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diff --git a/21233.txt b/21233.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a8892e --- /dev/null +++ b/21233.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8163 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of All's Well, 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: All's Well + Alice's Victory + +Author: Emily Sarah Holt + +Illustrator: M. Lewin + +Release Date: April 27, 2007 [EBook #21233] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL'S WELL *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +All's Well +Alice's Victory + +By Emily Sarah Holt +________________________________________________________________________ +This book is set in the sixteenth century, at the beginning of the +Reformation. The action is in the Weald of Kent, a hugely forested area +that extended as far as Hampshire. The family at the centre of the +story had been converted to Protestantism, but still outwardly clung to +Catholicism. This meant that the local priest, through hearing +confessions, knew something of what was going on, and carried the +information to the Bishop. One of the younger women of the family had +been particularly advanced in her Protestant action and beliefs. She is +taken before the Bishop, and is condemned to jail, where she is very +badly treated, sleeping on straw, without change of clothing, and fed +only on bread and water. The place where she was kept was changed for +the better, after she had been brought for further interview before the +Bishop. But this was only because she was to be burnt alive, in the +manner of Holy Church of those days. + +A moving story that makes a good audiobook, of little more than 7 hours' +duration. NH +________________________________________________________________________ + +ALL'S WELL +ALICE'S VICTORY + +BY EMILY SARAH HOLT + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS. + +"Give you good-morrow, neighbour! Whither away with that great fardel +[Bundle], prithee?" + +"Truly, Mistress, home to Staplehurst, and the fardel holdeth broadcloth +for my lads' new jerkins." The speakers were two women, both on the +younger side of middle age, who met on the road between Staplehurst and +Cranbrook, the former coming towards Cranbrook and the latter from it. +They were in the midst of that rich and beautiful tract of country known +as the Weald of Kent, once the eastern part of the great Andredes Weald, +a vast forest which in Saxon days stretched from Kent to the border of +Hampshire. There was still, in 1556, much of the forest about the +Weald, and even yet it is a well-wooded part of the country, the oak +being its principal tree, though the beech sometimes grows to an +enormous size. Trees of the Weald were sent to Rome for the building of +Saint Peter's. + +"And how go matters with you, neighbour?" asked the first speaker, whose +name was Alice Benden. + +"Well, none so ill," was the reply. "My master's in full work, and +we've three of our lads at the cloth-works. We're none so bad off as +some." + +"I marvel how it shall go with Sens Bradbridge, poor soul! She'll be +bad off enough, or I err greatly." + +"Why, how so, trow? I've not heard what ails her." + +"Dear heart! then you know not poor Benedict is departed?" + +"Eh, you never mean it!" exclaimed the bundle-bearer, evidently shocked. +"Why, I reckoned he'd taken a fine turn toward recovery. Well, be +sure! Ay, poor Sens, I'm sorry for her." + +"Two little maids, neither old enough to earn a penny, and she a +stranger in the town, pretty nigh, with never a 'quaintance saving them +near about her, and I guess very few pennies in her purse. Ay, 'tis a +sad look-out for Sens, poor heart." + +"Trust me, I'll look in on her, and see what I may do, so soon as I've +borne this fardel home. Good lack! but the burying charges 'll come +heavy on her! and I doubt she's saved nought, as you say, Benedict being +sick so long." + +"I scarce think there's much can be done," said Alice, as she moved +forward; "I was in there of early morrow, and Barbara Final, she took +the maids home with her. But a kindly word's not like to come amiss. +Here's Emmet [See Note 1] Wilson at hand: she'll bear you company home, +for I have ado in the town. Good-morrow, Collet." + +"Well, good-morrow, Mistress Benden. I'll rest my fardel a bit on the +stile while Emmet comes up." + +And, lifting her heavy bundle on the stile, Collet Pardue wiped her +heated face with one end of her mantle--there were no shawls in those +days--and waited for Emmet Wilson to come up. + +Emmet was an older woman than either Alice or Collet, being nearly fifty +years of age. She too carried a bundle, though not of so formidable a +size. Both had been to Cranbrook, then the centre of the cloth-working +industry, and its home long before the days of machinery. There were +woven the solid grey broadcloths which gave to the men of the Weald the +title of "the Grey-Coats of Kent." From all the villages round about, +the factory-hands were recruited. The old factories had stood from the +days when Edward the Third and his Flemish Queen brought over the +weavers of the Netherlands to improve the English manufactures; and some +of them stand yet, turned into ancient residences for the country +squires who had large stakes in them in the old days, or peeping out +here and there in the principal streets of the town, in the form of old +gables and other antique adornments. + +"Well, Collet! You've a brave fardel yonder!" + +"I've six lads and two lasses, neighbour," said Collet with a laugh. +"Takes a sight o' cloth, it do, to clothe 'em." + +"Be sure it do! Ay, you've a parcel of 'em. There's only my man and +Titus at our house. Wasn't that Mistress Benden that parted from you +but now? She turned off a bit afore I reached her." + +"Ay, it was. She's a pleasant neighbour." + +"She's better than pleasant, she's good." + +"Well, I believe you speak sooth. I'd lief you could say the same of +her master. I wouldn't live with Master Benden for a power o' money." + +"Well, I'd as soon wish it too, for Mistress Benden's body; but I'm not +so certain sure touching Mistress Benden's soul. 