might almost have been heard to the +parsonage. + +"There is no such _word_, I grant you." + +"No, Sir!--and there is no such thing." + +"That hangeth, I take it, on what the word is held to signify." + +"Shall I tell you what it signifieth?" + +"Pray you, so do." + +"Faint-heartedness, Sir!--weakness--recreancy--cowardliness--shamedness +of the truth!" + +"An ill-sounding list of names," said Mr Tremayne quietly. "And one of +none whereof I would by my good-will be guilty.--Pray you, whom have I +the honour to discourse withal?" + +"A very pestilent heretic, that Queen Mary should have burned, and +forgat." + +"She did not that with many," was the significant answer. + +"She did rare like to it with a lad that I knew in King Edward's days, +whose name was Robin Tremayne." + +"Master Underhill, my dear old friend!" cried the Rector, grasping his +visitor's hand warmly. "I began these two minutes back to think I +should know those brown eyes, but I might not set a name thereto all at +once." + +"Ha! the `pestilent heretic' helped thee to it, I reckon!" replied the +guest laughing. "Ay, Robin, this is he thou knewest of old time. We +will fight out our duello another time, lad. I am rare glad to see thee +so well-looking." + +"From what star dropped you, Master Underhill? or what fair wind blew +you hither?" + +"I am dropped out of Warwickshire, lad, if that be a star; and I came +hither of a galloway's back (but if he were the wind, 'twas on the +stillest night of the year!) And how goes it with Mrs Thekla? I saw +her last in her bride's gear." + +"She will be rarely glad to see you, old friend; and so, I warrant you, +will our mother, Mistress Rose. Will you take the pain to go with me to +mine house?--where I will ensure you of a good bed and a rare welcome." + +"Wilt thou ensure me of twain, lad?" asked the old man, with a comic +twinkle in his eyes. + +"Twain! What, which of all my small ancient friends be with you?--Ay, +and that as hearty as to yourself.--Is it Hal or Ned?" + +"Thou art an ill guesser, Robin: 'tis neither Ned nor Hal. Thy _small_ +friends, old lad, be every man and woman of them higher than their +father. Come, let us seek the child. I left her a-poring and posing +over one of the tombs in the church.--What, Eunice!--I might as well +have left my staff behind as leave her." + +It was plainly to be perceived, by the loud call which resounded through +the sacred edifice, that Mr Underhill was not fettered by any +superstitious reverence for places. A comely woman answered the call,-- +in years about thirty-seven, in face particularly bright and pleasant. +The last time that Mr Tremayne had seen her, Eunice Underhill was about +as high as the table. + +"And doth Mistress Rose yet live?" said her father, as they went towards +the parsonage. "She must be a mighty old grandame now. And all else be +gone, as I have heard, that were of old time in the Lamb?" + +"All else, saving Barbara Polwhele,--you mind Barbara, the chamber-- +maiden?--and Walter's daughter, Clare, which is now a maid of twenty +years." + +"Ah, I would fain see yon lass of little Walter's. What manner of wife +did the lad wed?" + +"See her--ask not me," said the Rector smiling. + +"Now, how read I that? Which of the Seven Sciences hath she lost her +way in?" + +"In no one of them all." + +"Come, I will ask Mrs Thekla." + +Mr Tremayne laughed. + +"You were best see her for yourself, as I cast no doubt you soon will. +How long time may we hope to keep you?" + +"Shall you weary of us under a month?" + +Mr Underhill was warmly enough assured that there was no fear of any +such calamity. + +Most prominent of his party--which was Puritan of the Puritans--was +Edward Underhill of Honyngham, the Hot Gospeller. His history was a +singular one. Left an heir and an orphan at a very early age, he had +begun life as a riotous reveller. Soon after he reached manhood, God +touched his heart--by what agency is not recorded. Then he "fell to +reading the Scriptures and following the preachers,"--throwing his whole +soul into the service of Christ, as he had done before into that of +Satan. Had any person acquainted with the religious world of that day +been asked, on the outbreak of Queen Mary's persecution, to name the +first ten men who would suffer, it is not improbable that Edward +Underhill's name would have been found somewhere on the list. But, to +the astonishment of all who knew his decided views, and equally decided +character, he had survived the persecution, with no worse suffering than +a month spent in Newgate, and a tedious illness as the result. Nor was +this because he had either hidden his colours, or had struck them. +Rather he kept his standard flying to the breeze, and defied the foe. +No reason can be given for his safety, save that still the God of Daniel +could send His angel and shut the lions' mouths, that they should do His +prophets no hurt. + +On the accession of Elizabeth, Underhill returned for a short time to +his London home in Wood Street, Cheapside; but die soon went back to the +family seat in Warwickshire, where he had since lived as a country +squire. [Note 1.] + +"Yet these last few months gone have I spent in London," said he, "for +my Hal [name true, character imaginary] would needs have me. Now, +Robin, do thou guess what yon lad hath gat in his head. I will give +thee ten shots." + +"No easy task, seeing I ne'er had the good fortune to behold him. What +manner of lad is he?" + +"Eunice?" said her father, referring the question to her. + +Eunice laughed. "Hal is mighty like his father, Master Tremayne. He +hath a stout will of his own, nor should you quickly turn him thence." + +"Lo you, now, what conditions doth this jade give me!" laughed +Underhill. "A stubborn old brute, that will hear no reason!" + +"Hal will not hear o'ermuch, when he is set on aught," said Eunice. + +"Well," said Mr Tremayne thoughtfully, "so being, I would guess that he +had set his heart, to be Archbishop of Canterbury, or else Lord Privy +Seal." + +"_Ma foi_!" interposed Mrs Rose, "but I would guess that no son of Mr +Underhill should tarry short of a king. Mind you not, _hermano_, that I +did once hear you to say that you would not trust your own self, had you +the chance to make your Annette a queen?" + +"Dear heart, Mistress Rose! I would the lad had stayed him at nought +worser. Nay, he is not for going up the ladder, but down. Conceive +you, nought will serve him but a journey o'er seas, and to set him up a +home in the Queen's Majesty's country of Virginia--yea, away in the +plantations, amongst all the savages and wild beasts, and men worser +than either, that have been of late carried thither from this land, for +to be rid of them. `Come, lad,' said I to him, `content thee with +eating of batatas [the Spanish word of which _potato_ is a corruption] +and drinking of tobacco [smoking tobacco was originally termed +_drinking_ it], and leave alone this mad fantasy.' But not he, in good +sooth! Verily, for to go thither as a preacher and teacher, with hope +to reform the ill men,--that had been matter of sore peril, and well to +be thought on; yet would I not have said him nay, had the Lord called +him to it;--but to make his _home_!" + +And Mr Underhill stopped short, as if words were too weak adequately to +convey his feelings. + +"Maybe the Lord hath called him to that, old friend," said the Rector. +"His eyes be on Virginia, no less than England." + +"God forbid I should deny it! Yet there is such gear as tempting the +Lord. For my part,--but la! I am an old man, and the old be less +venturesome than the young,--yet for me, I see not what should move a +man to dwell any whither out of his own country, without he must needs +fly to save his life." + +"Had all men been of your mind," observed Mr Tremayne with a smile, +"there had ne'er been any country inhabited save one, until men were +fairly pushed thence by lack of room." + +"Well!--and wherefore should any quit home until he be pushed out?" + +"Ask at Hal," said the Rector laughing. + +"No have I so? Yea, twenty times twice told: but all I may win from the +young ne'er-do-well is wise saws that the world must be peopled (why so, +I marvel?),--and that there is pleasure in aventure (a deal more, I +reckon, in keeping of one's carcase safe and sound!)--and that some men +must needs dwell in strange lands, and the like. Well-a-day! wherefore +should they so? Tell me that, Robin Tremayne." + +"I will, old friend, when mine amaze is o'er at hearing of such words +from one Ned Underhill." + +"Amaze!--what need, trow?" + +"But little need, when one doth call to mind that the most uncommon of +all things is consistency. Only when one hath been used for forty years +and more to see a man (I name him not) ever foremost in all perilous +aventure, and thrusting him forward into whatsoever danger there were as +into a bath of rosewater, 'tis some little surprise that taketh one to +hear from the self-same party that 'tis never so much sweeter to keep +safe and sound at home." + +Mr Underhill threw his head back, and indulged in a hearty peal of +laughter. + +"On my word, Robin, thou ticklest me sore! But what, lad!--may a man +not grow prudent in his old age?" + +"By all manner of means, or in his youth no less; but this will I say, +that the last prudent man I looked to set eyes on should bear the name +of Underhill." + +"Well-a-day! Here is Eunice made up of prudence." + +"She taketh after her mother, trow," replied the Rector dryly. + +"Come, I'll give o'er, while I have some bones left whole.--And what +thinkest, lad, of the outlook of matters public at this time?" + +"Nay, what think you, that have been of late in London?" + +"Robin," said Mr Underhill gravely, "dost mind, long years gone, when +King Edward his reign was well-nigh o'er, the ferment men's minds gat in +touching the succession?" + +"_Eh, la belle journee_!" said Mrs Rose waggishly. "I do well mind the +ferment _you_ were in, Mr Underhill, and how you did push your Queen +Mary down all the throats of your friends: likewise how sweetly she did +repay you, bidding you for a month's visit to her palace of Newgate! +Pray you, shall it be the same again, _hermano_?" + +"Dear heart! What a memory have you, Mistress Rose!" said Mr +Underhill, with another hearty laugh. "It shall scantly be Newgate +again, metrusteth: the rather, since there is no Queen Mary to thrust +adown your throats--thank the Lord for that and all other His mercies. +He that we may speak of is no Papist, whatso else; but I mistake +greatly, Robin, if somewhat the same matter shall not come o'er again, +should it please God to do a certain thing." + +Mr Underhill spoke thus vaguely, having no wish to finish his days on +the gallows; as men had done ere now, for little more than a hint that +the reigning Sovereign might not live for ever. + +"And when the ferment come, under what flag must we look for you, Mr +Underhill?" asked. Mrs Tremayne. + +"Well," said he, "Harry Eighth left a lad and two lasses, and we have +had them all. But Harry Seventh left likewise a lad and two lasses; and +we have had the lad, but ne'er a one of the lasses." + +"Both these lasses be dead," responded the Rector. + +"They be so. But the first left a lad and a lass; and that lad left a +lass, and that lass left a lad--which is alive and jolly." + +This meant, that Queen Margaret of Scotland, elder sister of Henry the +Eighth, had issue King James the Fifth, whose daughter was Mary Queen of +Scots, and her son was James the Sixth, then living. + +"You count the right lieth there?" queried Mr Tremayne. + +Mr Underhill nodded his head decidedly. + +"And is--yonder party--well or ill affected unto the Gospellers?--how +hear you?" + +"Lutheran to the back-bone--with no love for Puritans, as men do now +begin to call us Hot Gospellers." + +"Thus is the Queen, mecounteth: and we have thriven well under her, and +have full good cause to thank God for her." + +"Fifty years gone, Robin--when she was but a smatchet [a very young +person]--I said that lass would do well. There is a touch of old Hal in +her--not too much, but enough to put life and will into her." + +"There shall scantly be that in him." + +"Nay, I'll not say so much. Meg had a touch of Hal, too. 'Twas ill +turning her down one road an' she took the bit betwixt her teeth, and +had a mind to go the other. There was less of it in Mall, I grant you. +And as to yon poor luckless loon, Mall's heir,--if he wit his own mind, +I reckon 'tis as much as a man may bargain for. England ne'er loveth +such at her helm--mark you that, Robin. She may bear with them, but she +layeth no affiance in them." + +Mr Underhill's hearers knew that by the poor luckless loon, he meant +Edward Seymour, Lord Beauchamp, the representative of the Princess Mary, +younger sister of Henry the Eighth. He was heir of England under +Henry's will, and might, if he had chosen it, have been a very +formidable opponent of King James. + +"There was trial made, in King Harry's days," said the Rector +thoughtfully, "to join the two Crowns of England and Scotland, by +marrying of King Edward, that then was Prince, with their young Queen +Mary." + +"Well-a-day!--what changes had been, had that matter come to +perfection!" + +"It were a mighty great book, friend, that should be writ, were all set +down that might have happened if things had run other than they have +done. But I pray you, what outlook is now for the Gospellers--or +Puritans, if they be so called--these next few years? Apart from the +Court--be they in good odour in London, or how?" + +"Be they in good odour in Heaven, you were better to ask. What is any +great town but a sink of wickedness? And when did ill men hold good men +in esteem?" + +"Ah, Mr Underhill, but there is difficulty beside that," said Mrs +Rose, shaking her head. "Wherefore, will you tell me, cannot the good +men be content to think all the same thing, and not go quarrel, quarrel, +like the little boys at play?" + +"So they should, Mistress Rose!--so they should!" said Mr Underhill +uncompromisingly. "What with these fantasies and sectaries and +follies--well-a-day! were I at the helm, there should be ne'er an +opinion save one." + +"That is the very thing Queen Mary thought," said Mr Tremayne, looking +amused. + +"Dear heart! what will the lad say next?" demanded Mr Underhill in a +surprised tone. + +"'Tis truth, old friend. See you not that to keep men of one opinion, +the only way is to slay them that be of the contrary? Living men must +differ. Only the dead ne'er wrangle touching aught." + +"Eh, Robin, man! `Live peaceably with all men.'" + +"`As much as lieth in you.' Paul was wiser than you, saving your +presence." + +"But, Robin, my son," said Mrs Rose, "I would not say only, for such +matters as men may differ in good reason. They cannot agree on the +greater things, _mon cheri_,--nay, nor on the little, littles no more.-- +Look you, Mr Underhill, we have in this parish a man that call himself +a Brownist--I count he think the brown the only colour that is right; if +he had made the world, all the flowers should be brown, and the leaves +black: eh, _ma foi_! what of a beautiful world to live in!--_Bien_! this +last May Day, Sir Thomas Enville set up the maypole on the green. +`Come, Master,' he said to the Brownist, `you dance round the +maypole?'--`Nay, nay,' saith he, `it savoureth of Popery.' `Well,' +quoth he, `then you come to prayer in the church! There is nothing +against that, I trow?'--`Good lack, nay!' saith he, `'tis an idle form. +I cannot pray without the Spirit aid me; and the Spirit will not be +bounden down unto dead forms.' And so, Mr Underhill, they fall to +wrangling. Now, is it not sad? Not only they will not take their +pleasure together, but they will not say their prayers together no more. +Yet they all look to meet in Heaven. They will not wrangle and quarrel +there, I trow? Then why can they not be at peace these few days the +sooner?" + +This was a long speech for Mrs Rose. + +"Well, to speak truth," said Mr Underhill, "I could find in mine heart +to cry `Hail, fellow!' to your Brownist over the maypole: though I see +not wherein it savoureth of Popery, but rather of Paganism. Howbeit, as +I well know, Popery and Paganism be sisters, and dwell but over the way +the one from the other. But as to the Common Prayer being but a form, +and that dead,--why, I pray you, what maketh it a dead form save the +dead heart of him that useth the same? The very Word of God is but a +dead thing, if the soul of him that readeth it be dead." + +A certain section of the laity are earnestly petitioning the clergy for +"a hearty service." Could they make a more absurd request? The heart +is in the worshipper, not in the service. And who can bring his heart +to it but himself? + +"_Ma foi_!" said Mrs Rose, with a comical little grimace, "but indeed I +did think, when we were set at rest from the Queen Mary and her +burnings, that we could have lived at peace the ones with the others." + +"Then which counted you to be rid of, Mistress Rose--the childre of God +or the childre of the devil?. So long as both be in the world, I reckon +there'll not be o'er much peace," bluntly replied Underhill. + +"Mind you what my dear father was used to say," asked Mr +Tremayne,--"`Afore the kingdom must come the King'? Ah, dear friends, +we have all too little of Christ. `We shall be satisfied,' and we shall +be of one mind in all things, only when we wake up `after His +likeness.'" + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Clare Avery and Eunice Underhill struck up a warm friendship. Eunice +[name and dates true, character imaginary] was one of the few women who +keep "the dew of their youth," and in freshness, innocence, and +ignorance of this evil world, she was younger than many girls not half +her age. Her simplicity put Clare at ease, while her experience of life +awoke respect. Clare seized her opportunity one day, while taking a +long walk with Eunice, to obtain the opinion of the latter on the point +which still interested her, and compare it with that of Mrs Tremayne. +Why it was easier to talk to Eunice than to those at home, Clare could +not decide. Perhaps, had she discovered the reason, she might not have +found it very flattering to her self-love. + +"Mistress Eunice, think you it easy to be content with small gear?" + +"You would say with lack of goods?" asked Eunice. + +"Nay; but with the having to deal with petty, passing matter, in the +stead of some noble deed that should be worthy the doing." + +"I take you now, Mistress Clare. And I can feel for your perplexity, +seeing I have known the