'Tis my belief if +Master Benden were less cantankerous, Mistress wouldn't be nigh so +good." + +"What, you hold by the old rhyme, do you--? + + "`A spaniel, a wife, and a walnut tree, + The more they be beaten, the better they be.'" + +"Nay, I'll not say that: but this will I say, some folks be like +camomile--`the more you tread it, the more you spread it.' When you +squeeze 'em, like clover, you press the honey forth: and I count +Mistress Benden's o' that sort." + +"Well, then, let's hope poor Sens Bradbridge is likewise, for she's like +to get well squeezed and trodden. Have you heard she's lost her +master?" + +"I have so. Mistress Final told me this morrow early. Nay, I doubt +she's more of the reed family, and 'll bow down her head like a bulrush. +Sens Bradbridge'll bend afore she breaks, and Mistress Benden 'll break +afore she bends." + +"'Tis pity Mistress Benden hath ne'er a child; it might soften her +master, and anyhow should comfort her." + +"I wouldn't be the child," said Emmet drily. + +Collet laughed. "Well, nor I neither," said she. "I reckon they'll not +often go short of vinegar in that house; Master Benden's face 'd turn +all the wine, let alone the cream. I'm fain my master's not o' that +fashion: he's a bit too easy, my Nick is. I can't prevail on him to +thwack the lads when they're over-thwart; I have to do it myself." + +"I'll go bail you'd not hurt 'em much," said Emmet, with an amused +glance at the round, rosy, good-humoured face of the mother of the six +"over-thwart" lads. + +"Oh, will you! But I am a short mistress with 'em, I can tell you. Our +Aphabell shall hear of it, I promise you, when I get home. I bade him +yester-even fetch me two pound o' prunes from the spicer's, and gave him +threepence in his hand to pay for 'em; and if the rascal went not and +lost the money at cross and pile with Gregory White, and never a prune +have I in the store-cupboard. He's at all evers playing me tricks o' +that fashion. 'Tisn't a week since I sent him for a dozen o' Paris +candles, and he left 'em in the water as he came o'er the bridge. Eh, +Mistress Wilson, but lads be that pestiferous! You've but one, and that +one o' the quiet peaceable sort--you've somewhat to be thankful for, I +can tell you, that hasn't six like me, and they a set o' contrarious, +outrageous, boisterous caitiffs as ever was seen i' this world." + +"Which of 'em would you wish to part with, Collet?" + +"Well, be sure!" was Collet's half-laughing answer, as she mentally +reviewed the young gentlemen in question--her giddy, thoughtless +Aphabell, her mischievous Tobias, her Esdras always out at elbows, her +noisy, troublesome Noah, her rough Silvanus, whom no amount of +"thwacking" seemed to polish, and her lazy, ease-loving Valentine. +"Nay, come, I reckon I'll not make merchandise of any of 'em this bout. +They are a lot o' runagates, I own, but I'm their mother, look you." + +Emmet Wilson smiled significantly. "Ay, Collet, and 'tis well for you +and me that cord bears pulling at." + +"You and me?" responded Collet, lifting her bundle higher, into an +easier position. "'Tis well enough for the lads, I dare say; but what +ado hath it with you and me?" + +"I love to think, neighbour, that somewhat akin to it is said by nows +and thens of us, too, in the Court of the Great King, when the enemy +accuseth us--`Ay, she did this ill thing, and she's but a poor black +sinner at best; but thou shalt not have her, Satan; I'm her Father.'" + +"You're right there, Emmet Wilson," said Collet, in a tone which showed +that the last sentence had touched her heart. "The work and care that +my lads give me is nought to the sins wherewith we be daily angering the +Lord. He's always forgiving us, be sure." + +"A sight easier than men do, Collet Pardue, take my word for it." + +"What mean you, neighbour?" asked Collet, turning round to look her +companion in the face, for Emmet's tone had indicated that she meant +more than she said. + +"I mean one man in especial, and his name's Bastian." + +"What, the priest? Dear heart! I've not angered him, trow?" + +"You soon will, _if_ you cut your cloth as you've measured it. How many +times were you at mass this three months past?" + +"How many were you?" was the half-amused answer. + +"There's a many in Staplehurst as hasn't been no oftener," said Emmet, +"that I know: but it'll not save you, Collet. The priest has his eye on +you, be sure." + +"Then I'll keep mine on him," said Collet sturdily, as she paused at her +own door, which was that of the one little shoemaker's shop in the +village of Staplehurst. "Good-morrow, neighbour. I'll but lay down my +fardel, and then step o'er to poor Sens Bradbridge." + +"And I'll come to see her this even. Good-morrow." + +And Emmet Wilson walked on further to her home, where her husband was +the village baker and corn-monger. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note 1. Emmet is a very old variation of Emma, and sometimes spelt +Emmot; Sens is a corruption of Sancha, naturalised among us in the +thirteenth century; and Collet or Colette, the diminutive of Nichola, a +common and favourite name in the Middle Ages. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +CHRISTABEL. + +Alice Benden had reached Cranbrook, and was busied with her various +errands. Her position was slightly superior to that of Emmet and +Collet, for she was the wife of a man who "lived upright," which +enigmatical expression signified that he had not to work for his living. +Edward Benden's father had made a little money, and his son, who had no +children to whom to leave his property, chose to spend it rather than +bequeath it to distant relatives who were strangers to him. He owned +some half-dozen houses at Staplehurst, one of which was occupied by the +Pardues, and he lived on the rents of these, and the money saved by his +thrifty father. The rents he asked were not unreasonable, but if a +tenant failed to pay, out he must go. He might as well appeal to the +door-posts as to Edward Benden. + +This agreeable gentleman treated his wife much as he did his tenants. +He gave a sum of money into her hands for certain purchases, and with +that sum those purchases must be made. It was not of the least use to +explain failure by an unexpected rise in prices, or the fact that the +article required could not be had at a given time. Mr Benden expected +perfection--in every one but himself. Excuses, many and often very +poor, were admitted for that favoured individual, but no other had a +chance to offer any. + +On the present occasion, Alice had ten shillings for her marketing, with +which she was expected to provide six rabbits, a dozen pigeons, +twenty-four eggs, five yards of buckram, a black satin cap and a brown +silk doublet for her husband, a pair of shoes for herself, and sundry +things at the spicer's. The grocer, or grosser, as the word was +originally spelt, only sold wholesale, and his stock as we have it was +divided among the spicer, pepperer, and treacle-monger. That her money +would not stretch thus far Alice well knew, and she knew also that if +she were to avoid a scolding, Mr Benden's personal wants must be +supplied, whatever became of her own. Her first call, therefore, was at +the capper's for the satin cap, which cost one shilling and eightpence; +then at the tailor's for the doublet, which took four and sixpence; then +she paid ninepence for the pigeons, which were for Mr Benden's personal +eating; and next she went to the spicer's. A sugarloaf she must have, +expensive as it was, for her tyrant required his dishes sweet, and +demanded that the result should be effected by dainty sugar, not like +common people by honey or treacle: nor did she dare to omit the +currants, since he liked currant cake with his cheese and ale. Two +pounds of prunes, and four of rice, she meant to add; but those were not +especially for him, and must be left out if needful. When she had +reached this point, Alice paused, and counted up what money she had +left. + +"Doublet, 4 shillings 6 pence; cap, 1 shilling 8 pence; pigeons, 9 +pence; sugarloaf, 7 pence; currants, 1 shilling: total, 8 shillings 6 +pence." Thus ran Alice's calculations. "Only eighteenpence left. The +other things I wanted will come to 6 shillings 9 pence. What can I do +without?" + +The buckram must go: that was the heaviest article in the list, five +yards at ninepence a yard. Alice's Sunday gown must be worn without a +new lining for a while longer. Two rabbits instead of six, at twopence +a piece; three pennyworth of eggs at eight a penny: these she could +scarcely do without. The shoes, too, were badly wanted. Rice and +prunes could not be had to-day. Alice bought a pair of cheaper shoes +than she intended, paying tenpence instead of a shilling; purchased the +two rabbits and the eggs; and found that she had one penny left. She +decided that this would answer her purpose--nay, it must do so. Mr +Benden was not likely to ask if she had all she needed, so long as she +did not fail to supply his own requirements. She arranged with the +poulterer to put by the rabbits, pigeons, and eggs, for which she would +send a boy in the afternoon; and carrying the rest of her parcels, with +which she was well laden, she took the road to Staplehurst. + +As she turned the corner of the last house in Cranbrook, she was brought +to a stand-still by a voice behind her. + +"Alice!" + +A light sprang to Alice's eyes as she turned quickly round to greet a +man a few years older than herself--a man with grave dark eyes and a +brown beard. Passing all her parcels into the left hand, she gave him +the right--an action which at that time was an indication of intimate +friendship. The kiss and the hand-clasp have changed places since then. + +"Why, Roger! I look not to see thee now. How goes it this morrow with +Christie?" + +"As the Lord will, good sister." + +"And that, mefeareth, is but evil?" + +"Nay, I will not lay that name on aught the Lord doth. But she suffers +sorely, poor darling! Wilt come round our way and look in on her, +Alice?" + +"I would I might, Roger!" said Alice, with a rather distressed look. +"But this morrow--" + +"Thou hast not good conveniency thereto." Roger finished the sentence +for her. "Then let be till thine occasion serveth. Only, when it so +doth, bethink thee that a look on Aunt Alice is a rare comfort to the +little maid." + +"Be thou sure I shall not forget it. Tom came in last night, Roger. He +and Tabitha and the childre, said he, fare well." + +"That's a good hearing. And Edward hath his health?" + +"Oh ay, Edward doth rarely well." + +Mr Benden was not apt to lose his health, which partly accounted for +the very slight sympathy he was wont to show with those who were. It +was noticeable that while other people were spoken of by affectionate +diminutives both from Alice and her brother, Edward and Tabitha received +their names in full. + +"Well, then, Alice, I shall look for thee--when thou shalt be able to +come. The Lord have thee in His keeping!" + +"The Lord be with thee, dear Roger!" + +And Roger Hall turned down a side street, while Alice went on toward +Staplehurst. They were deeply attached to each other, this brother and +sister, and all the more as they found little sympathy outside their +mutual affection. Roger was quite aware of Alice's home troubles, and +she of his. They could see but little of each other, for while Mr +Benden had not absolutely forbidden his brother-in-law to enter his +house, it was a familiar fact to all parties that his sufficiently sharp +temper was not softened by a visit from Roger Hall, and Alice's +sufferings from the temper in question were generally enough to prevent +her from trying it further. It was not only sharp, but also uncertain. +What pleased him to-day--and few things did please him--was by no means +sure to please him to-morrow. Alice trod on a perpetual volcano, which +was given to opening and engulfing her just at the moment when she least +expected it. + +Roger's home troubles were of another sort. His wife was dead, and his +one darling was his little Christabel, whose few years had hitherto been +passed in pain and suffering. The apothecary was not able to find out +what hidden disorder sapped the spring of little Christie's health, and +made her from her very babyhood a frail, weak, pallid invalid, scarcely +fit to do anything except lie on a sofa, learn a few little lessons from +her father, and amuse herself with fancy work. A playfellow she could +seldom bear. Her cousins, the three daughters of her Uncle Thomas, who +lived about a mile away, were too rough and noisy for the frail child, +with one exception--Justine, who was lame, and could not keep up with +the rest. But Justine was not a comfortable companion, for she +possessed a grumbling temper, or it would perhaps be more correct to say +she was possessed by it. She suffered far less than Christie, yet +Christie was always bright and