same myself." + +"Oh, you have so?" responded Clare eagerly. + +"Ay, I have felt as though the work set me to do were sheer waste of +such power and knowledge as God had given unto me; and have marvelled (I +would speak it with reverence) what the Lord would be at, that He thus +dealt with me. Petty things--mean things--little passing matter, as you +said, that none shall be the better for to-morrow; wherefore must I do +these? I have made a pudding, maybe; I have shaken up a bed; I have cut +an old gown into a kirtle. And to-morrow the pudding shall be eaten, +and the bed shall lack fresh straw, and ere long the gown shall be worn +to rags. But I shall live for ever. Wherefore should a soul be set to +such work which shall live for ever?" + +"Ay,--you know!" said Clare, drawing a deep breath of satisfaction. +"Now tell me, Mistress Eunice, what answer find you to this question? +Shall it be with you, as with other, that these be my tasks at school?" + +"That is verily sooth, Mistress Clare; yet there is another light +wherein I love the better to look thereat. And it is this: that in this +world be no little things." + +"What would you say, Mistress Eunice? In good sooth, it seemeth me the +rather, there be few great." + +"I cry you mercy," said Eunice, with her bright smile. "Lo' you,--'tis +after this fashion. The pudding I have made a man shall eat, and +thereby be kept alive. This man shall drop a word to another, which one +passing by shall o'erhear,--on the goodness and desirableness of +learning, I will say. Well, this last shall turn it o'er in his mind, +and shall determine to send his lad to school, and have him well +learned. Time being gone, this lad shall write a book, or shall preach +a sermon, whereby, through the working of God's Spirit, many men's +hearts shall be touched, and led to consider the things that belong unto +their peace. Look you, here is a chain; and in this great chain one +little link is the pudding which I made, twenty years gone." + +"But the man could have eaten somewhat else." + +"Soothly; but he did not, you see." + +"Or another than you could have made the pudding." + +"Soothly, again: but I was to make it." + +Clare considered this view of the case. + +"All things in this world, Mistress Clare, be links in some chain. In +Dutchland [Germany], many years gone now, a young man that studied in an +university there was caught in an heavy thunderstorm. He grew sore +affrighted; all his sins came to his mind: and he prayed Saint Anne to +dispel the storm, promising that he would straightway become a monk. +The storm rolled away, and he suffered no harm. But he was mindful of +his vow, and he became a monk. Well, some time after, having a spare +half-hour, he went to the library to get him a book. As God would have +it, he reached down a Latin Bible, the like whereof he had ne'er seen +aforetime. Through the reading of this book--for I am well assured you +know that I speak of Luther--came about the full Reformation of religion +which, thanks be to God! is now spread abroad. And all this cometh--to +speak after the manner of men--in that one Martin was at one time +affrighted with the thunder; and, at another time, reached him down a +book. Nay, Mistress Clare--in God's world be no little things!" + +"Mistress Eunice, in so saying, you make life to look a mighty terrible +thing, and full of care." + +"And is life not a most terrible thing to them that use it not aright? +But for them that do trust them unto God's guidance, and search His Word +to see what He would have them do, and seek alway and above all things +but to do His will,--it may be life is matter for meditation, yea, and +watchfulness; but methinks none for care. God will see to the chain: +'tis He, not we, that is weaver thereof. We need but to be careful, +each of his little link." + +"My links be wearyful ones!" said Clare with a little sigh. "'Tis to +cut, and snip, and fit, and sew, and guard, and mend. My cousin Lysken +dealeth with men and women, I with linen and woollen. Think you it +strange that her work should seem to me not only the nobler, but the +sweeter belike?" + +"Methinks I have seen Mistress Lysken to deal pretty closely with linen +and woollen, sithence Father and I came hither," said Eunice smiling. +"But in very deed, Mistress Clare, 'tis but nature that it so should +seem unto you. Yet did it ever come into your mind, I pray you, that we +be poor judges of that which is high and noble? I marvel if any save +Christ and Gabriel e'er called John Baptist a great man. Yet he was +great in the sight of the Lord. Yea, that word, `more than a prophet' +was the very accolade of the King of the whole world. You know, +Mistress Clare, that if the Queen's Majesty should call a man `Sir +Robert,' though it were but a mistake, and he no knight, that very word +from her should make him one. And the King of Heaven can make no +mistake; His great men be great men indeed. Now whether would you +rather, to be great with men, or with God?" + +"Oh, with God, undoubtedly!" said Clare shyly. + +"It seemeth me," said Eunice, knitting her brows a little, "there be +three questions the which your heart may ask himself touching your work. +_Wherefore_ do I this? You will very like say, Because you be bidden. +Good. But then--_How_ do I this?--is it in the most excellent way I +can? And yet again, _For whom_ do I this? That last lieth deepest of +all." + +"Why, I do it for my mother and Aunt Rachel," said Clare innocently. + +"Good. But wherefore not, henceforward, do it for God?" + +"For God, Mistress Eunice!" + +"'Tis the true touchstone of greatness. Nought can be little that a man +doth for God; like as nought can be great that a man doth but for +himself." + +"Lysken can work for God," said Clare thoughtfully; "but I, who do but +draw needles in and out--" + +"Cannot draw them for God? Nay, but Paul thought not so. He biddeth +you `whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do _all_ to the +glory of God.' But mind you, only the very best work is to His glory: +that is to say, only _your_ very best. He measures not Mall's work by +Jane's, but he looketh at the power of both, and judgeth if they have +wrought their best or no. Jane may have finished the better piece of +work, but if Mall have wrought to her utmost, and Jane not so, then +Mall's work shall take first rank, and Jane's must fall behind." + +"That is a new thought unto me, Mistress Eunice--that I can do such work +for God. I did indeed account that I could be patient under the same, +for to please Him: and I could have thought that the saving of a child +from drowning, or the leading of a ship to battle, and so forth, might +be done as unto God: but to cut and sew and measure!" + +"I would 'twere not a new thought to many another," answered Eunice. +"But I guess we can sew well or ill; and we can cut carefully or +carelessly; and we can measure truly or untruly. Truth is no little +matter, Mistress Clare; neither is diligence; nor yet a real, honest, +hearty endeavouring of one's self to please the Lord, who hath given us +our work, in every little thing. Moreover, give me leave to tell you,-- +you may be set a great work, and you may fail to see the greatness +thereof. I mind me, when I was something younger than you be, and my +brother Hal was but a little child, he fell into sore danger, and should +belike have been killed, had none stretched out hand to save him. Well, +as the Lord in His mercy would have it, I saw his peril, and I ran and +snatched up the child in the very nick of time. There was but an +half-minute to do it. And at afterward, men praised me, and said I had +done a great thing. But think you it bare the face of a great thing to +me, as I was in the doing thereof? Never a whit. I ne'er tarried to +think if it were a great thing or a small: I thought neither of me nor +of my doing, but alonely of our Hal, and how to set him in safety. They +said it was a great matter, sith I had risked mine own life. But, dear +heart! I knew not that I risked aught--I ne'er thought once thereon. +Had I known it, I would have done the same, God helping me: but I knew +it not. Now, whether was this a great thing or a small?" + +"I have no doubt to say, a great." + +"Maybe, Mistress Clare, when you and I shall stand--as I pray God we +may!--among the sheep at the right hand of Christ our Saviour,--when the +books be opened, and the dead judged according to that which is written +of them,--He may pick out some little petty deed (to our eyes), and may +say thereof, This was a great thing in My sight. And it may be, too, +that the deeds we counted great He shall pass by without any mention. +Dear heart, let us do the small deeds to our utmost, and the great are +sure to follow. `He that is faithful in that which is least, is +faithful also in much.' And you know what He saith touching that poor +cup of cold water, which assuredly is but a right small thing to give. +Think you, if the Queen's Highness were passing here but now, and should +drop her glove, and you picked up the same and offered it to Her +Grace,--should you e'er forget it? I trow not. Yet what a petty +matter--to pick up a dropped glove! `Ah, but,' say you, `It was the +Queen's glove--that wrought the difference.' Verily so. Then set the +like gilding upon your petty deeds. It is the King's work. You have +wrought for the King. Your guerdon is His smile--is it not enough?--and +your home shall be within His house for ever." + +"Ay!" said Clare, drawing a long sigh--not of care: "it is enough, +Mistress Eunice." + +"And He hath no lack of our work," added Eunice softly. "It is _given_ +to us to do, like as it was given unto Peter and John to suffer. +Methinks he were neither a good child nor a thankful, that should refuse +to stretch forth hand for his Father's gift." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. I have not been able to ascertain the true date of Underhill's +death, but he was living on the 6th of March 1568. (Rot. Pat., 10 +Elizabeth, Part Two.) + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +GENTLEMAN JACK. + + "He is transformed, And grown a gallant of the last edition." + + _Massinger_. + +Jack's letters from London were exuberant. He was delighted with his +new phase of existence. He had made some most advantageous friendships, +and was in hopes of obtaining a monopoly, which would bring him in about +a hundred a year. In the meantime, he begged that his father would +remember that life at Court was a very costly affair; and perhaps he +would be so good as to send him a little more money. Half-a-dozen +letters of this description passed, and Jack was liberally supplied with +such an amount as his father anticipated that he might reasonably want. +But at the end of about two years came a much more urgent epistle. Jack +was sorry to say that he had been unavoidably compelled to go into debt. +No blame was to be attached to him in the matter. He had not incurred +the obligation of a penny for anything beyond the barest necessaries; he +hoped his father would not imagine that he had been living +extravagantly. But he wished Sir Thomas to understand that he really +had not a suspicion of the inevitable expenses of Court life. The sums +which he had been so good as to remit were a mere drop in the ocean of +Jack's necessities. + +Sir Thomas replied, without any expression of displeasure, that if his +son could get leave of absence sufficient to pay a visit to Lancashire, +he would be glad to see him at home, and he desired that he would bring +all his bills with him. + +The answer to this letter was Jack himself, who came home on an autumn +evening, most elaborately attired, and brimful of news. + +A fresh punishment had been devised for felony--transportation to the +colonies among the savages. The Spaniards were finally and completely +expelled from the Dutch provinces. A Dutchman had made the +extraordinary discovery that by an ingenious arrangement of pieces of +glass, of certain shapes, at particular distances, objects far off could +be made to seem nearer and larger. The Queen was about to send out a +commercial expedition to India--the first--from which great things were +expected. There was a new proclamation against Jesuits and "seminary +priests." All these matters naturally enough, with Jack's personal +adventures, occupied the first evening. + +The next morning, Sir Thomas asked to see the bills. Jack brought out a +tolerably large package of documents, which he presented to his father +with a graceful reverence. + +"I do ensure you, Sir, that I have involved me for nought beyond the +barest necessities of a gentleman." + +His father opened and perused the first bill. + +"`One dozen of shirts at four pound the piece.' Be those, my lad, among +the barest necessities?" + +"Of a gentleman, Sir," said Jack. + +"Four pound, Brother! Thou must mean four shillings," cried Rachel. + +"'Tis writ four pound," calmly returned Sir Thomas. + +"Good lack Jack!" said Rachel, turning to her nephew. "Were there +angels for buttons all the way down?" + +"The broidery, Aunt--the broidery!" returned Jack. "Four pound is a +reasonable charge enough. Marry, I do ensure you, my sometime Lord of +Leicester was wont to pay ten pound the piece for his shirts." + +"I would I had been his shirt-maker!" said Rachel. "'Twould have built +up my fortune." + +"What wist thou touching broidery, Jack?" demanded Lady Enville, with +her silvery laugh. + +"Go to!" said Sir Thomas, taking up the next bill. "`Five score of silk +stockings, broidered, with golden clocks [Note 1], twenty-six and +eight-pence the pair.'--Those be necessaries, belike, Jack?" + +"Assuredly, Sir. White, look you--a pair the day, or maybe two." + +"Ha!" said his father. "`Item, one short coat, guarded with budge +[lambskin], and broidered in gold thread, 45 pounds.--Item, one long +gown of tawny velvet, furred with pampilion [an unknown species of fur], +and guarded with white lace, 66 pounds, 13 shillings, 4 pence.'-- +Necessaries, Jack?" + +"Mercy preserve us!" ejaculated Rachel. + +"Good lack, Sir Thomas!--the lad must have gear!" urged his step-mother. + +Sir Thomas laid down the bills. + +"Be so good, Jack, as to tell me the full figures of these counts?" + +"Good sooth, Sir! I have not added them," replied Jack in a +contemptuous tone. "A gentleman is ne'er good at reckoning." + +"He seems to be reasonable good at spending," said his father. "But how +much, Jack, dost guess they may all come to?" + +"Really, Sir, I cannot say." + +"Go to--give a guess." + +"Marry--somewhere about five thousand pound, it may be." + +According to the equivalent value of money in the present day, Jack's +debts amounted to about seventy-five thousand pounds. His father's +yearly income was equal to about six thousand. + +"How lookest thou to pay this money, Jack?" asked Sir Thomas, in a tone +of preternatural calmness which argued rather despair than lack of +annoyance. + +"Well, Sir, there be two or three fashions of payment," returned Jack, +airily. "If you cannot find the money--" + +"I cannot, in very deed, lad." + +"Good," answered Jack quite complacently. "Then--if I win not the +monopoly--" + +"The monopoly would not pay thy debts under fifty years, Jack; not if +thou gavest every penny thereof thereto, and hadst none fresh to pay. +How about that, lad?" + +"Of course I must live like a gentleman, Sir," said Jack loftily. "Then +the next way is to win the grant of a wardship." + +This way of acquiring money is so entirely obsolete that it needs +explanation. The grant of a wardship meant that some orphan heir of a +large inheritance was placed in the care of the grantee, who was obliged +to defray out of the heir's estate the necessary expenses of his +sustenance and education, but was free to apply all the surplus to his +own use until the heir was of age. When the inheritance was large, +therefore, the grant was a considerable boon to the guardian. + +"And supposing that fail thee?" + +"Well, then--if the worst come to the worst--I can but wed an heir," +remarked Jack with serenity. + +"Wed an estate, thou meanest, Jack." + +"Of course, Sir. The woman must come with it, I reckon. That I cannot +help." + +"Marry come up!" exclaimed Rachel. "Thou art a very man. Those be +right the man's ways. `The woman must come with it,' forsooth! Jack, +my fingers be itching to thrash thee." + +"Such matters be done every day, Aunt," observed Jack, smiling +graciously,--not with reference to the suggested reward of his misdeeds. + +"Black sin is done every day, lad. I wis that without thy telling. But +that is no cause why thou shouldst be the doer of it." + +"Nay, Aunt Rachel!" retorted Jack, in the same manner. "'Tis no sin to +wed an heir." + +"It was a sin, when I was a child, to tell lies. Maybe that is altered +now," said Rachel dryly. + +"What lies, Aunt Rachel?" asked Jack laughing. + +"Is it no lie, Jack, to lead a woman into believing that thou lovest +_her_, when, if she plucked her purse out of her pocket and gave it +thee, thou wert fully content, and shouldst ask no more?" + +"You have old-fashioned notions, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, still +laughing. + +"Jack! I do trust thou wilt not wed with any but one of good degree. +Let her be a knight's daughter, at the least--a lord's were all the +better," said his step-mother. + +"But touching these debts, Jack," resumed his father. "Suppose thou +shouldst fail to wed thine heir,--how then?" + +"Then, Sir, I shall trust to redeem the money at play." + +Every man of substance--not a Puritan--was at that time a gamester. + +"And how, if that fail?" + +"They can't all fail, Sir!" said Jack lightly. + +"My lad!" replied His father earnestly, "I did an ill deed when I sent +thee to London." + +"Dear heart, Sir!" exclaimed Jack, just suppressing a much stronger +ejaculation, "I do ensure you, you never did a wiser thing." + +"Then my life hath been one of sore folly," answered his father. + +"I alway told thee thou shouldst come to wrack," added his aunt. + +"Nay, now, what wrack have I come to?" returned Jack with a graceful +flourish of his hands. "Call you it wrack to have a good post in the +Queen's Majesty's house, with hope of a better, maybe, when it please +God?--or, to be well [stand well, be on good terms] with many honourable +gentlemen, and heirs of good houses, throughout all England?