sunny, while Justine was dark and cloudy. +Yet not even Justine tried Christie as did her Aunt Tabitha. + +Aunt Tabitha was one of those women who wish and mean to do a great deal +of good, and cannot tell how to do it. Not that she realised that +inability by any means. She was absolutely convinced that nearly all +the good done in the Weald of Kent was done by Tabitha Hall, while the +real truth was that if Tabitha Hall had been suddenly transported to +Botany Bay, or any other distant region, the Weald of Kent would have +got along quite as well without her. According to Aunt Tabitha, the one +grand duty of every human creature was to rouse himself and other +people: and, measured by this rule, Aunt Tabitha certainly did her duty. +She earnestly impressed on Alice that Mr Benden would develop into a +perfect angel if only she stood up to him; and she was never tired of +assuring Christie that her weakness and suffering were entirely the +result of her own idle disinclination to rouse herself. Thus urged, +Christie did sometimes try to rouse herself, the result being that when +deprived of the stimulating presence of Aunt Tabitha, she was fit for +nothing but bed for some time afterwards. It was a good thing for her +that Aunt Tabitha's family kept her busy at home for the most part, so +that her persecutions of poor Christie were less frequent than they +would otherwise have been. + +Mr Thomas Hall, the younger brother of Roger and Alice, had the air of +a man who had been stood up to, until he had lost all power or desire of +standing up for himself. He remarked that it was a fine morning with an +aspect of deprecation that would have made it seem quite cruel to +disagree with him, even if it were raining hard. He never contradicted +his Tabitha: poor man, he knew too well what would come of it! It would +have been as easy for him to walk up to the mouth of a loaded cannon +when the gunner was applying the match, as to remark to her, in however +mild a tone, that he preferred his mutton boiled when he knew she liked +it roasted. Yet he was a good man, in his meek unobtrusive way, and +Christie liked her Uncle Thomas next best to her father and Aunt Alice. + +"Christie, I marvel you are not weary!" said her lively, robust cousin +Friswith [a corruption of Frideawide], one day. + +Not weary! Ah, how little Friswith knew about it! + +"I am by times, Friswith," said Christie meekly. + +"Mother saith she is assured you might have better health an' you would. +You lie and lie there like a log of wood. Why get you not up and go +about like other folks?" + +"I can't, cousin; it hurts me." + +"Hurts you, marry! I wouldn't give in to a bit of a hurt like that! I +never mind being hurt." + +Christie silently doubted that last statement. + +"Hear you, Christie?" + +"Yes, Friswith, I hear." + +"Then why rouse you not up, as Mother saith?" + +"I can't, Friswith; my head pains me this morrow." + +"Lack-a-daisy, what a fuss you make o'er a bit of pain! Well, I must be +away--I've to go to Cranbrook of an errand for Mother; she lacks a +sarcenet coif. If I can scrimp enough money out of this, I'll have some +carnation ribbon to guard my hat--see if I don't!" + +"Oh, Friswith! It isn't your money, 'tis Aunt Tabitha's." + +"I'll have it, though; I hate to go shabby. And I can tell you, I met +Beatrice Pardue last night, with a fresh ribbon on hers. I'll not have +her finer than me. She's stuck-up enough without it. You look out on +Sunday as I go by the window, and see if my hat isn't new guarded with +carnation. I'll get round Mother somehow; and if she do give me a +whipping, I'm not so soft as you. Good-morrow!" + +"Friswith, don't!" + +Friswith only laughed as she closed the door on Christabel, and ran off +lightly down the Cranbrook road. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +THE COMFORTABLE JUSTICE. + +Mr Justice Roberts sat in his dining-room after supper, with a tankard +of ale at his elbow. Had the "pernicious weed" been discovered at that +date, he would probably also have had a pipe in his hand; but tobacco +being yet a calamity of the future, the Justice was not smoking. + +He was, however, very comfortable. He sat in a big leather chair, which +rested his portly figure; he had just had a good supper, consisting of a +partridge pie and a dish of juicy pears; he had sold a horse that +morning at considerable profit; his mind was as easy as his body. + +There was only one thing the occurrence of which Mr Roberts would have +thought it worth his while to deprecate at that moment. This was, +anybody coming to bother him. The worthy Justice did not like to be +bothered. A good many people are of the same opinion. He had that +evening but one enemy in the world, and that was the man who should next +rap at his house door. + +"Rap-a-tap-tap-tap!" + +"Go to Jericho!" said the Justice to the unseen individual who was thus +about to disturb his rest. "I want none of you. Why on earth can't you +let a man alone?--What is it, Martha?" + +"Please you, Master, 'tis Master Benden would have a word with you." + +"What can the companion want?" mildly growled the Justice. "Well! let +him in, and bring another tankard. Good evening, Master Benden. A fine +autumn eve, trow." + +Mr Benden's face said that he had come to talk about something of more +moment than autumn evenings. He sat down opposite the Justice, buttoned +his long gown up to the neck, as if to gird himself for action, and +cleared his throat with an air of importance. + +"Master Roberts, I am come on a grave matter and a sad." + +"Can't deal with grave matters after supper," said the Justice. "Come +again in the morning. Take a pear." + +"Sir, this is a serious business." + +"Business hours are over. I never do business out of hours." + +"To-night, Master Roberts, and to-night only, shall serve for this +business." + +"I do no business out of hours!" solemnly repeated the officer of the +law. "Take a pear--take two pears, and come again in the morning." + +Mr Benden shook his head in a tragic manner, and let the pears alone. + +"They are good pears," said the Justice. "If you love no pears, put one +in your pocket with my commendations to good Mistress Benden. How doth +she?--well, I hope." + +"Were I able, Sir," replied the visitor impressively, "to bear your +commendations to good Mistress Benden, I were the happier man. But, +alas! I am not at that pass." + +"What, come you hither to complain of your wife? Fie, Master Benden! +Go you home and peace her, like a wise man as you are, and cast her half +a suffering for some woman's gear." + +Mr Benden might most truthfully have made reply that he had ere that +evening bestowed on his wife not half a suffering only, but many whole +ones: but he knew that the Justice meant half a sovereign, which was +then pronounced exactly like suffering. + +"Sir!" he said rather angrily, "it pleases you to reckon lightly of this +matter: but what, I pray you, if you have to make account thereon with +the Queen's Grace's laws, not to speak of holy Church? Sir, I give you +to wit that my wife is an ill hussy, and an heretic belike, and lacketh +a sharp pulling up--sharper than I can give her. She will not go to +church, neither hear mass, nor hath she shriven her this many a day. +You are set in office, methinks, to administer the laws, and have no +right thus to shuffle off your duty by hours and minutes. I summon you +to perform it in this case." + +Mr Justice Roberts was grave enough now. The half-lazy, half-jocose +tone which he had hitherto worn was cast aside entirely, and the +expression of his face grew almost stern. But the sternness was not all +for the culprit thus arraigned before him; much of it was for the +prosecutor. He was both shocked and disgusted with the course Mr +Benden had taken: which course is not fiction, but fact. + +"Master Benden," said he, "I am two men--the Queen's officer of her +laws, and plain Anthony Roberts of Cranbrook. You speak this even but +to Anthony Roberts: and as such, good Master, I would have you bethink +you that if your wife be brought afore me as Justice, I must deal with +her according to law. You know, moreover, that in case she shall admit +her guilt, and refuse to amend, there is no course open to me save to +commit her to prison: and you know, I suppose, what the end of that may +be. Consider well if you are avised to go through with it. A man need +count the cost of building an house ere he layeth in a load of bricks." + +"You are not wont, Master Justice, to be thus tender over women," said +Benden derisively. "Methinks ere now I have heard you to thank the +saints you never wedded one." + +"And may do so yet again, Master Benden. I covet little to have a wife +to look after." + +Like many men in his day, Mr Roberts looked upon a wife not as somebody +who would look after him, in the sense of making him comfortable, but +rather as one whom he would have the trouble of perpetually keeping out +of all sorts of ways that were naughty and wrong. + +"But that is not your case," he continued in the same stern tone. "You +set to-night--if you resolve to persevere therein--a ball rolling that +may not tarry till it reach the fire. Are you avised thereon?" + +"I am. Do your duty!" was the savage reply. + +"Then do you yours," said Mr Roberts coldly, "and bring Mrs Benden +before me next sessions day. There is time to forethink you ere it +come." + +Unconscious of the storm thus lowering over her, Alice Benden was +sitting by little Christie's sofa. There were then few playthings, and +no children's books, and other books were scarce and costly. Fifty +volumes was considered a large library, and in few houses even of +educated people were there more books than about half-a-dozen. For an +invalid confined to bed or sofa, whether child or adult, there was +little resource save needlework. Alice had come to bring her little +niece a roll of canvas and some bright-coloured silks. Having so much +time to spare, and so little variety of occupation, Christie was a more +skilful embroideress than many older women. A new pattern was a great +pleasure, and there were few pleasures open to the invalid and lonely +child. Her sole home company was her father, for their one servant, +Nell, was too busy, with the whole work of the house upon her hands, to +do more for Christabel than necessity required; and Mr Hall, who was +manager of one of the large factories in Cranbrook, was obliged to be +away nearly the whole day. Other company--her Aunt Alice excepted--was +rather a trial than a pleasure to Christabel. The young people were +rough and noisy, even when they tried not to be so, and the child's +nerves were weak. Aunt Tabitha worried her to "rouse herself, and not +be a burden on her poor father"; and how gladly would Christabel have +done it! Uncle Thomas was also a harassing visitor, though in another +way. He never knew what to say, when he had once asked how the invalid +felt: he only sat and gazed at her and the window alternately, now and +then, as though by a mental jerk, bringing out a few words. + +"He causes me to feel so naughty, Aunt," said Christie dolefully, "and I +do want to be good. He sits and looks on me till I feel--I feel--Aunt +Alice, I can't find the words: as if all my brains would come out of my +finger-ends, if he went on. And now and then he says a word or two-- +such as `Rain afore night, likely,' or `Bought a drove of pigs +yesterday,' and I can only say, `Yes, uncle.' I think 'tis hard for +both of us, Aunt Alice, for we don't know what to say one to the other. +I can't talk to _him_, and he can't talk to _me_." + +Alice laughed, and then the tears almost rose in her eyes, as she softly +smoothed Christie's fair hair. She knew full well the sensation of +intense, miserable nerve-strain, for which the little girl strove in +vain to find words. + +"'Tis hard to be patient, little Christie," she said tenderly. "But God +knoweth it, dear heart; and He is very patient with us." + +"O Aunt Alice, I know! And I am so sorry afterwards, when I should have +been quiet and patient, and I have spoken crossly. People know not how +hard it is, and how hard one tries: they only see when one gives way. +They see not even how ashamed one is afterwards." + +"Truth, sweet heart; but the Lord seeth." + +"Aunt, think you the Lord Jesus ever felt thus?" + +"He never felt sin, Christie; but I reckon He knew as well as any of us +what it is to be wearied and troubled, when matters went not to His +comfort. `The contradiction of sinners' covereth a great deal." + +"I wonder," said Christie plaintively, "if He felt as if it hurt Him +when His brethren banged the doors! Friswith alway does when she comes; +and it is like as if she struck me on the ears. And she never seems to +hear it!" + +"I cannot tell, sweeting, what He felt in the days of His flesh at +Nazareth; but I can tell thee a better thing--that He doth feel now, and +for thee. `I am poor and needy, but the Lord careth for me.' Keep that +in thine heart, little Christie; it shall be like a soft pillow for thy +weary head." + +Alice rose to go home, and tied on her blue hood. + +"O Aunt Alice, must you go? Couldn't you tarry till Father comes?" + +"I think not, my dear heart. Tell thy father I had need to haste away, +but I will come again and see both him and thee to-morrow." + +To-morrow! + +"Give him my loving commendations. Good-night, my child." And Alice +hurried away. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +TABBY SHOWS HER CLAWS. + +Friswith Hall was returning from Cranbrook in a state of great +satisfaction. She had made an excellent bargain; and she was the sort +of girl to whose mind a bargain had the flavour of a victory. In the +first place, she had squeezed both coif and ribbon out of her money; and +in the second, she had--as she fondly believed--purchased an article +worth one-and-tenpence for eighteenpence. + +As she came up to the last stile she had to pass, Friswith saw two girls +sitting on it--the elder a slender, delicate-looking girl of some +fourteen years, the younger a sturdy, little, rosy-faced damsel of +seven. They looked up on hearing steps, and the elder quitted her seat +to leave Friswith room to pass. + +"Good-morrow, Pen! So you've got Patience there?" + +"I haven't much, I'm afraid," said Pen, laughing. "I came out here +because the lads made such a noise I could scarce hear myself speak; and +I wanted to teach Patience her hymn. Charity knows hers; but Patience +learns slower." + +"Are they with you, then--both?" + +"For a few days. Mistress Bradbridge is gone to visit her brother at +Chelmsford, so she left her little maids with Mother." + +"What a company must you be! How can you ever squeeze into the house?" + +"Oh, folks can squeeze into small corners when they choose," said Penuel +Pardue, with a smile. "A very little corner will hold both Charity and +Patience." + +"Then you haven't much of either," answered Friswith satirically. "Look +you here, Pen!" + +And unrolling her ribbon, she displayed its crimson beauties. + +"What's that for?" + +"For my hat! You can tell Beatrice, if you like, she won't be the +best-dressed maid at church next Sunday." + +"I should never suppose she would," was the quiet reply. + +"Oh, I saw her blue ribbons! But I'll be as grand as she, you'll see +now. Mother sent me to buy her a coif, and I got this for the money +too. Don't you wish you were me?" + +"No, Friswith, I don't think I do," said Penuel gravely. + +"That's because you think Mother will scold. I'll stand up to her if +she do. She's always bidding us stand up to folks, and I'll see how she +likes it herself a bit!" + +With which very dutiful speech, Friswith took her departure. + +Penuel looked after her for a moment, and then, with a shake of her head +which meant more than words, turned back to Patience and the hymn. + +"Now, little Patience, try to learn the next verse. I will say it over +to thee. + + "`And in the presence of my foes + My table Thou shalt spread; + Thou shalt, O Lord, fill full my cup, + And eke anoint my head.'" + +"Who be my foes, Pen?" said Patience. + +"Folks that tease and trouble thee, my child." + +"Oh!" responded Patience, instantly making a practical application. +"Toby and Silas, that is. But they didn't see you spread the table, +Pen. They were out playing on the green." + +Penuel tried to "improve" this very literal rendering of the Psalm, but +found it impossible to advance further than the awakening in Patience's +mind an expectation of a future, but equally literal table, the dainties +on which Toby and Silas would not be privileged to share. + +"I won't give them the lessest bit, 'cause they're my foes," said +Patience stubbornly. "You shall have some, Pen, and so shall Beatie-- +and Abbafull, if he's good. He tied my shoe." + +"Aphabell, not Abbafull," corrected Penuel. "But, Patience, that won't +serve: you've got to forgive your enemies." + +"They shan't have one bit!" announced Patience, putting her hands behind +her back, as if to emphasise her statement. "Pen, what does `anoint my +head' mean?" + +"Pour oil on it," said Penuel. + +"I won't have oil on my head! I'll pour it on Silas and Toby. It'll +run down and dirt their clothes, and then Mother Pardue'll thwack 'em." + +"Patience, Patience! Little maids mustn't want to have people +thwacked." + +"I may want my foes thwacked, and I will!" replied Patience sturdily. + +"Look at the people coming up the road," answered Penuel, thinking it +well to make a diversion. "Why, there's Master Benden and his mistress, +and Mistress Hall, and ever so many more. What's ado, I marvel?" + +About a dozen persons comprised the approaching group, which was brought +up by a choice assortment of small boys, among whom Penuel's brothers, +Esdras and Silvanus, were conspicuous. Mr Benden walked foremost, +holding his wife by her wrist, as if he were afraid of her running away; +whilst she went with him as quietly as if she had no such intention. +Almost in a line with them was Tabitha Hall, and she was pouring out a +torrent of words. + +"And you'll rue it, Edward Benden, you take my word for it! You savage +barbarian, to deal thus with a decent woman that never shamed you nor +gave you an ill word! Lack-a-day, but I thank all the saints on my +bended knees I'm not your wife! I'd--" + +"So do I, Mistress!" was Mr Benden's grim answer. + +"I'd make your life a burden to you, if I were! I'd learn you to +ill-use a woman! I'd give it you, you white-livered dotipole [cowardly +simpleton] of a Pharisee! Never since the world began--" + +"Go to!" shrieked the boys behind, in great glee. "Scratch him, Tabby, +do!" + +Alice never uttered a word, either to her husband or her sister-in-law. +She heard it all as though she heard not. Catching the eye of her +brother Esdras, Penuel beckoned to him, and that promising youth +somewhat reluctantly left the interesting group, and shambled up to his +eldest sister at the stile. + +"Esdras, what is all this? Do tell me." + +"'Tis Master Benden, a-carrying of his mistress afore the Justices, and +Mistress Hall's a-showing him the good love