--or, to +have the pick of their sisters and cousins, when it liketh me to wed?" + +"They shall have a jolly picking that pick out thee!" growled Aunt +Rachel. + +"Or to have open door of full many honourable houses,--and good credit, +that there is not a craftsman in London that should not count it honour +to serve me with such goods as I might choose?" pursued Jack. + +"A mighty barren honour, Jack, on thine own showing." + +"Jack!" interposed Sir Thomas, who had seemed deep in thought for a +minute, "tell me honestly,--of this five thousand pound, if so be, how +much was lost at the dice?" + +"Why, Sir!--you did not count I should reckon my debts of honour?" + +Sir Thomas groaned within himself. + +"Debts of honour!" cried Rachel. "What, be there a parcel more?" + +"These be trade-debts, Aunt!" said Jack, with an injured air,--"debts +that I can defray or leave, as it may stand with conveniency. My debts +of honour must be paid, of course!--I looked to your bounty, Sir, for +that. They be not much--but a light thousand or twelve hundred pound, I +take it." + +That is to say, about 15,000 pounds to 18,000 pounds. + +"Jack!" said his father, "dost remember thou hast two sisters yet +unwed?" + +"One, Sir, under your good pleasure," replied Jack suavely. + +"Two," gravely repeated Sir Thomas. "I will set no difference betwixt +Blanche and Clare. And they be to portion, lad; and we have all to +live. I cannot pay thy debts of honour and see to these likewise. And, +Jack, the trade-debts, as thou callest them, must come first." + +"Sir!" exclaimed Jack aghast. + +"I say, the trade-debts must stand first," repeated his father firmly. + +"A gentleman never puts his trade-debts before his debts of honour, +Sir!" cried Jack in a tone of intense disgust mixed with amazement. + +"I know not what you gentlemen of the Court may account honour nor +honesty, Sir," replied Sir Thomas, now sternly; "but I am a plain honest +man, that knows nought of Court fashions, for the which His good +providence I thank God. And if it be honest to heap up debt that thou +hast no means of paying to thy certain knowledge, then I know not the +signification of honesty." + +"But I must play, Sir!" replied Jack--in the tone with which he might +have said, "I must breathe." + +"Then thou must pay," said Sir Thomas shortly. + +"Must play, quotha!" interjected Rachel. "Thou must be a decent lad,-- +that is all the must I see." + +"Come, be not too hard on the lad!" pleaded Lady Enville, fanning +herself elegantly. "Of course he must live as other young men." + +"That is it, Madam!" responded Jack eagerly, turning to his welcome +ally. "I cannot affect singularity--'tis not possible." + +"Of course not," said Lady Enville, who quite agreed with Jack's +sentiments, as women of her type generally do. + +"Thou canst affect honesty, trow," retorted Rachel. + +"Sir," said Jack, earnestly addressing his father, "I do entreat you, +look on this matter in a reasonable fashion." + +"That is it which I would fain do, Jack." + +"Well, Sir,--were I to put my trade-debts before my debts of honour, all +whom I know should stamp me as no gentleman. They should reckon me some +craftsman's son that had crept in amongst them peradventure." + +"Good lack!" said his step-mother and aunt together,--the former in +dismay, the latter in satire. + +"I am willing that any should count me no gentleman, if he find me not +one," answered his father; "but one thing will I never do, and that is, +give cause to any man to reckon me a knave." + +"But, Sir, these be nought save a parcel of beggarly craftsmen." + +"Which thou shouldst have been, had it so pleased God," put in Aunt +Rachel. + +"Aunt," said Jack loftily, "I was born a gentleman; and under your good +leaves, a gentleman I do mean to live and die." + +"Thou hast my full good leave to live and die a gentleman, my lad," said +his father; "and that is, a man of honour, truth, and probity." + +"And 'tis no true man, nor an honourable, that payeth not his just +debts," added Rachel. + +"I cry thee mercy, Rachel; a gentleman never troubleth him touching +debts," observed Lady Enville. + +"In especial unto such like low companions as these," echoed Jack. + +"Well!--honesty is gone out of fashion, I reckon," said Rachel. + +"Only this will I say, Sir," resumed Jack with an air of settling +matters: "that if you will needs have my trade-debts defrayed before my +debts of honour, you must, an't like you, take them on yourself. I will +be no party to such base infringement of the laws of honour." + +"Good lack, lad! Thou talkest as though thy father had run into debt, +and was looking unto thee to defray the charges! 'Tis tother way about, +Jack. Call thy wits together!" exclaimed his aunt. + +"Well, Aunt Rachel, you seem determined to use me hardly," said Jack, +with an air of reluctant martyrdom; "but you will find I harbour no +malice for your evil conception of mine intents." + +To see this Jack, who had done all the mischief and made everybody +uncomfortable, mount on his pedestal and magnanimously forgive them, was +too much for Rachel's equanimity. + +"Of all the born fools that e'er gat me in a passion, Jack, thou art +very king and captain! I would give my best gown this minute thou wert +six in the stead of six-and-twenty--my word, but I would leather thee! +I would whip thee till I was dog-weary, whatever thou shouldst be. The +born patch [fool]!--the dolt [dunce]!--the lither loon [idle, +good-for-nothing fellow]!--that shall harbour no malice against me +because--he is both a fool and a knave! If thou e'er hadst any sense, +Jack (the which I doubt), thou forgattest to pack it up when thou +earnest from London. Of all the long-eared asses ever I saw--" + +Mistress Rachel's diatribe came to a sudden close, certainly not from +the exhaustion of her feelings, but from the want of suitable words +wherein to express them. + +"Aunt!" said Jack, still in an injured tone, "would you have me to +govern myself by rule and measure, like a craftsman?" + +"Words be cast away on thee, Jack: I will hold my peace. When thy +brains be come home from the journey they be now gone, thou canst give +me to wit, an' it like thee." + +"I marvel," murmured Sir Thomas absently, "what Master Tremayne should +say to all this." + +"He!" returned Jack with sovereign scorn. "He is a Puritan!" + +"He is a good man, Jack. And I doubt--so he keep out of ill company-- +whether Arthur shall give him the like care," said his father sighing. + +"Arthur! A sely milksop, Sir, that cannot look a goose in the face!" + +"Good lack! how shall he ever win through this world, that is choke-full +of geese?" asked Rachel cuttingly. + +"Suffer me to say, Sir, that Puritans be of no account in the Court." + +"Of earth, or Heaven?" dryly inquired Sir Thomas. + +"The Court of England, I mean, Sir. They be universally derided and +held of low esteem. All these Sectaries--Puritans, Gospellers, +Anabaptists, and what not--no gentleman would be seen in their company." + +"Dear heart!" growled the still acetic Rachel. "The angels must be +mighty busy a-building chambers for the gentry, that they mix not in +Heaven with the poor common saints." + +"'Tis the general thought, Aunt, among men of account.--and doth commend +itself for truth,--that 't will take more ill-doing to damn a gentleman +than a common man." [Note 2.] + +"Good lack! I had thought it should be the other way about," said +Rachel satirically. + +"No doubt," echoed Lady Enville--in approbation of Jack's sentiment, not +Rachel's. + +"Why, Aunt!--think you no account is taken of birth and blood in +Heaven?" + +"Nay, I'll e'en let it be," said Rachel, rising and opening the door. +"Only look thou, Jack,--there is another place than Heaven; and I don't +reckon there be separate chambers there. Do but think what it were, if +it _should_ chance to a gentleman to be shut up yonder along with the +poor sinners of the peasantry!" + +And leaving this Parthian dart, Rachel went her way. + +"I will talk with thee again, Jack: in the mean while, I will, keep +these," said his father, taking up the bills. + +"As it like you, Sir," responded Jack airily. "I care not though I +never see them again." + +"What ado is here!" said Lady Enville, as her husband departed. "I am +sore afeared thou wilt have some trouble hereabout, Jack. Both thy +father and aunt be of such ancient notions." + +Jack bent low, with a courtier's grace, to kiss his step-mother's hand. + +"Trouble, Madam," he said--and spoke truly--"trouble bideth no longer on +me than water on a duck's back." + +"And now tell me, Tremayne, what shall I do with this lad?" + +"I am afeared, Sir Thomas, you shall find it hard matter to deal with +him." + +"Good lack, these lads and lasses!" groaned poor Sir Thomas. "They do +wear a man's purse--ay, and his heart. Marry, but I do trust I gave no +such thought and sorrow to my father! Yet in very deed my care for the +future passeth it for the past. If Jack go on thus, what shall the end +be?" + +Mr Tremayne shook his head. + +"Can you help me to any argument that shall touch the lad's heart?" + +"Argument ne'er touched a man's heart yet," said the Rector. "That is +but for the head. There is but one thing that will touch the heart to +any lasting purpose; and that is, the quickening grace of God the Holy +Ghost." + +"Nay, all they seem to drift further away from Him," sighed the father +sadly. + +"My good friend, it may seem so to you, mainly because yourself are +coming nearer." + +Sir Thomas shook his head sorrowfully. + +"Nay, for I ne'er saw me to be such a sinner as of late I have. You +call not that coming nearer God?" + +"Ay, but it is!" said Mr Tremayne. "Think you, friend; you _were_ such +a sinner all your life long, though it be only now that, thanks to God, +you see it. And I do in very deed hope and trust that you have this +true sight of yourself because the Lord hath touched your eyes with the +ointment of His grace. Maybe you are somewhat like as yet unto him +whose eyen Christ touched, that at first he could not tell betwixt men +and trees. The Lord is not like to leave His miracle but half wrought. +He will perfect that which He hath begun." + +"God grant it!" said Sir Thomas feelingly. "But tell me, what can I do +for Jack? I would I had listed you and Rachel, and had not sent him to +London. Sir Piers, and Orige, and the lad himself, o'er-persuaded me. +I rue it bitterly; but howbeit, what is done is done. The matter is, +what to do now?" + +"The better way, methinks, should be that you left him to smart for it +himself, an' you so could." + +"Jack will ne'er smart for aught," said his father. "Were I to stay his +allowance, he should but run into further debt, ne'er doubting to pay +the same somewhen and somehow. The way and the time he should leave to +chance. I see nought but ruin before the lad. He hath learned over ill +lessons in the Court,--of honour which is clean contrary to common +honesty, and courtesy which standeth not with plain truth." + +"Ay, the Devil can well glose," [flatter, deceive] said Mr Tremayne +sadly. + +"The lad hath no conscience!" added Sir Thomas. "With all this, he +laugheth and singeth as though nought were on his mind. Good lack! but +if I had done as he, I had been miserable thereafter. I conceive not +such conditions." + +"I conceive them, for I have seen them aforetime. But I would not have +such a conscience for the worth of the Queen's Mint." + +Indeed, Jack did seem perfectly happy. His appetite, sleep, and +spirits, were totally unaffected by his circumstances. Clare, to whom +this anomaly seemed preposterous, one day asked him if he were happy. + +"Happy?" repeated Jack. "For sure! Wherefore no?" + +Clare did not tell him. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +One evening in the week of Jack's return, to the surprise of all, in +walked Mr John Feversham. He did not seem to have much to say, except +that Uncle Piers and Aunt Lucrece were well. In fact, he never had much +to say. Nor did he think it necessary to state what had brought him to +Lancashire. He was asked to remain, of course, to which he assented, +and slipped into his place with a quiet ponderosity which seemed to +belong to him. + +"An oaken yule-log had as much sense, and were quicker!" [livelier] +said Jack aside to Blanche. + +"Nay, he wanteth not for sense, I take it," returned his sister, "but of +a truth he is solid matter." + +"I marvel if he ever gat into debt," observed Clare quietly from the +other side of Jack. + +"He!" sneered that young gentleman. "He is the fashion of man that +should pay all his trade-debts and ne'er ask for a rebate." + +"Well! methinks that were no very ill deed," said Clare. + +"A deed whereof no gentleman of spirit should be guilty!" + +"There be divers sorts of spirits, Jack." + +"There is but one manner of spirit," returned Jack sharply, "and I ne'er +saw a spark thereof in yon bale of woollen goods labelled Jack +Feversham." + +"May be thou wilt, some day," answered Clare. + +"That will be when the Ribble runneth up instead of down. He is a +coward,--mine head to yon apple thereon." + +"Be not so sure thereof." + +"But I am sure thereof--as sure as a culverin shot." + +Clare dropped the subject. + +Rather late on the following evening, with his usual quiet, +business-like air, John Feversham asked for a few words with Sir Thomas. +Then--to the astonishment of that gentleman--the purport of his visit +came out. He wanted Blanche. + +Sir Thomas was quite taken by surprise. It had never occurred to him +that silent John Feversham had the faintest design upon any one. And +what could this calm, undemonstrative man have seen in the butterfly +Blanche, which had captivated him, of all people? He promised an answer +the next day; and, feeling as if another straw had been added to his +burden, he went to consult the ladies. + +Lady Enville disapproved of the proposal. So unlike Don Juan!--so +totally inferior, in every respect! And would it not be desirable to +wait and see whether John were really likely to succeed to his uncle's +inheritance within any reasonable time? she calmly urged. Sir Piers +might live twenty years yet, or he might have a family of his own, and +then where would John Feversham be? In present circumstances, concluded +her Ladyship, enjoying the scent of her pomander, she thought this a +most undesirable match for Blanche, who could not do much worse, and +might do much better. + +Rachel, as might be expected, took the contrary view. Unlike Don +Juan!--yes, she hoped so, indeed! This was a sensible young man, who, +it might be trusted, would keep Blanche in order, which she was likely +enough to need as long as she lived. How should the girl do better? By +all means take advantage of the offer. + +"Well, should Blanche know? That is, before acceptance." + +"Oh, ay!" said Lady Enville. + +"Oh, no!" said Rachel. + +In Rachel's eyes, the new-fangled plan of giving the young lady a voice +in the question was fraught with danger. But Lady Enville prevailed. +Blanche was summoned, and asked what she thought of John Feversham. + +It did not appear that Blanche had thought much about him at all. She +was rather inclined to laugh at and despise him. + +Well, had she any disposition to marry him? + +Blanche's shrinking--"Oh no, an' it liked you, Father!"--decided the +matter. + +To all outward appearance, John Feversham took his rejection very +quietly. Sir Thomas couched it in language as kind as possible. John +said little in answer, and exhibited no sign of vexation. But Rachel, +who was still pursuing her career of amateur detective, thought that he +felt more distress than he showed. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. The embroidery about the heel and ankle, which showed above the +low shoes then fashionable. + +Note 2. Lest the reader should think this idea too preposterous to have +been seriously entertained, I refer him to words actually uttered (and +approved by the hearers) on the death of Philippe, Duke of Orleans, +brother of Louis the Fourteenth:--"I can assure you, God thinks twice +before He damns a person of the Prince's quality."--(_Memoires de +Dangeau_). + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +WHICH WAS THE COWARD? + + "Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n'ai point + d'autre crainte." + + _Racine_. + +"There shall be a bull baited to-morrow at Rosso Hall," [now Rossall] +said Jack one evening at rear-supper. "I shall be there, without fail; +who goeth withal?" + +Lady Enville was doubtful of the weather, but she expressed no +compassion for the bull. Clare declined without giving her reason. +Blanche looked as if she did not know whether or not to ask permission +to accompany her brother. Sir Thomas said he had too much to think +about; and if not, it was an amusement for which he had no fancy. + +"And thou, Feversham?" + +"No! I thank you." + +"No!--and wherefore?" + +"Because I count it not right." + +"Puritan!" cried Jack in accents of the deepest scorn. Feversham +continued his supper with great unconcern. + +"Art thou no Puritan?" + +"What is a Puritan?" calmly returned John. + +"One that reckoneth a laugh sin." + +"Then, if so be, I am no Puritan." + +"Jack!" reproved his father. + +"Sir, of all things in this world, there is nought I do loathe and +despise like to a Puritan!" + +"There is a worse thing than reckoning a laugh to be sin, Jack," said +Sir Thomas gravely; "and that is, reckoning sin a thing to laugh at." + +"And wherefore dost loathe a Puritan, quotha?" demanded Rachel. "Be +they so much better than thou?" + +"There be no gentlemen amongst them, Aunt Rachel," suggested Blanche +mischievously. + +"They set them up for having overmuch goodness," answered Jack in a +disgusted tone. + +"Prithee, Jack, how much goodness is that?" his Aunt Rachel wished to +know. + +"Over Jack's goodness," whispered Blanche. + +"There is not one that is not a coward," resumed Jack, ignoring the +query. "As for Feversham yonder, I can tell why he would not go." + +"Why?" said Feversham, looking up. + +"Because," returned Jack with lofty scorn, "thou art afeared lest the +bull should break loose." + +Blanche was curious to hear what John Feversham would say to this +accusation--one which to her mind was a most insulting one. Surely this +would rouse him, if anything could. + +"That is not all I am afeared of," said John quietly. + +"Art thou base enough to confess fear?" cried Jack, as if he could +hardly believe his ears. + +John Feversham looked him steadily in the face. + +"Ay, Jack Enville," he said, unmoved by the taunt. "I am afeared of +God." + +"Well said, my brave lad!" muttered Sir Thomas. + +Jack turned, and left the hall without answering. But after that +evening, his whole conduct towards Feversham evinced the uttermost +contempt. He rarely spoke to him, but was continually speaking at him, +in terms which classed him with "ancient wives" and "coward loons"-- +insinuations so worded that it was impossible to reply, and yet no one +could doubt what was meant by them. Unless Feversham were extremely +careless of the opinion of his fellows, he must have found this very +galling; but he showed no indication of annoyance, beyond an occasional +flush and quiver of the lip. Sir Thomas had at once exhibited his +displeasure when he heard this, so that Jack restricted his +manifestations to times when his father was absent; but the amusement +sometimes visible in Blanche's face was not likely to be pleasant to the +man whom Blanche had refused to marry. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +"Well, Sir?" queried Jack one Saturday evening, as the family sat round +the hall fire after rear-supper. "My leave, an' I remember rightly, +shall end this week next but one. I must look shortly to be on my way +to London. What say you touching these little matters?" + +"What little matters, Jack?" inquired his father. + +"These bills, Sir." + +"I cry thee mercy," said Sir Thomas dryly. "I counted those great +matters." + +"Forsooth, no, Sir! There be few gentlemen in the Court that do owe so +little as I." + +"The Court must be a rare ill place, belike." + +"My good Sir!" said Jack condescendingly, "suffer me to say that you, +dwelling hereaway in the country, really can form no fantasy of the +manner of dwellers in the town. Of course, aught should serve here that +were decent and comely. But in the Court 'tis right needful that +fashion be observed. Go to!--these chairs we sit on, I dare say, have +been here these fifty years or more?" + +"As long as I mind, Jack," said his father; "and that is somewhat over +fifty years." + +"Truly, Sir. Now, no such a thing could not be done in the Court. A +chair that is ten years old is there fit for nought; a glass of five +years may not be set on board; and a gown you have worn one year must be +cast aside, whether it be done or no. The fashion choppeth and changeth +all one with the moon; nor can a gentleman wear aught that is not the +newest of his sort. Sir, the Queen's Highness carrieth ne'er a gown two +seasons, nor never rippeth--all hang by the walls." + +It was the custom at that time to pull handsome dresses in pieces, and +use the materials for something else; but if a dress were not worth the +unpicking, it was hung up and left to its fate. Queen Elizabeth kept +all hers "by the walls;" she never gave a dress, and never took one in +pieces. + +"Gentility, son--at least thy gentility--is costly matter," remarked Sir +Thomas. + +"Good lack, Sir! You speak as though I had been an ill husband!" [an +extravagant man] cried Jack in an injured tone. "Look you, a gentleman +must have his raiment decent--" + +"Three cloth suits, six shirts, and six pair of stockings should serve +for that, Jack, nor cost above twenty pound the year, and that free +reckoned," [a very handsome allowance] put in Aunt Rachel. + +"Six shirts, my dear Aunt!--and six pair of stockings!" laughed Jack. +"Why, 'twere not one the day." + +"Two a-week is enow for any man--without he be a chimney-sweep," said +Aunt Rachel oracularly. + +This idea evidently amused Jack greatly. + +"'Tis in very deed as I said but now: you have no fantasy hereaway of +the necessities of a man that is in the Court. He must needs have his +broidered shirts, his Italian ruff, well-set, broidered, and starched; +his long-breasted French doublet, well bombasted [padded]; his hose,-- +either French, Gally, or Venetian; his corked Flemish shoes of white +leather; his paned [slashed and puffed with another colour or material] +velvet breeches, guarded with golden lace; his satin cloak, well +broidered and laced; his coats of fine cloth, some forty shillings the +yard; his long, furred gown of Lukes' [Lucca] velvet; his muff, Spanish +hat, Toledo rapier; his golden and jewelled ear-rings; his stays--" + +A few ejaculations, such as "Good lack!" and "Well-a-day!" had been +audible from Aunt Rachel as the list proceeded; but Sir Thomas kept +silence until the mention of this last article, which was in his eyes a +purely feminine item of apparel. + +"Nay, Jack, nay, now! Be the men turning women in the Court?" + +"And the women turning men, belike," added Rachel. "The twain do +oft-times go together." + +"My good Sir!" returned Jack, with amused condescension. "How shall a +gentleman go about a sorry figure, more than a gentlewoman?" + +"Marry come up!" interposed Rachel. "If the gentleman thou hast scarce +finished busking be not a sorry figure, I ne'er did see the like." + +"Stays, ear-rings, muffs!" repeated Sir Thomas under his breath. +"Belike a fan, too, Jack?--and a pomander?--and masks?--and gloves?" + +"Gloves, without doubt, sir; and they of fair white Spanish leather, +wrought with silk. Masks, but rarely; nor neither fans nor pomanders." + +"Not yet, I reckon. Dear heart! what will the idle young gallants be +a-running after the next? We shall have them twisting rats' tails in +their hair, or riding in coaches." + +"I ensure you, Sir, many gentlemen do even now ride in coaches. 'Tis +said the Queen somewhat misliketh the same." + +"Dear heart!" said Sir Thomas again. + +"And now, Sir, you can well see all these must needs be had--" + +"Beshrew me, Jack, if I see aught of the sort!" + +"All I see," retorted Rachel, "is, if they be had, they must be paid +for." + +"Nay, worry not the lad thus!" was softly breathed from Lady Enville's +corner. "If other gentlemen wear such gear, Jack must needs have the +same also. You would not have him mean and sorry?" [shabby.] + +"Thou wouldst have him a scarlet and yellow popinjay!" said Rachel. + +"I would not have him mean, Orige," replied Sir Thomas significantly. + +"Well, Sir,--all said, we come to this," resumed Jack in his airy +manner. "If these bills must needs be paid--and so seem you to say--how +shall it be? Must I essay for the monopoly?--or for a wardship?--or for +an heir?--or shall I rather trust to my luck at the dice?" + +"Buy aught but a living woman!" said Rachel, with much disgust. + +"The woman is nought, Aunt. 'Tis her fortune." + +"Very good. I reckon she will say, `The man is naught.' And she'll +speak truth." + +Rachel was playing, as many did in her day, on the similarity of sound +between "nought," nothing, and "naught," good-for-nothing. + +"Like enough," said Jack placidly. + +"I will spare thee what money I can, Jack," said his father sighing. +"But I do thee to wit that 'twill not pay thy debt--no, or the half +thereof. For the rest, I must leave thee to find thine own means: but, +Jack!--let them be such means that an honest man and true need not be +'shamed thereof." + +"Oh!--of course, sir," said Jack lightly. + +"Jack Feversham!" asked Sir Thomas, turning suddenly to his young +visitor, "supposing this debt were thine, how shouldst thou pay it?" + +"God forbid it were!" answered Feversham gravely. "But an' it were, +sir, I would pay the same." + +"At the dice?" grimly inquired Rachel. + +"I never game, my mistress." + +"A monopoly?" pursued she. + +"I am little like to win one," said Feversham laughingly. + +"Or by wedding of an heir?" + +"For the sake of her money? Nay, I would think I did her lesser ill of +the twain to put my hand in her pocket and steal it." + +"Then, whereby?" asked Sir Thomas, anxious to draw John out. + +"By honest work, Sir, whatso I might win: yea, though it were the +meanest that is, and should take my life to the work." + +"Making of bricks?" sneered Jack. + +"I would not choose that," replied Feversham quietly. "But if I could +earn money in no daintier fashion, I would do it." + +"I despise mean-spirited loons!" muttered Jack, addressing himself to +the fire. + +"So doth not God, my son," said his father quietly. + +Blanche felt uncertain whether she did or not. In fact, the state of +Blanche's mind just then was chaos. She thought sometimes there must be +two of her, each intent upon pursuing a direction opposite to that of +the other. Blanche was in the state termed in the Hebrew Old Testament, +"an heart and an heart." She wished to serve God, but she also wanted +to please herself. She was under the impression--(how many share it +with her!)--that religion meant just two things--giving up everything +that one liked, and doing everything that one disliked. She did not +realise that what it really does mean is a change in the liking. But at +present she was ready to accept Christ's salvation from punishment, if +only she might dispense with the good works which God had prepared for +her to walk in. + +And when the heart is thus divided between God and self, it will be +found as a rule that, in all perplexities which have to be decided, self +carries the day. + +The only result of the struggle in Blanche's mind which was apparent to +those around her was that she was very cross and disagreeable. He who +is dissatisfied with himself can never be pleased with other people. + +Ah, how little we all know--how little we can know, as regards one +another--of the working of that internal kingdom which is in every man's +breast! A woman's heart may be crushed to death within her, and those +who habitually talk and eat and dwell with her may only suppose that she +has a headache. + +And those around Blanche entirely misunderstood her. Lady Enville +thought she was fretting over her crossed love, and lavished endless +pity and petting upon her. Clare only saw, in a vague kind of way, that +something was the matter with her sister which she could not understand, +and let her alone. Her Aunt Rachel treated her to divers acidulated +lectures upon the ingratitude of her behaviour, and the intensity with +which she ought to be ashamed of herself. None of these courses of +treatment was exactly what Blanche needed; but perhaps the nipping north +wind of Aunt Rachel was better than the dead calm of Clare, and far +superior to the soft summer breeze of Lady Enville. + +It was a bright, crisp, winter day. The pond in the grounds at Enville +Court was frozen over, and Jack, declaring that no consideration should +baulk him of a slide, had gone down to it for that purpose. John +Feversham followed more deliberately; and a little later, Clare and +Blanche sauntered down in the same direction. They found the two Johns +sliding on the pond, and old Abel, the head gardener, earnestly adjuring +Master Jack to keep off the south end of it. + +"Th' ice is good enough at this end; but 'tis a deal too thin o'er yon. +You'd best have a care, of you'll be in ere you know aught about it." + +"Thou go learn thy gra'mmer!" [teach thy grandmother] said Jack +scornfully. "Hallo, maids! Come on the ice--'tis as jolly as a play." + +Clare smilingly declined, but Blanche stepped on the ice, aided by +Jack's hand, and was soon sliding away as lithely and merrily as +himself. + +"Ay me! yonder goeth the dinner bell," said Blanche at last. "Help me +back on the bank, Jack; I must away." + +"Butter the dinner bell!" responded Jack. "Once more--one grand slide, +Snowdrop." + +This had been Jack's pet name for his youngest sister in childhood, and +he used it now when he was in a particularly good temper. + +"Master! Master! yo're comin' too near th' thin!" shouted old Abel. + +Jack and Blanche, executing their final and most superb slide, heard or +cared not. They came flying along the pond,--when all at once there was +a shriek of horror, and Jack--who was not able to stop himself--finished +the slide alone. Blanche had disappeared. Near the south end of the +great pond was a round jagged hole in the ice, showing where she had +gone down. + +"Hold her up, Master, quick!" cried old Abel. "Dunnot let her be sucked +under, as what happens! Creep along to th' edge, and lay you down; and +when hoo comes to th' top, catch her by her gown, or her hure [hair], or +aught as 'll hold. I'll get ye help as soon as I can;" and as fast as +his limbs would carry him, Abel hurried away. + +Jack did not move. + +"I shall be drowned! I can't swim!" he murmured, with white lips, "I +would sure go in likewise." + +Neither he nor Clare saw in the first moment of shocked excitement that +somebody else had been quicker and braver than they. + +"I have her!" said John Feversham's voice, just a little less calm than +usual. "I think I can keep her head above water till help cometh. Jack +Enville, fetch a rope or a plank--quick!" + +They saw then that Feversham was lying on his face on the ice, and +holding firmly to Blanche by her fair hair, thus bringing her face above +the water. + +"O Jack, Jack!" cried Clare in an agony. "Where is a rope or plank?" + +Even in that moment, Jack was pre-eminently a gentleman--in his own +sense of the term. + +"How should I know? I am no serving-man." + +Clare dashed off towards the house without another word. She met Sir +Thomas at the garden gate, hastening out to ascertain the meaning of the +screams which had been heard. + +"Father!--a rope--a plank!" she panted breathlessly. "Oh, help! +Blanche is drowning!" + +Before Clare's sentence was gasped out, Sim and Dick ran past, the one +with a plank, the other with a coil of rope, sent by Abel to the rescue. +Sir Thomas followed them at his utmost speed. + +The sight which met his eyes at the pond, had it been less serious, +would have been ludicrous. Feversham still lay on the ice, grasping +Blanche, who was white and motionless; while Jack, standing in perfect +safety on the bank, was favouring the hero with sundry scraps of cheap +advice. + +"Hasten!" said Feversham in a low, constrained voice, when he heard help +coming. "I am wellnigh spent." + +Sir Thomas was really angry with his son. A few words of withering +scorn made that young gentleman--afraid of his father for the first +time--assist with his own courtly hands in pushing the plank across the +ice. + +The relief reached those endangered just in time. + +Blanche was carried home in her father's arms, and delivered to Rachel +to be nursed; while Feversham, the moment that he recognised himself to +be no longer responsible for her safety, fainted where he lay. He was +borne to the house by Sim and Dick--Master Jack following in a leisurely +manner, with his gentlemanly hands in his pockets. + +When all was safely over, Sir Thomas put his hand on Jack's shoulder. +For the first time that the father could remember, the son looked +slightly abashed. + +"Jack, which was the coward?" + +And Jack failed to answer. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +John Feversham joined the party again at supper. He looked very pale, +but otherwise maintained his usual imperturbable demeanour, though +scarcely seeming to like the expressions of admiration which were +showered upon him. + +"Metrusteth, Jack," said Rachel cuttingly to her nephew, "next time thou +wilt do thy best not to mistake a hero for a coward. I should not +marvel, trow, if the child's going on yon ice were some mischievous work +of thine." + +"'Twas a gallant deed, in very sooth, Master Feversham,--without you can +swim," said Lady Enville faintly. She had gone into hysterics on +hearing of the accident, and considered herself deserving of the deepest +commiseration for her sufferings. "I am thankful Blanche wear but her +camlet." + +"Canst thou swim, lad?" asked Sir Thomas of John. + +"No," he answered quietly. + +"Were you not afeared, Master Feversham?" said Rachel. + +"Ay, a little--lest I should be full spent ere help could come. But for +that I trusted God. For aught else--nay: it was no time to think +thereof." + +"Methinks, Jack Feversham," said Sir Thomas affectionately, "none shall +call thee a coward any more." + +Feversham smiled back in answer. + +"Sir Thomas," he said, "I fear God, and I love her. This was God's +work, and her great peril. How could I have held back?" + +Sir Thomas glanced at his son; but Jack was twirling his moustache, and +intently contemplating one of the stags' heads which decorated the hall. + +After that day, there was a great change in Blanche Enville. She had +come so near death, and that so suddenly, that she was sobered and +softened. God in His mercy opened her eyes, and she began to ask +herself,--What is the world worth? What, after all, is anything worth, +except to please God, and win His blessing, and inherit His glory? + +Her opinion was changed, too, as it respected John Feversham. There was +no possibility of mistaking him for a coward any longer. And whatever +he had been, she could scarcely have failed to cherish some kindly +feeling towards the man who had risked his life for hers. + +The two Johns left Enville Court together on the following Tuesday. And +after reaching London, Jack began to write letters home pretty +regularly, for that time,--always gay, airy, and sanguine. + +Jack's first letter conveyed the information that he was absolutely +certain of obtaining the monopoly. Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir +Walter Raleigh had both promised their interest, and any thought of +failure after that was quite out of the question. + +The second letter brought the news that Sir Christopher was very +ill--(in fact, he was dying)--and that, by some unfortunate mistake +(with Jack, any want of capacity to see his immense value, was always a +mistake), the monopoly had been granted to young Philip Hoby. But there +was no reason for disappointment. Jack had had an unusual run of good +luck that week at the gaming-table. It was quite Providential. For +Jack, like some other gentlemen of his day, dealt largely in religious +phrases, and did not trouble himself about religion in any other way. + +The third letter stated that Jack had not been able to obtain the grant +of a wardship. That was another unfortunate mistake. But his good luck +as a gamester still kept up, and my Lord of 'Bergavenny was his very +good lord. These items, also, were most Providential. + +The fourth letter informed his father that all his difficulties were at +last surmounted. Providence had rewarded his merits as they deserved. +He was on the eve of marriage. + +"To whom?" asked Lady Enville, with languid curiosity. + +"To seven thousand pounds," said Sir Thomas dryly; "that is as much as I +can make out of the lad's letter." + +The fifth epistle condescended to rather mere detail. Jack's _fiancee_ +was the daughter of an Earl, and the niece by marriage of a Viscount. +She had a fortune of seven thousand pounds--that was the cream and +chorus of the whole. But still it did not apparently occur to Jack that +his friends at home might be interested to know the name of his beloved. + +"What must we call her?" asked Blanche. "We know not her name." + +"And we cannot say `Mistress Jack,' sith she hath a title," added Sir +Thomas. + +"`My Lady Jack,'" laughingly suggested Rachel. + +And "Lady Jack" the bride was dubbed from that day forth. + +The sixth letter was longer in coming. But when it came it was short +and sweet. Jack's nuptials were to be solemnised on the following day, +and he and his bride would start three days later for Enville Court. +There was a general flutter through the family. + +"Dear heart! how was Jack donned? I would give a broad shilling to +know!" said Rachel satirically. "In white satin, trow, at the very +least, with a mighty great F on his back, wrought in rubies." + +"F, Aunt Rachel!" repeated Blanche innocently. "You mean E, surely. +What should F spell?" + +"Thou canst spell aught thou wilt therewith, child," said Rachel coolly, +as she left the room. + +"Sir Thomas, I pray you of money," said Lady Enville, rousing up. "We +have nought fit to show." + +Sir Thomas glanced at his wife's flowing satin dress, trimmed with +costly lace, and, like an unreasonable man, opined that it was quite +good enough for anything; "This!" exclaimed Lady Enville. "Surely you +cannot mean it, Sir Thomas. This gown is all rags, and hath been made +these four years." + +Sir Thomas contemplated the dress again, with a rather puzzled face. + +"I see not a patch thereon, Orige. Prithee, be all thy gowns rags?