she bears him for it." + +"Afore the Justices! Mistress Benden! Dear saints, but wherefore?" + +"Oh, I wis nought of the inwards thereof," said Esdras, pulling a switch +from the hedge. "Some saith one thing, and some another. But they +saith she'll go to prison, safe sure." + +"Oh, Esdras, I am sorry!" said Penuel, in a tone of great distress. +"Mother will be sore troubled. Everybody loves Mistress Benden, and few +loveth her master. There's some sorry blunder, be thou sure." + +"Very like," said Esdras, turning to run off after the disappearing +company. + +"Esdras," said little Patience suddenly, "you've got a big hole in you." + +"Oh, let be! my gear's alway in holes," was the careless answer. "It'll +hold together till I get back, I reckon. Here goes!" + +And away went Esdras, with two enormous holes in his stockings, and a +long strip of his jacket flying behind him like a tail. + +"Oh dear, this world!" sighed Penuel. "I'm afraid 'tis a bad place. +Come, little Patience, let us go home." + +When the girls reached Mrs Pardue's cottage, they found there the +mother of Patience, Mrs Bradbridge. She sat talking earnestly to Mrs +Pardue, who was busy washing, and said little in answer beyond such +replies, compatible with business, as "Ay," "I reckon so," or "To be +sure!" + +"Mother!" said Penuel, as she led Patience in, "have you heard of this +matter of Mistress Benden's?" + +"Nay, child," replied Collet, stopping in the process of hanging up a +skirt to dry. "Why, whatso? Naught ill, I do hope and trust, to +Mistress Benden. I'd nigh as soon have aught hap evil to one of my own +as her." + +"Eh, neighbour, 'tis all a body need look for," sighed poor Widow +Bradbridge, lifting Patience on her knee. "This world's naught save +trouble and sorrow--never was sin' the Flood, more especially for +women." + +"She's had up to the Justices, Mother, but I couldn't hear for why; and +her own husband is he that taketh her." + +"He'll get his demerits, be sure," said Mrs Bradbridge. + +"Well, and I wouldn't so much mind if he did," was Mrs Pardue's +energetic comment. "He never was fit to black her shoes, he wasn't. +Alice Benden afore the Justices! why, I'd as soon believe I ought to be +there. If I'd ha' knowed, it should ha' cost me hot water but I'd ha' +been with her, to cheer up and stand by the poor soul. Why, it should +abhor any Christian man to hear of such doings!" + +"Mistress Hall's withal, Mother: and I guess Master Benden 'll have his +water served not much off the boil." + +"I'm fain to hear it!" said Collet. + +"Eh, she was at him, I can tell you! and she handled the matter shrewdly +too. So was Esdras and Silas, and a sort more lads, a-crying, `Scratch +him, Tabby!' and she scraught him right well." + +"The naughty caitiffs!" exclaimed their mother. "Howbeit, when they +come home we shall maybe know the inwards of the matter." + +The boys did not come home for some hours. When they did, Esdras slunk +up the ladder, his garments being in a state which, as Silas had just +kindly informed him, "smelt of the birch," and not desiring the +application of that remedy sooner than could be helped. Silas flung his +cap into the furthest corner, with a shout of "Hooray!" which sent his +mother's hands to her ears. + +"Bless the lad!--he'll deafen a body, sure enough! Now then, speak, +caitiff, and tell us what's ado with Mistress Benden. Is she let off?" + +"She's sent a-prison," shouted Silas, in tones which seemed likely to +carry that information down the row. "Justice axed her why she went not +to church, and quoth she, `That can I not do, with a good conscience, +since there is much idolatry committed against the glory of God.' And +then she was committed. Justice didn't love his work o'er well, and +Master Benden, as he was a-coming away, looked as sour as crabs. And +old Tabby--Oh, lack-a-daisy-me! didn't she have at him! She's a good +un, and no mistake! She stuck to his heels all the way along, and she +beat him black and blue with her tongue, and he looked like a butt of +alegar with a hogshead o' mustard in it. Hooray for old Tabby!"--and +Silas announced that sentiment to the neighbourhood at the top of his +very unsubdued voice. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +REPENTANCE. + +"Sil-van-us Par-due!" Five very distinct syllables from his mother +greeted the speech wherein Master Silas expressed his appreciation of +the action of Mrs Tabitha Hall. "Silas, I would you were as 'shamed of +yourself as I am of you." + +"Well, Mother," responded Silas, with a twinkle in a pair of shining +brown eyes, "if you'll run up yonder ladder and take half a look at +Esdras, you'll not feel nigh so 'shamed of me at after!" + +This skilful diversion of the attack from himself to his brother--a feat +wherein every son of Adam is as clever as his forefather--effected the +end which Master Silvanus had proposed to himself. + +"Dear heart alive!" cried Mrs Pardue, in a flutter, "has that lad tore +his self all o' pieces?" + +"There isn't many pieces left of him," calmly observed Silas. + +Mrs Pardue disappeared up the ladder, from which region presently came +the sound of castigation, with its attendant howls from the sufferer, +while Silas, having provided himself with a satisfactory cinder, +proceeded, in defiance of Penuel's entreaties, to sketch a rather clever +study of Mrs Tabitha Hall in the middle of his mother's newly washed +table-cloth. + +"Eh, Pen, you'll never do no good wi' no lads!" lamented Mrs +Bradbridge, rising to depart. "Nought never does lads a bit o' good +save thrashing 'em. I'm truly thankful mine's both maids. They're a +sight o' trouble, lads be. Good even." + +As Mistress Bradbridge went out, Mr Pardue was stepping in. + +"Silas, let be!" said his father quietly; and Silas made a face, but +pocketed the cinder for future use. "Pen, where's Mother?" + +Mrs Pardue answered for herself by coming down the ladder. + +"There! I've given it Esdras: now, Silas, 'tis thy turn." + +No pussy cat could have worn an aspect of more exquisite meekness than +Mr Silvanus Pardue at that moment, having dexterously twitched a towel +so as to hide the work of art on which he had been engaged the moment +before. + +"I've done nothing, Mother," he demurely observed, adding with conscious +virtue, "I never tear my clothes." + +"You've made a pretty hole in your manners, my master," replied