--and +be Clare and Blanche in rags likewise?" + +"Of course--not fit to show," said the lady. + +"It seemeth me, Orige, thou shouldst have had money aforetime. Yet I +cannot wholly conceive it,--we went not to church in rags this last +Sunday, without somewhat ail mine eyes. If we be going thus the next, +prithee lay out in time to avoid the same." + +"Gramercy, Sir Thomas!--how do you talk!" + +"Rachel," said her brother, as she entered, "how many new gowns dost +thou need to show my Lady Jack?" + +"I lack no new gowns, I thank thee, Tom. I set a new dowlas lining in +my camlet but this last week. I would be glad of an hood, 'tis true, +for mine is well worn; but that is all I need, and a mark [13 shillings +and 4 pence] shall serve me." + +"Then thy charges be less than Orige, for she ensureth me that all her +gowns be but rags, and so be Clare's, and the like by Blanche." + +"Lack-a-daisy!" cried Rachel. "Call me an Anabaptist, if she hath not +in her coffers two velvet gowns, and a satin, and a kersey, and three +camlets--to say nought of velvet kirtles and other habiliments!" + +"My dear Rachel!--not one made this year!" + +"My satin gown was made six years gone, Orige; and this that I bear +seven; and my camlet--well-a-day!--it may be ten." + +"They be not fit to sweep the house in." + +"Marry come up!--Prithee, Tom, set Orige up in tinsel. But for Clare +and Blanche, leave me see to them. Clare hath one gown was made this +year--" + +"A beggarly say!" [a coarse kind of silk, often used for curtains and +covering furniture] put in Lady Enville. + +"And Blanche hath one a-making." + +"A sorry kersey of twenty pence the yard!" + +"Orige, prithee talk no liker a fool than thou canst help. Our gowns be +right and--decent, according to our degree. We be but common folks, +woman! For me, I go not about to prink [make smart and showy] me in +cloth of gold,--not though Jack should wed all the countesses in +England. If she love not me by reason of my gowns, she may hold me off +with the andirons. I can do without her." + +And away marched Rachel in high dudgeon. "It is too bad of Rachel!" +moaned Lady Enville, lifting her handkerchief to tearless eyes. "I +would have nought but to be decent and fit for our degree, and not to +shame us in the eyes of her that hath been in the Court. I was ne'er +one to cast money right and left. If I had but a new velvet gown, and a +fair kirtle of laced satin, and a good kersey for every day, and an +hood, and a partlet or twain of broidered work, and two or three other +small matters, I would ask no more. Rachel would fain don us all like +scullery-maids!" + +Sir Thomas hated to see a woman weep; and above all, his wife--whom he +still loved, though he could no longer esteem her. + +"Come, Orige,--dry thine eyes," he said pityingly. + +He did not know, poor victim! that they required no drying. + +"Thou shalt have what thou wouldst. Tell me the sum thou lackest, and I +will spare it, though I cut timber therefor." + +Which was equivalent, in his eyes, to the very last and worst of all +honest resources for raising money. + +Lady Enville made a rapid calculation (with her handkerchief still at +her eyes), which ran much in this fashion:-- + ++========================================+======+ +YVelvet dress - at least 40; say Y45 0 0Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YSatin kirtle - about Y20 0 0Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YKersey dress Y3 10 0Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YHood, best Y 1 6 8Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YHood, second-rate Y 13 4Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YFrontlet Y 4 4Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YLawn for ruffs (embroidered at home) sayY 2 6Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YGloves, one dozen pairs, best quality Y 2 6Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YRibbon, 40 yards, various colours Y 13 4Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YMiscellaneous items, a good margin, say Y 9 7 4Y ++----------------------------------------+------+ +YWhich makes a total of Y80 0 0Y ++========================================+======+ + +Without removing the signal of distress, her Ladyship announced that the +small sum of 80 pounds would satisfy her need: a sum equivalent to about +1200 pounds in our day. Sir Thomas held his breath. But he knew that +unless he had courage authoritatively to deny the fair petitioner, +argument and entreaty would alike be thrown away upon her. And that +courage he was conscious he had not. + +"Very well, Orige," he said quietly; "thou shalt have it." + +But he ordered four fine oaks to be felled that evening. + +"Clare, what lackest thou in the matter of raiment?" he asked when he +met her alone. + +"If it liked your goodness to bestow on me a crown-piece, Father, I +would be very thankful," said Clare, blushing as if she thought herself +extravagant. "I do lack gloves and kerchiefs." + +"And what for thee, Blanche?" he asked in similar circumstances. + +Before Blanche's eyes for a moment floated the vision of a new satin +dress and velvet hood. The old Blanche would have asked for them +without scruple. But the new Blanche glanced at her father's face, and +saw that he looked grave and worried. + +"I thank you much, Father," she said. "There is nought I do really +lack, without it were three yards of blue ribbon for a girdle." + +This would cost about a shilling. Sir Thomas smiled, blessed her, and +put a crown-piece in her hand; and Blanche danced down-stairs in her +delight,--evoked less by the crown-piece than by the little victory over +herself. It was to her that for which a despot is recorded to have +longed in vain--a new pleasure. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +AFTER ALL. + + "For perhaps the dreaded future + Has less bitter than I think; + The Lord may sweeten the waters + Before I stoop to drink; + Or if Marah must be Marah, + He will stand beside the brink." + +All was ready for the reception of the newcomers. The hall at Enville +Court was gay with spring flowers, and fresh rushes were strewn over the +floor. Sir Thomas and Dick had gone so far as Kirkham to meet the +visitors. Lady Enville, attired in her new kersey, which had cost the +extravagant price of five shillings per yard, [Note 1] sat by the hall +fire. Rachel, in the objectionable camlet, which had been declared too +shabby to sweep the house in, stood near the door; while Clare and +Blanche, dressed in their Sunday costume, were moving about the hall, +giving little finishing touches to things as they saw them needed. + +"There be the horses!" said Blanche excitedly. + +She was very curious to see her new sister. + +In about ten minutes Sir Thomas entered, leading a masked lady by the +hand. Jack came lounging behind, his hands in his pockets, after his +usual fashion. + +"Our new daughter,--the Lady Gertrude Enville." [A fictitious person.] + +One glance, and Lady Enville almost fainted from pique. Lady Gertrude's +travelling costume was grander than her own very best new velvet. +Violet velvet, of the finest quality, slashed in all directions, and the +slashes filled with puffings of rich pale buff satin; yards upon yards +of the costliest white lace, literally strewn upon the dress: rich +embroidery upon the most delicate lawn, edged with deep lace, forming +the ruff; a hood of black velvet, decorated with pearls and gold +passementerie; white leather shoes, wrought with gold; long worked +gloves of thick white kid,--muff, fan, mask--all complete. As the bride +came up the hall, she removed her mask, and showed a long pale face, +with an unpleasant expression. Her apparent age was about thirty. + +"Give you good even, Madam!" she said, in a high shrill voice--not one +of those which are proverbially "an excellent thing in woman." + +"These be your waiting gentlewomen?" + +"These are my daughters," said Lady Enville--stiffly, for her; the +mistake had decidedly annoyed her. + +"Ah!" And the bride kissed them. Then turning to Rachel,--"This, I +account, is the lady mistress?" + +("That camlet!" said Lady Enville to herself, deeply vexed.) + +Sir Thomas introduced her gravely,--"My sister." + +Lady Gertrude's bold dark eyes scanned Rachel with an air of contempt. +Rachel, on her part, quite reciprocated the feeling. + +"You see, Niece, we keep our velvets for Sundays hereaway," she said in +her dry way. + +The bride answered by an affected little laugh, a kiss, and a +declaration that travelling ruined everything, and that she was not fit +to be seen. At a glance from Lady Enville, Clare offered to show +Gertrude to her chamber, and they went up-stairs together. Jack +strolled out towards the stable. + +"Not fit to be seen!" gasped poor Lady Enville. "Sir Thomas, what can +we do? In the stead of eighty pound, I should have laid out eight +hundred, to match her!" + +"Bear it, I reckon, my dear," said he quietly. + +"Make thy mind easy, Orige," scornfully answered Rachel. "I will lay my +new hood that her father made his fortune in some manner of craft, and +hath not been an Earl above these two years. Very ladies should not +deal as she doth." + +Meanwhile, above their heads, the bride was putting Clare through her +catechism. + +"One of you maidens is not in very deed Sir John's sister. Which is +it?" + +"_Sir_ John?" repeated Clare in surprise. + +"Of course. Think you I would have wedded a plain Master? I caused my +father to knight him first.--Which is it?" + +"That am I," said Clare. + +"Oh, you? Well, you be not o'er like him. But you look all like unto +common country folk that had never been in good company." + +Though Clare might be a common country girl, yet she was shocked by +Gertrude's rudeness. She had been brought up by Rachel to believe that +the quality of her dress was of less consequence than that of her +manners. Clare thought that if Gertrude were a fair sample of "good +company," she did not wish to mix in it. + +"I have been alway bred up in the Court," Gertrude went on, removing her +hood. "I never was away thence afore. Of course I do conceive that I +am descended to a lower point than heretofore--you have no coach, I dare +wager? yet I looked not to find my new kin donned in sorry camlet and +mean dowlas. Have you any waiting-maid?--or is that piece of civility +[civilisation] not yet crept up into this far corner of the world?" + +Clare summoned Jennet, and took her own seat in the further window. The +vulgar, purse-proud tone of Gertrude's remarks disgusted her +exceedingly. She did not enter into all of them. Simple Clare could +not see what keeping a carriage had to do with gentlemanliness. + +Jennet came in, and dropped a "lout" to the bride, whom she was disposed +to regard with great reverence as a real lady. At that time, "lady" was +restricted to women of title, the general designation being +"gentlewoman." + +"Here, woman!" was Gertrude's peremptory order. "Untwist my hair, and +dress it o'er again." + +Jennet quickly untwisted the hair, which was elaborately curled and +frizzed; and when it was reduced to smoothness, asked,--"What mun [must] +I do wi' 't?" + +"Eh?" said Gertrude. + +"I'm ill set [I find it difficult] to make thore twirls and twists," +explained Jennet. "Mun I curl 't, or ye'll ha' 't bred?" [Braided, +plaited.] + +"What means the jade?" demanded Gertrude with an oath. + +Clare was horrified. She had heard men swear when they were in a +passion, and one or two when they were not; but that a woman should +deliberately preface her words with oaths was something new and shocking +to her. Lady Enville's strongest adjurations were mild little +asseverations "by this fair daylight," or words no nearer profanity. +However, startled as she was, Clare came out of her corner to mediate. + +"How should it like you dressed?" + +"Oh! with the crisping-pins. 'Twill take as short time as any way." + +"Wi' whatten a thingcum?" [with what sort of a thing] stared Jennet. + +"I am afeared, Sister, we have no crisping-pins," said Clare. + +"No crisping-pins!" cried Gertrude, with another oath. "Verily, I might +have come to Barbary! Are you well assured?" + +"Be there any manner of irons, Jennet, for crisping or curling the +hair?" + +"Nay, Mistress Clare, we're Christians here," said Jennet in her coolest +manner, which was very cool indeed. "We known nought about French ways, +nor foreigners nother. [In Lancashire, strangers to the locality, if +only from the next county, are termed foreigners.] There's been no such +gear i' this house sin' I come--and that's eighteen year come Lady Day." + +"Good sonties! [Little saints!] do't as thou wilt," sneered Gertrude. +"I would I had brought all my gear withal. Whate'er possessed yon jade +Audrey to fall sick, that I was like to leave her behind at Chester!-- +Truly, I knew not what idiots I was coming amongst--very savages, that +wist not the usages of decent folk!" + +"Bi' th' mass!" [not yet obsolete] cried Jennet in burning wrath, +resorting to her strongest language, "but I'm no more an idiot nor thee, +my well-spoken dame,--nay, nor a savage nother. And afore I set up to +dress thy hure again, thou may ask me o' thy bended knees--nor I'll none +do't then, I warrant thee!" + +And setting down the brush with no light hand, away stalked Miss Jennet, +bristling with indignation. Gertrude called her back angrily in vain, +looked after her for a moment with parted lips, and then broke forth +into a torrent of mingled wrath and profanity. She averred that if one +of her fathers servants had thus spoken, she would have had her +horsewhipped within an inch of her life. Clare let her run on until she +cooled down a little, and then quietly answered that in that part of the +world the people were very independent; but if Gertrude would allow her, +she would try to dress her hair as well as she could. That it would be +of no use to ask Jennet again, Clare well knew; and she shrank from +exposing her dear old Barbara to the insolent vulgarity of Gertrude. + +"You may as well," said Gertrude coolly, and without a word of thanks. +"You be meet for little else, I dare say." + +And reseating herself before the mirror, she submitted her hair to +Clare's inexperienced handling. For a first attempt, however, the +result was tolerably satisfactory, though Clare had never before dressed +any hair but her own; and Gertrude showed her gratitude by merely +asserting, without anger or swearing, that she was right thankful no +ladies nor gentlemen should behold her thus disfigured, as she would not +for all the treasures of the Indies that they should. With this +delicate compliment to her new relatives, she rustled down into the +hall, Clare following meekly. Gertrude had not changed her dress; +perhaps she did not think it worth while to honour people who dressed in +say and camlet. Sir Thomas received her with scrupulous deference, set +her on his right hand, and paid all kindly attention to her comfort. +For some time, however, it appeared doubtful whether anything on the +supper-table was good enough for the exacting young lady. Those around +her came at last to the conclusion that Gertrude's protestations +required considerable discount; since, after declaring that she "had no +stomach," and "could not pick a lark's bones," she finished by eating +more than Clare and Blanche put together. Jack, meanwhile, was +attending to his own personal wants, and took no notice of his bride, +beyond a cynical remark now and then, to which Gertrude returned a sharp +answer. It was evident that no love was lost between them. + +As soon as supper was over, the bride went up to her own room, declaring +as she went that "if yon savage creature had the handling of her +gowns"--by which epithet Clare guessed that she meant Jennet--"there +would not be a rag left meet to put on"--and commanding, rather than +requesting, that Clare and Blanche would come and help her. Sir Thomas +looked surprised. + +"Be these the manners of the great?" said he, too low for Jack to hear. + +"Oh ay!" responded his wife, who was prepared to fall down at the feet +of her daughter-in-law, because she was _Lady_ Gertrude. "So commanding +is she!--as a very queen, I do protest. She hath no doubt been used to +great store of serving-maidens." + +"That maketh not our daughters serving-maids," said Sir Thomas in an +annoyed tone. + +"I would have thought her mother should have kept her in order," said +Rachel with acerbity. "If that woman were my daughter, she had need +look out." + +Rachel did not know that Gertrude had no mother, and had been allowed to +do just as she pleased ever since she was ten years old. + +Meanwhile, up-stairs, from trunk after trunk, under Gertrude's +directions--she did not help personally--Clare and Blanche were lifting +dresses in such quantities that Blanche wondered what they could have +cost, and innocent Clare imagined that their owner must have brought all +she expected to want for the term of her natural life. + +"There!" said Gertrude, when the last trunk which held dresses was +emptied. "How many be they? Count. Seventeen--only seventeen? What +hath yon lither hilding [wicked girl] Audrey been about? There should +be nineteen; twenty, counting that I bear. I would I might be hanged if +she hath not left out, my cramoisie! [crimson velvet!] the fairest gown +I have! And"--with an oath--"if she hath put in my blue taffata, +broidered with seed-pearl, I would I might serve as a kitchener!" + +Rachel walked in while Gertrude was speaking. + +"Surely you lack no more!" said Blanche. "Here be seven velvet gowns, +and four of satin!" + +"Enow for you, belike!" answered Gertrude, with a sneer. + +"Enow for any Christian woman, Niece, and at the least ten too many," +said Rachel severely. + +"Lack-a-daisy!--you have dwelt so long hereaway in this wilderness, you +wit not what lacketh for decency in apparel," returned Gertrude +irreverently, greatly scandalising both her sisters-in-law by her +disrespect to Aunt Rachel. "How should I make seventeen gowns serve for +a month?" + +"If you don a new every second day," said Rachel, "there shall be two +left over at the end thereof." + +Gertrude stared at her for a moment, then broke into loud laughter. + +"Good heart, if she think not they be all of a sort! Why, look you +here--this is a riding gown, and this a junketing gown, and this a +night-gown [evening dress]. Two left over, quotha!" + +"I would fain, Niece," said Rachel gravely, "you had paid as much note +unto the adorning of your soul as you have to that of your body. You +know 'tis writ--but may be 'tis not the fashion to read God's Word now +o' days?" + +"In church, of course," replied Gertrude. "Only Puritans read it out of +church." + +"You be no Puritan, trow?" + +"Gramercy! God defend me therefrom!" + +"Good lack! 'tis the first time I heard ever a woman--without she were a +black Papist--pray God defend her from reading of His Word. Well, +Niece, may be He will hear you. Howbeit, 'tis writ yonder that a meek +spirit and a quiet is of much worth in His sight. I count you left that +behind at Chester, with Audrey and the two gowns that lack?" [That are +wanting.] + +"I would you did not call me Niece!" responded Gertrude in a querulous +tone. "'Tis too-too [exceedingly] ancient. No parties of any sort do +now call as of old [Note 2],--`Sister,' or `Daughter,' or `Niece'." + +"Dear heart! Pray you, what would your Ladyship by your good-will be +called?" + +"Oh, Gertrude, for sure. 'Tis a decent name--not an ugsome [ugly] +old-fashioned, such as be Margaret, or Cicely, or Anne." + +"'Tis not old-fashioned, in good sooth," said Rachel satirically; "I +ne'er heard it afore, nor know I from what tongue it cometh. Then--as I +pick out of your talk--decent things be new-fangled?" + +"I want no mouldy old stuff!--There! Put the yellow silk on the lowest +shelf." + +"'Tis old-fashioned, I warrant you, to say to your sister, `An' it +please you'?" + +"And the murrey right above.--Oh, stuff!" + +The first half of the sentence was for Clare; the second for Rachel. + +"'Tis not ill stuff, Niece," said the latter coolly, as she left the +room. + +"And what thinkest of Gertrude?" inquired Sir Thomas of his sister, when +she rejoined him and Lady Enville. + +"Marry!" said Rachel in her dryest manner, "I think the goods be mighty +dear at the price." + +"I count," returned her brother, "that when Gertrude's gowns be paid +for, there shall not be much left over for Jack's debts." + +"Dear heart! you should have thought so, had you been above but now. To +see her Grace (for she carrieth her like a queen) a-counting of her +gowns, and a-cursing of her poor maid Audrey that two were left behind, +when seventeen be yet in her coffers!" + +"Seventeen!" repeated the Squire, in whose eyes that number was enough +to stock any reasonable woman for at least half her life. + +"Go to--seventeen!" echoed Rachel. + +"Well-a-day! What can the lass do with them all?" wondered Sir Thomas. + +"Dear hearts! Ye would not see an earl's daughter low and mean?" +interposed Lady Enville. + +"If this Gertrude be not so, Orige,--at the least in her heart,--then is +Jennet a false speaker, and mine ears have bewrayed me, belike. +Methinks a woman of good breeding might leave swearing and foul talk to +the men, and be none the worse for the same: nor see I good cause +wherefore she should order her sisters like so many Barbary slaves." + +"Ay so!--that marketh her high degree," said Lady Enville. + +"I wis not, Orige, how Gertrude gat her degree, nor her father afore +her," answered Rachel: "but this I will tell thee--that if one of the +`beggarly craftsmen' that Jack loveth to snort at, should allow him, +before me, in such talk as I have heard of her, I would call on Sim to +put him forth with no more ado. Take my word for it, she cometh of no +old nor honourable stock, but is of low degree in very truth, if the +truth were known." + +Rachel's instinct was right. Lady Gertrude's father was a _parvenu_, of +very mean extraction. Her great-uncle had made the family fortune, +partly in trade, but mostly by petty peculations; and her father, who +had attracted the Queen's eye when a young lawyer, had been rapidly +promoted through the minor grades of nobility, until he had reached his +present standing. Gertrude was not noble in respect of anything but her +title. + +Lady Enville, with a smile which was half amusement and half contempt, +rose and retired to her boudoir. Sir Thomas and Rachel sat still by the +hall fire, both deeply meditating: the former with his head thrown back, +gazing--without seeing them--at the shields painted on the ceiling; +while the latter leaned forward towards the fire, resting her chin on +both hands. + +"What saidst, Tom?" asked Rachel in a dreamy voice. + +"I spake not to know it, good Sister: but have what I said, an' thou so +wilt. I was thinking on that word of Paul--`Not many noble are called.' +I thought, Rachel, how far it were better to be amongst the called of +God, than to be of the noble." + +"'Tis not the first, time that I have thanked the Lord I am not noble," +said Rachel without changing her attitude. "'Tis some comfort to know +me not so high up that any shall be like to take thought to cut my head +off. And if Gertrude be noble--not to say"--Rachel's voice died away. +"Tom," she said in a moment later, "we have made some blunders in our +lives, thou and I." + +"I have, dear Rachel," said Sir Thomas sighing: "what thine may be I wis +not." + +"God knoweth!" she replied in a low voice. "And I know of one--the +grandest of all blunders. Thou settedst out for Heaven these few months +gone, Tom. May be thou shalt find more company on the road than thou +wert looking for." + +"Dear Rachel!" + +"Clare must be metely well on by this time," she continued in the dry +tone with which she often veiled her deepest feelings, "and Blanche is +tripping in at the gate, or I mistake. I would not by my goodwill have +thee lonely in the road, Tom: and I suppose--there shall be room for +more than two a-breast, no' will?" [Will there not?] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +During all this time, the once close intercourse between the Court and +the parsonage had been somewhat broken off. Arthur had never been in +the Squire's house since the day when Lucrece jilted him; and Clare was +shy of showing herself in his vicinity. Blanche visited Mrs Tremayne +occasionally, and sometimes Lysken paid a return visit; but very much +less was seen of all than in old times. When, therefore, it became +known at Enville Court that Arthur had received holy orders at the +Bishop's last ordination, the whole family as it were woke with a start +to the recollection that Arthur had almost passed out of their sphere. +He was to be his father's curate for the present--the future was +doubtful; but in an age when there were more livings than clergy to fill +them, no difficulty need be expected in the way of obtaining promotion. + +Just after Jack and Gertrude had returned to London (to the great relief +of every one, themselves not excepted), in his usual unannounced style, +Mr John Feversham made his appearance at Enville Court. Blanche +greeted him with a deep blush, for she felt ashamed of her former +unworthy estimate of his character. John brought one interesting piece +of news--that his uncle and aunt were well, and Lucrece was now the +mother of a little boy. + +Lady Enville looked up quickly. Then John was no longer the heir of +Feversham Hall. It might therefore be necessary--if he yet had any +foolish hopes--to put an extinguisher upon him. She rapidly decided +that she must issue private instructions to Sir Thomas. That gentleman, +she said to herself, really was so foolish--particularly of late, since +he had fallen into the pit of Puritanism--that if she did not look +sharply after him, he might actually dream of resigning his last and +fairest daughter to a penniless and prospectless suitor. If any such +idea existed in the mind of Sir Thomas, of John Feversham, or of +Blanche,--and since John had saved Blanche's life, it was not at all +unlikely,--it must be nipped in the bud. + +Accordingly, on the first opportunity, Lady Enville began. + +"Of course you see now, Sir Thomas, how ill a match Master John +Feversham should have been for Blanche." + +"Wherefore?" was the short answer. + +"Sith he is no longer the heir." [Sith and since are both contractions +of sithence.] + +"Oh!--ah!" said Sir Thomas, as unpromisingly as before. + +"Why, surely you would ne'er dream of so monstrous a thing?" + +Sir Thomas, who had been looking out of the window, came across to the +fire, and took up the master's position before it--standing just in the +middle of the hearth with his back to the fire. + +"Better wait, Orige, and see whereof John and Blanche be dreaming," said +he calmly. + +"What reckoneth he to do now, meet for livelihood?" + +It would be difficult to estimate the number of degrees by which poor +John had fallen in her Ladyship's thermometer, since he had ceased to be +the expected heir of Feversham Hall. + +"He looketh," said Sir Thomas absently, as if he were thinking of +something else, "to receive--if God's good pleasure be--holy orders." + +"A parson!" shrieked Lady Enville, in her languid style. + +"A parson, Orige. Hast aught against the same?" + +"Oh no!--so he come not anear Blanche." + +"Wilt hold him off with the fire-fork?" + +"Sir Thomas, I do beseech you, consider this matter in sober sadness. +Only think, if Blanche were to take in hand any fantasy for him, after +his saving of her!" + +"Well, Orige--what if so?" + +"I cannot bring you to a right mind, Sir Thomas!" said his wife +pettishly. "Blanche,--our fairest bud and last!--to be cast away on a +poor parson--she who might wed with a prince, and do him no disgrace! +It were horrible!" + +"Were it?" was the dry response. + +"I tell you," said Lady Enville, sitting up in her chair--always with +her a mark of agitation--"I would as soon see the child in her coffin!" + +"Hush, Orige, hush thee!" replied her husband, very seriously now. + +"It were as little grief, Sir Thomas! I would not for the world--nay, +not for the whole world--that Blanche should be thus lost. Why, she +might as well wed a fisherman at once!" + +"Well, the first Christian parsons were fishermen; and I dare be bound +they made not ill husbands. Yet methinks, Orige, if thou keptest thy +grief until the matter came to pass, it were less waste of power than +so." + +"`Forewarned is forearmed,' Sir Thomas. And I am marvellous afeared +lest you should be a fool." + +"Marry guep!" [probably a corruption of _go up_] ejaculated Rachel, +coming in. "`Satan rebuketh sin,' I have heard say, but I ne'er listed +him do it afore." + +After all, Lady Enville proved a true prophet. Mr John Feversham was +so obtuse, so unreasonable, so unpardonably preposterous, as to imagine +it possible that Blanche Enville might yet marry him, though he had the +prospect of a curacy, and had not the prospect of Feversham Hall. + +"I told you, Sir Thomas!" said the prophetess, in the tone with which +she might have greeted an earthquake. "Oh that you had listed me, and +gat him away hence ere more mischief were done!" + +"I see no mischief done, Orige," replied her husband quietly. "We will +call the child, and see what she saith." + +"I do beseech you, Sir Thomas, commit not this folly! Give your own +answer, and let it be, Nay. Why, Blanche may be no wiser than to say +him ay." + +"She no may," [she may not] said Sir Thomas dryly. + +But he was determined to tell her, despite the earnest protestations of +his wife, who dimly suspected that Blanche's opinion of John was not +what it had been, and was afraid that she would be so wanting in worldly +wisdom as to accept his offer. Lady Enville took her usual resource--an +injured tone and a handkerchief--while Sir Thomas sent for Blanche. + +Blanche, put on her trial, faltered--coloured--and, to her mother's deep +disgust, pleaded guilty of loving John Feversham at last. Lady Enville +shed some real tears over the demoralisation of her daughter's taste. + +"There is no manner of likeness, Blanche, betwixt this creature and Don +John," she urged. + +"Ay, mother, there is _no_ likeness," said Blanche calmly. + +"I thank Heaven for that mercy!" muttered Rachel. + +"Likeness!" repeated Sir Thomas. "Jack Feversham is worth fifty Don +Johns." + +"Dear heart! how is the child changed for the worser!" sobbed her +disappointed mother, who saw the coronet and fortune, on which she had +long set her heart for Blanche, fading away like a dissolving view. + +"Orige, be not a fool!" growled Rachel suddenly. "But, dear heart! I +am a fool to ask thee." + +There was a family tempest. But at last the minority succumbed; and +Blanche became the betrothed of John Feversham. + +From the day of Jack's departure from Enville Court with Gertrude, Sir +Thomas never heard another word of his debts. Whether Jack paid them, +or compounded for them, or let them alone, or how the matter was +settled, remained unknown at Enville Court. They only heard the most +flourishing accounts of everything connected with Jack and Gertrude. +They were always well; Jack was always prospering, and on the point of +promotion to a higher step of the social ladder. Sir Thomas declared +drily, that his only wonder was that Jack was not a duke by this time, +considering how many steps he must have advanced. But Lady Gertrude +never paid another visit to Enville Court; and nobody regretted it +except Jack's step-mother. Jack's own visits were few, and made at long +intervals. His language was always magniloquent and sanguine: but he +grew more and more reserved about his private affairs, he aged fast, and +his hair was grey at a time of life when his father's had been without a +silver thread. Sir Thomas was by no means satisfied with his son's +career: but Jack suavely evaded all inquiries, and he came to the +sorrowful conclusion that nothing could be done except to pray for him. + +It was late in the autumn, and the evening of Blanche's departure from +home after her marriage. John Feversham's clerical labours were to lie +in the north of Cheshire, so Blanche would not be far away, and might be +expected to visit at the Court more frequently than Lucrece or Jack. By +the bride's especial request, the whole family from the parsonage were +present at the ceremony, and Lysken was one of the bridesmaids. + +The guests had been dancing in the hall; they were now resting, standing +or sitting in small groups, and conversing,--when Clare stole out of the +garden-door, and made her way to the arbour. + +She could not exactly tell why she felt so sad. Of course, she was +sorry to lose Blanche. Such an occasion did not seem to Clare at all +proper for mirth and feasting: on the contrary, it felt the thing next +saddest to a funeral. They would see Blanche now and then, no doubt; +but she was lost to them on the whole: she would never again be, what +she had always been till now, one of themselves, an integral part of the +home. And they were growing fewer; only four left now, where there had +once been a household of eight. And Clare felt a little of the +sadness--felt much more deeply by some than others--of being, though +loved by several, yet first with none. Well, God had fixed her lot: and +it was a good one, she whispered to herself, as if to repel the sadness +gathering at her heart--it was a good one. She would always live at +home; she would grow old, ministering to father and mother and aunt-- +wanted and looked for by all three; not useless--far from it. And that +was a great deal. What if the Lord had not thought her meet for work in +His outer vineyard?--was not this little home-corner in His vineyard +still?--She was not a foundation-stone, not a cornice, not a pillar, in +the Church of God. Nay, she thought herself not even one of the stones +in the wall: only a bit of mortar, filling up a crevice. But the bit of +mortar was wanted, and was in its right place, because the Builder had +put it there. That was a great deal--oh yes, it was everything. + +"And yet," said Clare's heart,--"and yet!--" + +For this was not an unlabelled sorrow. Arthur Tremayne's name was +written all over it. And Clare had to keep her heart stayed on two +passages of Scripture, which she took as specially for her and those in +her position. It is true, they were written of men: but did not the +grammar say that the masculine included the feminine? If so, what right +had any one to suppose (as Lady Enville had once said flippantly) that +"there were no promises in the Bible to old maids?" + +Were there not these glorious two?--the one promise of the Old Covenant, +the one promise of the New. + +"Even unto them will I give in Mine house and within My walls a place +and a name better than of sons and of daughters; I will give them an +everlasting name, that shall not be cut off." [Isaiah sixteen verse 5.] + +"These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. These +were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruits unto God and to the +Lamb. And in their mouth was found no guile; for they are without fault +before the throne of God." [Revelations fourteen verses 4, 5.] + +So Clare was content. Yet it was a sorrowful sort of content, after +all--for Clare was human, too. + +She was absently pulling off some dead leaves from the arbour, and the +sudden jump which she gave showed how much she was startled. + +"May I come in, Clare?" asked a voice at the entrance. + +"Oh, ay--come in," said Clare, in a flutter, and trembling all over. + +"I did not mean to fright you," said Arthur, with a smile, as he came +inside and sat down. "I desired speech of you, on a matter whereof I +could not well touch save in private. Clare,--may I speak,--dear +Clare?" + +But of course, dear reader, you know all about it. + +So Clare was first with somebody, after all. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. A price which, about sixty years before, a vice-queen had +thought sufficient in presenting a new year's gift to Queen Anne Boleyn. +John Husee writes to his mistress, Honour Viscountess Lisle, in 1534, +that he has obtained the kersey for her gift to the Queen, eleven and a +quarter yards at 5 shillings the yard, "very fine and very white." +(Lisle Papers, twelve 90.) A few weeks later he writes, "The Queen's +grace liketh your kersey specially well." (Lisle Papers, eleven 112.) + +Note 2. The disuse of this custom in England really dates from a rather +later period. `Sister' has somewhat resumed its position, but +`Daughter' and `Niece,' in the vocative, are never heard amongst us now. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +"DIEU LA VOULU." + + "Over himself and his own heart's complaining + Victorious still." + +The bells were pealing merrily for the marriage of Clare Avery--I beg +her pardon--of Clare Tremayne; and the wedding party were seated at +breakfast in the great hall at Enville Court. + +"The bridesmaids be well-looking," said Lady Enville, behind her fan, to +Sir Piers Feversham, who was her next neighbour,--for Sir Piers and +Lucrece had come to the wedding--"and I do hear Mistress Penelope +Travis--she of them that is nearest--is like to be the next bride of our +vicinage." + +"Say you so?" responded Sir Piers. "I do desire all happiness be with +her. But there is one of yonder maids for whom in very deed I feel +compassion, and it is Mistress Lysken Barnevelt. Her May is well-nigh +over, and no bells be ringing for her. Poor maiden!" + +"Go to, now, what dolts be men!" quoth Mistress Rachel Enville, +addressing herself, to all appearance, to the dish of flummery which +stood before her. "They think, poor misconceiving companions! that we +be all a-dying for them. That's a man's notion. Moreover, they take it +that 'tis the one end and aim of every woman in the world to be wed. +That's a man's notion, again. And belike they fancy, poor patches! that +when she striketh thirty years on the bell, any woman will wed any man +that will but take compassion to ask her. That caps all their notions. +(Thou shalt right seldom hear a woman to make no such a blunder. They +know better.) Poor blockheads!--as if we could not be useful nor happy +without _them_! Lysken Barnevelt and Rachel Enville, at the least, be +not fools enough to think it." + +"Neither is the Queen's Majesty, my mistress," observed Sir Piers, +greatly amused. + +"Who e'er said the Queen's Majesty were a fool?" demanded Rachel +bluntly. "She is a woman, and no man--Heaven be praised for all His +mercies!" + +"Yet if no man were," pursued Sir Piers, "methinks you gentlewomen +should be but ill bestead." + +"Oh, should we so?" retorted Rachel. "Look you, women make no wars, nor +serve therein: nor women be no lawyers, to set folk by the ears: nor +women write not great tomes of controversy, wherein they curse the one +the other because Nell loveth a white gown, and Bess would have a black. +Is the Devil a woman? Answer me that, I pray you." + +"Do women make no wars?" laughed Sir Piers. "What! with Helen of Troy, +and--" + +"Good lack, my master!--and what ill had Helen's fair face wrought in +all this world, had there been no dolts of men to be beguilen thereby?" +was Rachel's instant response. + +Sir Piers made a hasty retreat from that part of the field. + +"But, my mistress, though the Devil be no woman, yet was the woman the +first to be deceived by him." + +"Like enough!" snapped Rachel. "She sinned not open-eyed, as did Adam. +She trusted a man-devil, like too many of her daughters sithence, and +she and they alike have found bitter cause to rue the day they did it." + +Sir Piers prudently discovered that Lady Enville was asking him a +question, and let Rachel alone thereafter. + +Ay, Lysken Barnevelt adopted from choice the life to which Clare had +been only willing to resign herself because she thought it was the +Father's will. It amused Lysken to hear people pity her as one who had +failed to win the woman's aim in life. To have failed to obtain what +she had never sought, and did not want, was in Lysken's eyes an easily +endurable affliction. The world was her home, while she passed through +it on her journey to the better Home: and all God's family were her +brethren or her children. The two sisters from Enville Court were both +happy and useful in their corners of the great harvest-field; but she +was the happiest, and the best loved, and when God called her the most +missed of all--this solitary Lysken. Distinguished by no unusual habit, +fettered by no unnatural vow, she went her quiet, peaceful, blessed +way--a nun of the Order of Providence, for ever. + +And what was the fate of Lady Enville? + +Just what is generally the fate of women of her type. They pass through +life making themselves vastly comfortable, and those around them vastly +uncomfortable, and then "depart without being desired." They are never +missed--otherwise than as a piece of furniture might be missed. To such +women the whole world is but a platform for the exhibition and +glorification of the Great Me: and the persons in it are units with whom +the Great Me deigns--or does not deign--to associate. Happy are those +few of them who awake, on this side of the dread tribunal, to the +knowledge that in reality this Great Me is a very little me indeed, yet +a soul that can be saved, and that may be lost. + +And Rachel?--Ah, Rachel was missed when she went on the inevitable +journey. The house was not the same without her. She had been like a +fresh breeze blowing through it,--perhaps a little sharp at times, but +always wholesome. Those among whom she had dwelt never realised all she +had been to them, nor all the love they had borne to her, until they +could tell her of it no more. + +The winter of 1602 had come, and on the ground in Devonshire the snow +lay deep. The trees, thickly planted all round Umberleigh, drooped with +the white weight; and a keen North wind groaned among the branches. All +was gloomy and chill outside. + +And inside, all was gloomy and mournful too, for a soul was in +departing. The ripe fruit that had tarried so late on the old tree, was +shaken down at last. Softly and tenderly, the Lady Elizabeth, the young +wife of Sir Robert Basset, was ministering to the last earthly needs of +Philippa the aged, the sister of her husband's grandfather. [Note 1.] + +"'Tis high time, Bess, child!" whispered the dying woman, true to her +character to the last. "I must have been due on the roll of Death these +thirty years. I began to marvel if he had forgot me. And I am going +Home, child. Thank God, I am going Home! + +"They are are all safe yonder, Bess--Arthur, and Nell [Wife of Sir +Arthur Basset], and little Honor, and thy little lad [Arthur, who died +in infancy], and Jack, and Frances--my darling sister!--and George, and +Kate, and Nan. I am assured of them, all. There be James and Mall,-- +well, I am not so sure of them. Would God I were! He knoweth. + +"But I do hope I shall see my mother. And, O Bess! I shall see him--my +blessed, beloved father--I _shall_ see him! + +"And they'll be glad, child. They'll all be glad when they see poor +blundering old Philippa come stumbling in at the gate. I misdoubt if +they look for it. They'll be glad! + +"Bess, I do hope thou wilt ne'er turn thy back upon God so many years as +I have done. And I had never turned to Him at last, if He had not +stooped and turned me. + +"Tell Robin, with my blessing, to be a whole man for God. A whole man +and a true! He is too rash--and yet not bold [true] enough. He cares +too much what other folk think. (Thank God, I ne'er fell in that trap! +'Tis an ill one to find the way out.) Do thou keep him steadfast, Bess. +He'll ask some keeping. There's work afore thee yet, child; 'tis work +worthy an angel--to keep one man steadfast for God. Thou must walk +close to God thyself to do it. And after all, 'twill be none of thy +doing, but of His that wrought by thee.-- + +"And God bless the childre! I count there's the making of a true man in +little Arthur. Thou mayest oft-times tell what a child is like to be +when he is but four years old. God bless him, and make him another +Arthur! (Nay, I stay me not at Robin's father, as thou dost. Another +Arthur,--like that dear father of ours, whom we so loved! He is _the_ +Arthur for me.) I can give the lad no better blessing. + +"Wilt draw the curtain, Bess? I feel as though I might sleep. Bless +thee, dear heart, for all thy tender ministering. And if I wake not +again, but go to God in sleep,--farewell, and Christ be with thee!" + +So she slept--and woke not again. + +Three months after the death of Philippa Basset, came another death-- +like hers, of an old woman full of years. The last of the Tudors passed +away from earth. Sir Robert Basset was free. To Stuart, or Seymour, or +Clifford, he "owed no subscription." King of England he would be _de +facto_, as _de jure_ he believed himself in his heart. + +And but for two obstacles in his way, it might have been Robert Basset +who seated himself on the seat of England's Elizabeth. For England was +much exercised as to who had really the right to her vacant throne. + +It was no longer a question of Salic law--a dispute whether a woman +could reign. That point, long undetermined, had been finally settled +fifty years before. + +Nor was it any longer a doubtful matter concerning the old law of +non-representation,--to which through centuries the English clung +tenaciously,--the law which asserted that if a son of the sovereign +predeceased his father, leaving issue, that issue was barred from the +succession, because the link which bound them to the throne was lost. +This had been "the custom of England" for at least three hundred years. +But, originally altered by the mere will of Edward the Third, the change +had now been confirmed by inevitable necessity, for when the Wars of the +Roses closed, links were lost in _all_ directions, and the custom of +England could no longer be upheld. + +The two obstacles in Robert Basset's way were the apathy of the +majority, and the strong contrary determination of the few who took an +interest in the question. + +The long reign of Elizabeth, and her personal popularity, had combined +to produce that apathy. Those who even dimly remembered the Wars of the +Roses, and whose sympathies were fervid for White or Red, had been long +dead when Elizabeth was gathered to her fathers. And to the new +generation, White and Red were alike; the popular interest in the +question was dead and buried also. + +But there was a little knot of men and women whose interest was alive, +and whose energies were awake. And all these sided with one candidate. +Sir Robert Cecil, the clever, wily son of the sagacious Burleigh,--Lord +Rich and his wife Penelope sister of the beheaded Earl of Essex,--Robert +Carey, a distant cousin of Queen Elizabeth through her mother,--his +sister, Lady Scrope, one of the Queen's suite--and a few more, were all +active in the interest of James the Sixth of Scotland, who was +undoubtedly the true heir, if that true heir were not Sir Robert Basset. + +In their way, too, there was an obstacle. And they were all intent on +getting rid of it. + +King Henry the Eighth had introduced into the complicated question of +the succession one further complication, which several of his +predecessors had tried to introduce in vain. The success of all, before +him, had been at best only temporary. It took a Tudor will to do the +deed, and it took an obsequious Tudor age to accept it. + +This new element was the pure will of the sovereign. Richard the First +had willed his crown to a nephew shut out by the law of +non-representation, and the attempt had failed to change the order of +succession. Edward the Third had in his life demanded the consent of +his nobility to a scheme exactly similar on behalf of his grandson, and +his plan had taken effect for twenty-three years, mainly on account of +the fact that the dispossessed heir, a protesting party in the first +case, had been a consenting party in the second. But one great element +in the success of Henry the Fourth was the return of the succession to +the old and beloved order. + +The principle on which Henry the Eighth had governed for nearly forty +years was his own despotic will. And it would appear that England liked +his strong hand upon the rein. He had little claim beyond his strong +hand and (so much as he had of) his "Right Divine." Having become +accustomed to obey this man's will for thirty-eight years, when that +will altered the order of succession after the deaths of his own +children, England placidly submitted to the prospective change. + +His son, Edward the Sixth, followed his father's example, and again +tried to alter the succession by will. But he had inherited only a +portion of his father's prestige. The party which would have followed +him was just the party which was not likely to struggle for its rights. +The order set up by Henry the Eighth prevailed over the change made by +Edward the Sixth. + +But when Elizabeth came to die, the prestige of Henry the Eighth had +faded, and it was to her personal decision that England looked for the +settlement of the long-vexed question. The little knot of persons who +wished to secure the King of Scots' accession, therefore, were intensely +anxious to obtain her assent to their project. + +The Delphic oracle remained obstinately silent. Neither grave +representations of necessity, nor coaxing, could induce her to open her +lips upon the subject; and as no living creature had ever taken +Elizabeth off her guard, there was no hope in that direction. The old +woman remembered too well the winter day, forty-five years before, when +the time-serving courtiers left the dying sister at Westminster, to pay +court to the living sister at Hatfield; and with the mixture of weakness +and shrewdness which characterised her, she refused to run the risk of +its repetition by any choice of a successor from the candidates for the +throne. + +There were five living persons who could set up a reasonable claim, of +whom four were descendants of Henry the Seventh. They were all a long +way from the starting-point. + +The first was the King of Scotland, son of Mary Queen of Scots, daughter +of James the Fifth, son of Princess Margaret of England, eldest daughter +of Henry the Seventh. + +The second was the Lady Arbella Stuart, the only child of Lord Charles +Stuart, son of Lady Margaret Douglas, daughter of the same Princess +Margaret. + +The third was Edward Seymour, son of Lady Katherine Grey, daughter of +Lady Frances Brandon, eldest daughter of Princess Mary, youngest +daughter of Henry the Seventh. + +The fourth was Lady Anne Stanley, eldest daughter of Ferdinand Earl of +Derby, son of Lady Margaret Clifford, only daughter of Lady Eleanor +Brandon, second daughter of the same Princess Mary. + +And the fifth was Sir Robert Basset of Umberleigh, son of Sir Arthur +Basset, son of Lady Frances Plantagenet, eldest daughter of Arthur Lord +Lisle, son of Edward the Fourth. + +Of these five, the one who would have inherited the Crown, under the +will of Henry the Eighth, was unquestionably Edward Seymour; and, Mary +and Elizabeth being both now dead, the reversion fell to him also under +that of Edward the Sixth. But, strange to say, he was not a formidable +opponent of James of Scotland. Queen Elizabeth had been so deeply +offended with his mother (Lady Katherine Grey, sister of the beheaded +Lady Jane) for making a love-match without her royal licence, that she +had immured both bride and bridegroom in the Tower for years. Perhaps +the prestige of Elizabeth's will remained potent, even after Elizabeth +was dead; perhaps Edward Seymour had no wish to occupy such a thorny +seat as the throne of England. Neither he nor Lady Anne Stanley set up +the faintest claim to the succession; though Seymour, at least, might +have done so with a decided show of justice, as the law of succession +then stood. By the two royal wills, King James of Scotland, and his +cousin, Lady Arbella Stuart, were entirely dispossessed; their claim had +to be made under the law as it had stood unaltered by the will of Henry +the Eighth. + +But there was one prior question, which, had it been settled in the +affirmative, would have finally disposed of all these four claims at +once. If the contract between Edward the Fourth and Elizabeth Lucy were +to be regarded as a legal marriage, then there could be no doubt who was +the true heir. Better than any claim of Stuart or Tudor, of Seymour or +Stanley, was then that of the Devonshire knight, Sir Robert Basset. For +fifteen hundred years, a contract had been held as legal marriage. The +vast estates of the Plantagenets of Kent had passed to the Holands on +the validity of a contract no better, and perhaps worse, than that of +Elizabeth Lucy. [Note 2.] Why was this contract to be set aside? + +Had England at large been less apathetic, or had the little knot of +agitators been less politic, a civil war might have been reasonably +anticipated. But the intriguers were determined that James of Scotland +should succeed; and James himself, aware of the flaw in his title, was +busily working with them to the same end. Cecil, Lady Rich, Lady +Scrope, and Carey, were all pledged to let him know the exact moment of +the Queen's, decease, that he might set out for England at once. + +All was gloom and suspense in the chamber of Richmond Palace, where the +great Queen of England lay dying. Her ladies and courtiers urged her to +take more nourishment,--she refused. They urged her to go to bed,--she +refused. She would be a queen to her last breath. No failure of bodily +strength could chill or tame the lion heart of Elizabeth. + +At last, very delicately, Cecil attempted to sound the dying Queen on +that subject of the succession, always hitherto forbidden. Her throat +was painful, and she spoke with difficulty: Cecil, as spokesman for her +Council, asked her to declare "whom she would have for King," offering +to name sundry persons, and requesting that. Her Majesty would hold up +her finger when he came to the name which satisfied her. To test the +vigour of her mind, he first named the King of France. + +Elizabeth did not stir. + +"The King's Majesty of Scotland?" + +There was no sign still. + +"My Lord Beauchamp?"--Edward Seymour, the heir according to the wills of +her father and brother. + +Then the royal lioness was roused. + +"I tell you," she said angrily, "I will have no rascal's son in my seat, +but a king's son." + +There was no king's son among the candidates but one, and that was James +of Scotland. + +Once more, when she was past speech, Elizabeth was asked if she wished +James to succeed her. She indicated her pleasure in a manner which some +modern writers have questioned, but which was well understood in her own +day. Lifting her clasped hands to her head, the dying Elizabeth made +them assume the form of a crown; and once more those around her knew +that she desired her successor to be a king. + +Tradition says that as soon as Elizabeth was dead, Lady Scrope dropped a +sapphire ring from the window--a preconcerted signal--to her brother, +Robert Carey, who was waiting below. Carey states that he was told in a +more matter-of-fact way--by a sentinel, whom he had previously requested +to bring him the news. + +That hour Carey set out: and except for one night's rest at Carlisle, he +spurred night and day till he stood before King James. There was a +sudden intimation--a hurried action taken--and the Stuarts were Kings of +England. + +The claims of the Lady Arabella were disposed of by making her a +companion to the new Queen, until she had the presumption to marry, and, +of all people, to marry the heir under King Henry the Eighth's will. +This was too much. She was imprisoned for life, and she died in her +prison, simply because she was her father's daughter and her husband's +wife. + +The claims of Lord Beauchamp and Lady Anne Stanley needed no disposal, +since they had both remained perfectly quiescent, and had put forth no +claim. + +But Robert Basset was not so easily managed. James knew that he was +capable of making the throne a very uncomfortable seat. And Basset, +with his usual rashness, had on the Queen's death dashed into the arena +and boldly asserted his right as the heir of Edward the Fourth. The +only way to dispose of him was by making him realise that the crown was +beyond his grasp; and that if he persevered, he would find the scaffold +and the axe within it. This was accordingly done so effectually that +weak, impulsive Basset quailed before the storm, and fled to France to +save his own life. He survived the accession of James the First for +seventeen years at least [Note 3]; but no more was heard of his right to +the throne of England. + +Forty years after the death of Elizabeth, the son of James of Scotland +was struggling for his crown, with half England against him. Five years +later, there was a scaffold set up at Whitehall, and the blood royal was +poured out. There were comparatively few who stood by King Charles to +the last. But there was one--who had headed charges at Marston Moor +"for God, and King, and Country"--who had bled under his banner at +Edgehill--who lived to welcome back his most unworthy son and successor, +and to see the monarchy re-established in the Stuart line. His name was +Arthur Basset. [He died January 7, 1672. See Prince's Worthies of +Devon.] + +Ay, there had been "the making of a true man" in Colonel Arthur Basset. +The fit representative of that earlier Arthur, he had adopted in his +life the motto which, a hundred and fifty years before, the son of +Edward the Fourth had embroidered on his banner--"_Dieu l'a voulu_." + +God had not written the name of Arthur Basset on the roll of the Kings +of England. And Arthur Basset bowed his noble head to the decree, and +fell back to the ranks like a hero--no king, but a true man. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. The date is fictitious. The Atherington register has been +vainly searched for the burial of Philippa Basset, and the Heanton +register is marked in the return "illegible." + +Note 2. The evidence in the earlier case (of Joan Plantagenet) seems to +have rested entirely on the oaths of husband and wife; in the latter (of +Elizabeth Lucy) the contract was known to the entire family of the +bridegroom. + +Note 3. Prince states that "in consequence of his pretensions to the +Crown, and of his extravagance," Sir Robert was obliged to sell Heanton +and Whitechapel, which last was the old seat of his family. If he did +sell Heanton, his son must have bought it back; for it was the family +residence in the year after Colonel Basset's death. Umberleigh had been +deserted for Heanton on account of the low, damp situation of the +former, and the thick trees which crowded round the house. + + + +APPENDIX. + +THE ARMADA. + +The strength of the Spanish fleet is differently represented by various +writers, whose accounts disagree to the wide extent of--ships, from 128 +to 176; men, from fourteen to twenty-nine thousand. I append the +tabulated statement given by Speed, which is neither the highest nor the +lowest, and is the carefully-prepared account of a generally accurate +compiler. + +Vessels:--Galliasses and gallions, 72; ships and hulkes, 47; pinnases +and carviles, 11:--130. + +Men:--Soldiers, 18,658; sailors, 8094; galley-slaves, 2088:--28,840. + +Munition:--Great ordnance, 2843; bullets, 220,000; powder, 4200 +quintals, each one hundredweight; lead for bullets, 1000 quintals, +ditto; matches, 1200 quintals; muskets and calivers, 7000; partizans and +halberts, 10,000; cannon and field pieces unnumbered. + +Provision:--Bread, biscuit, and wine laid in for six months; bacon, 6500 +quintals; cheese, 3000 quintals; fresh water, 12,000 pipes; flesh, rice, +beans, peas, oil, and vinegar, unestimated. + +General items:--Torches, lanterns, lamps, canvas, hides, lead to stop +leaks, whips, and knives. + +Army 32,000 strong, and cost 30,000 ducats every day; 124 noblemen on +board as volunteers. + +_Speed's Chronicle_, page 885. + +BASSET OF UMBERLEIGH. + +I think the following account of the Basset family will be more +convenient for reference than a number of explanatory notes interspersed +throughout the narrative, and will also avoid frequent repetition. +Owing to further research, it will be found fuller and more accurate +than the corresponding notes in _Isoult Barry_ and _Robin Tremayne_. + +Sir John Basset of Umberleigh, son of Sir John Basset and Joan Beaumont, +died January 31, 1528 (Inq. 20 Henry Eight 20). The "Heralds' +Visitations" appear to be mistaken in giving Sir John four wives. Jane +Beaumont, whom they call his second wife, was his mother: while +Elizabeth, the third wife, seems to be an imaginary person altogether. +He married:-- + +A. Anne, daughter of John Dennis of Oxleigh and Eleanor Giffard; widow +of Patrick Bellewe of Aldervescot; buried with husband in Atherington +Church, Devon. + +B. Honor, daughter of Sir Thomas Grenville of Stow and Isabel Gilbert; +born about 1498, married about 1515, died probably about 1548. Buried +in Atherington Church. [The burial register of this church previous to +1570 has perished.] She married, secondly, Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount +Lisle, son of Edward the Fourth and Elizabeth Lucy. + +Issue of Sir John Basset + +(A) by Anne Dennis:-- + +1. A son, whose only memorial is on the sepulchral brass of his parents +at Atherington probably died young. + +2. Anne, married Sir James Courtenay of Powderham. (Issue,--James, and +John.) + +3. Margery, (Harl. Ms. 1149, folio 13, b.) married Edward Marrays of +Marrays, Cornwall. (Issue,--Margaret, married George Rolle, Lady +Lisle's solicitor.) + +4. Jane, born about 1505; apparently died unmarried. + +5. Thomasine, born about 1512, died unmarried, March 19, 1535--(Lisle +Papers, Three 1.) + +(B) By Honor Grenville:-- + +6. Philippa, born about 1516; probably died unmarried. + +7. Katherine, born about 1518; married, after 1542, Sir Henry Ashley of +Ashley and Wimborne Saint Giles (Shaftesbury family); date of death not +known. (Issue,--Henry, and Edward, who probably died young.--Harl. Ms. +888, folio 40, b.) + +8. John, born October 26, 1519 (Inq. 20 Henry Eight 20); died Apr. 3, +1545 (Inq. 2 Philip and Mary, 10). Married Frances, eldest daughter of +Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle, by his first wife Elizabeth Grey; +married at Calais, February 17 to 22, 1538 (Lisle Papers, Eleven 40, +41); died about 1560. She married, secondly, Thomas Monke of +Potheridge, county Devon. + +9. Anne, born about 1520; Maid of Honour from 1537 (Lisle Papers, +Eleven 110) to 1554 (Tallies Roll, 2-3 Philip and Mary); married, +probably between July 7 and October 27, 1555, Sir Walter Hungerford of +Farleigh Castle, son of the last Lord Hungerford of Heytesbury; died +childless, probably in 1558-9. (Hungerford family papers). + +10. George, born about 1522, died in London, 1579. (Harl. Mss., 757, +folio 214; 760, folio 322.) Married Jaquit, daughter and heir of John +Coffyn of Portledge, county Devon. She married, secondly, Henry Jones. + +11. Mary, born about 1525, married at Atherington, June 9, 1557 +(Register), John Wollacombe of Combe, county Devon. (Issue,--John, +Thomas, and Honor.--Harl. Ms. 3288, folio 49.) + +12. James, born 1527 (Foxe's Acts and Monuments, Pratt's Townsend's +ed., Six 231), proctor of Bishop Gardiner, 1543 to 1555; Gentleman of +Chamber to Queen Mary, about 1556-8; died November 1558; buried Black +Friars' Church, London. ("Machyn's Diary," page 179.) Married Mary, +daughter of William Roper and Margaret his wife, daughter of Sir Thomas +More. + +Issue of John Basset and Frances Plantagenet:-- + +1. Honor, born at Calais, about May 10, 1539 (Lisle Papers, One 72; +Eleven 97; Twelve 85), probably died young. + +2. Sir Arthur, born 1540 (Inq. 1 March--2 Philip and Mary, 10), +probably at Calais; died of gaol fever, caught at the Black Assize, +Exeter (Stow's "Chronicle," page 719), April 2, 1586 (Epitaph); buried +at Atherington, April 7 (Register). Married Eleanor, daughter of John +Chichester of Raleigh, county Devon, and Gertrude Courtenay of +Powderham; buried at Atherington, July 8, 1585 (Register). + +Issue of Sir Arthur Basset and Eleanor Chichester:-- + +1. Sir Robert, born 1574 (Matriculation Books, Queen's College, +Oxford); living 1620 (Anderson's. "Royal Genealogies," page 745). +Claimed the Crown on death of Queen Elizabeth, as legal descendant of +Edward the Fourth. He married Elizabeth, daughter and coh. of Sir +William Periam, Judge of the King's Bench; married November 21, 1591 +(Register of Saint Dunstan in the West, London); died 1633. + +2. Anne, married after 1585 Sir John Chichester of Hall, county Devon; +died 1665; buried at Marwood. (Left issue.) + +3. Margaret, under ten years old in 1585 (Will of Sir A. Basset). + +4. Arthur, under fourteen years old in 1585 (Will of Sir A. Basset). + +5. William, born 1583 (Matriculation Books, University College, +Oxford). + +6. Francis, baptised at Atherington, May 8, 1584 (Register). + +7. John, baptised at Atherington June 1, 1585 (Register). + +Issue of Sir Robert Basset and Elizabeth Feriam:-- + +1. Arthur, baptised June 6, 1593 (Register of Saint Dunstan in the +West, London); buried February 3, 1595 (Register of Saint Bartholemew +the Less, London). + +2. Anne, baptised October 16, 1594 (Register of Saint Bartholemew the +Less, London); married Jonathan Rashley of Fox (Harl. Mss. 1091, folio +122; 1538, folio 280). + +3. Ellen, married George Yeo of Hushe (Harl. Mss. 1091, folio 122; +1538, folio 280). + +4. Arthur, born at Heanton (Prince's "Worthies of Devon," page 113), +1598 (ibidem, Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 343, b.); Colonel in King Charles's +army; died January 7, 1672; buried at Heanton (Prince, page 116). +Married Anne, daughter of William Leigh of Burrow, county Devon. + +5. Eleanor (Harl. Ms. 1091, folio 122). + +6. Mary (Harl. Ms. 1091, folio 122). + +7. William, born March 28, 1602-3 (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 343, b.; +Matriculation Books, Exeter College, Oxford). + +Issue of Colonel Basset and Anne:-- + +1. John, of Heanton, living [?] 1673. Married Susannah, daughter of +(unknown). + +2. Arthur, entered at Oriel College, Oxford, 1652, (Matriculation +Books.) + +3. Francis, entered at Oriel College, Oxford, 1652 (Matriculation +Books.) + +Issue of John Basset and Susannah:-- + +1. John, born February 26, 1653 (Atherington Register). + +2. Arthur, born 1656 (Matriculation Books, Exeter College, Oxford). + +3. Francis, born April 13, 1657 (Atherington Register). Married +(unknown), daughter of (unknown). + +Issue of Francis Basset and (unknown):-- + +John, born 1688 (Matriculation Books, Exeter College, Oxford). + +The male line of the Basset family died out with Francis Basset, +Esquire, in 1802; but the family estates remain in the hands of the +descendants of his eldest sister Eustachia, who married (Unknown) Davie +of Orleigh, and her posterity bear the name of Davie-Bassett. + +The Younger Branches of the Family:-- + +Issue of George Basset and Jaquit Coffyn:-- + +1. Mary, baptised December 11, 1558 (Atherington Register); probably +died young. + +2. John, baptised February 8, 1559 (Atherington Register), probably +died young. + +3. Katherine, baptised January 11, 1560 (Atherington Register). + +4. Blanche (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +5. James (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). Married Jane, daughter of Sir +Francis Godolphin and Margaret Killigrew (ibidem). + +Issue of James Basset and Jane Godolphin:-- + +1. Thomas (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +2. Sir Francis, of Tehiddy, Cornwall; born 1594 (Matriculation Books, +Exeter College, Oxford); knighted 1620 (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). +Married Anne, daughter of Jonathan Trelawney of Trelawney. + +3. Arthur (Harl, Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +4. Nicholas (Harl, Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +5. James, born 1602 (Matriculation Books, Exeter College, Oxford). + +6. Margery (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +7. Jane, married William Courtenay (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +8. Grace (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +9. Margaret (Harl. Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +Issue of James Basset and Mary Roper:-- + +Philip, appointed Receiver of Revenues in Suffolk and Cambridgeshire, +October 1, 1584 (Rot. Pat. 25 Elizabeth, Part 7). Married (unknown), +daughter of (unknown) Verney (Harl. Ms. 1091, folio 122). + +Issue:-- + +Two daughters, names and alliances unknown (Harl Ms. 1080, folio 344). + +I owe especial thanks to various persons who have most kindly helped me +in the elucidation of the above pedigree: in particular to Colonel +Chester, the Reverend G. Whitehead of Atherington, and Charles +Chichester, Esquire, of Hall. + +HOWARD OF EFFINGHAM, CHARLES, LORD HIGH ADMIRAL. + +The extracts which follow will show the reasons for the belief that Lord +Howard was a Protestant, possibly at the time of the Armada, and +certainly at a later period. + +1559. December 17.--He was an invited guest at the consecration of +Matthew Parker at Lambeth, as Archbishop of Canterbury, "and many years +after, by his testimony, confuted those lewd and loud lies which the +Papists tell of the Nag's Head in Cheapside."--(Fuller's "Worthies," +quoted in Notes and Queries, 1st S. Three, 244.) + +1604. February.--He was "at the head of a commission to discover and +expel all Catholic priests."--(Memorials of the Howard Family, quoted +ibidem, Three 309.--The quoter adds that Howard "was certainly a +Protestant in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.") + +1604. May [?] "Only we forewarn you that in the performance of these +ceremonies [ratification by King of Spain of treaty of peace with +England], which is likely to be done in the King's Chapel, you have +especial care that it be not done in the forenoon, in the time of Mass, +to the scandal of our religion, but rather in the afternoon, at what +time their service is more free from note of superstition."--(King James +the First to Lord Howard, then Earl of Nottingham and Ambassador to +Spain. Biographies Brit, page 2679; quoted in Notes and Queries, 1st +S., Three 244.) + +1604. "On Friday, the last of this Month, His Catholick Majesty +ratified the Peace upon Oath in a great chamber of the Palace... It was +pretended that the Clergy would not suffer this to be done in a Church +or Chapel where neglect of reverence of the Holy Sacrament should give +scandal."--(Collins' Peerage, Four 272, quoted ibidem.) + +[It may be urged that Lord Howard, as Ambassador of a Protestant King, +would feel himself obliged to act on behalf of his master, showing no +more nor less reverence than James would have done himself. But is it +at all likely that, had such been his wish, James would have selected +for this office a man who could not act according to the belief of his +master without committing sacrilege according to his own? The want of +reverence must have been expected from Lord Nottingham or his suite, for +there was no one else present who was not a devout Romanist]. + +1605. When Lord Monteagle delivered the anonymous letter winch revealed +the Gunpowder Plot to Lord Salisbury, the second person to whom the +latter confided the transaction was Lord Nottingham.--(Baker's +"Chronicle," page 508.) + +1605. He sat as one of the Commissioners for the trial of Garnet and +other conspirators, after the discovery of the Gunpowder +Plot--(Archaeologia, volume fifteen.) + +1613. He stood sponsor for the Countess of Salisbury's daughter. +(Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, 1611-1618, page 170; quoted in +Notes and Queries, 2nd S., Seven 364.) + +1623. May 20.--"John, son of Sir William Monson, is a dangerous Papist; +neither Garnet, Constable, nor Tobie Mathew is comparable to him. He +asserts openly that the King is a Papist at heart ... and delights in +striving to pervert people... Thinks it his duty, as Lieutenant of the +Shire, to inform against him."--(Lord Nottingham to Archbishop of +Canterbury, Calend. State Papers, Domestic, James the First; quoted +ibidem, Seven 405.) + +He married two Protestants; the first, a daughter of Henry Carey, Lord +Hunsdon; the second, of the "Bonnie" Earl of Moray. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clare Avery, by Emily Sarah Holt + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARE AVERY *** + +***** This file should be named 22942.txt or 22942.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/9/4/22942/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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