his +mother. "Nicholas, what thinkest a lad to deserve that nicks Mistress +Hall with the name of `Old Tabby'?" + +Nicholas Pardue made no answer in words, but silently withdrew the +protecting towel, and disclosed the sufficiently accurate portrait of +Mistress Tabitha on the table-cloth. + +"Thou weary gear of a pert, mischievous losel!" [wretch, rascal] cried +Collet. "Thou shalt dine with Duke Humphrey [a proverbial expression +for fasting] this morrow, and sup on birch broth, as I'm a living woman! +My clean-washed linen that I've been a-toiling o'er ever since three o' +the clock! Was there nought else to spoil but that, thou rascal?" + +"Oh ay, Mother," said Silas placidly. "There's your new partlet, and +Pen's Sunday gown." + +Mrs Pardue's hand came down not lightly upon Silas. + +"I'll partlet thee, thou rogue! I'll learn thee to dirt clean gear, and +make work for thy mother! If ever in all my born days I saw a worser +lad--" + +The door was darkened. Collet looked up, and beheld the parish priest. +Her hold of Silas at once relaxed--a fact of which that lively gentleman +was not slow to take advantage--and she dropped a courtesy, not very +heartfelt, as the Reverend Philip Bastian made his way into the cottage. +Nicholas gave a pull to his forelock, while Collet, bringing forward a +chair, which she dusted with her apron, dismissed Penuel with a look. + +The priest's face meant business. He sat down, leaned both hands on his +gold-headed cane, and took a deliberate look at both Nicholas and Collet +before he said a word beyond the bare "Good even." After waiting long +enough to excite considerable uneasiness in their minds, he inquired in +dulcet tones-- + +"What have you to say to me, my children?" + +It was the woman who answered. "Please you. Father, we've nought to +say, not in especial, without to hope you fare well this fine even." + +"Indeed!--and how be you faring?" + +"Right well, an't like you, Father, saving some few pains in my bones, +such as I oft have of a washing-day." + +"And how is it with thy soul, daughter?" + +"I lack not your help therein, I thank you," said Collet somewhat +spiritedly. + +"Do you not so? I pray you, where have you stood in the church since +last May, that never once have I, looking from the altar, seen your +faces therein? Methinks you must have found new standing-room, behind +the rood-screen, or maybe within the font," suggested the priest +satirically. "Wit you that this is ever the beginning of heresy? Have +you heard what has befallen your landlord's wife, Mistress Benden? +Doubtless she thought her good name and repute should serve her in this +case. Look you, they have not saved her. She lieth this night in +Canterbury Gaol, whither you may come belike, an' you have not a care, +and some of your neighbours with you. Moreover, your dues be not fully +paid--" + +"Sir," replied Nicholas Pardue, "I do knowledge myself behind in that +matter, and under your good leave, I had waited on you ere the week were +out. A labouring man, with a great store of children, hath not alway +money to his hand when it most list him to pay the same." + +"So far, well," answered the priest more amiably. "I will tarry a time, +trusting you shall in other ways return to your duty. God give you a +good even!" + +And with seven shillings more in his pocket than when he entered, the +Rev. Philip Bastian went his way. Nicholas and Collet looked at each +other with some concern. + +"We've but barely 'scaped!" said the latter. "What do we now, Nick? +Wilt go to church o' Sunday?" + +"No," said Nicholas quietly. + +"Shall I go without thee, to peace him like?" + +"Not by my good-will thereto." + +"Then what do we?" + +"What we have hitherto done. Serve God, and keep ourselves from idols." + +"Nick, I do by times marvel if it be any ill to go. _We_ worship no +idols, even though we bow down--" + +"`Thou shalt not bow down to them' is the command." + +"Ay, but they were images of false gods." + +"Read the Commandment, good wife. They were `any graven image, or the +likeness of any thing that is in Heaven above, or in the earth beneath, +or in the waters under the earth.' Not a word touching false gods read +I there." + +"Why, but that were to condemn all manner of painting and such like-- +even yon rogue's likeness of Mistress Hall yonder." + +"Scarcely, methinks, so long as it were not made for worship. The +cherubim were commanded to be made. But if so were, wife--whether were +better, that the arts of painting and sculpture were forgotten, or that +God should be dishonoured and His commands disobeyed?" + +"Well, if you put it that way--" + +"Isn't it the true way?" + +"Ay, belike it is. But he'll be down on us, Nick." + +"No manner of doubt, wife, but he will, and Satan too. But `I am with +thee, and no man shall invade thee to hurt thee,' [see Note] saith the +Lord unto His servants." + +"They've set on Mistress Benden, trow." + +"Nay, not to hurt her. `Some of you shall they cause to be put to +death... yet shall not an hair of your head perish.'" + +"Eh, Nick, how shall that be brought about?" + +"I know not, Collet, neither do I care. The Lord's bound to bring it +about, and He knows how. I haven't it to do." + +"'Tis my belief," said Collet, shaking the table-cloth, in a fond +endeavour to obliterate the signs of Master Silas and his art, "that +Master Benden 'll have a pretty bill to pay, one o' these days!" + +Her opinion would have been confirmed if she could have looked into the +window at Briton's Mead, as Mr Benden's house was called. For Edward +Benden was already coming to that conclusion. He sat in his lonely +parlour, without a voice to break the stillness, after an uncomfortable +supper sent up in the absence of the mistress by a girl whom Alice had +not yet fully trained, and who, sympathising wholly with her, was not +concerned to increase the comfort of her master. At that time the +mistress of a house, unless very exalted, was always her own housekeeper +and head cook. + +Mr Benden was not a man usually given to excess, but he drank deeply +that evening, to get out of the only company he had, that of his own +self-reproachful thoughts. He had acted in haste--spurred on, not +deterred, by Tabitha's bitter speeches; and he was now occupied in +repenting considerably at leisure. He knew as well as any one could +have told him, that he was an unpopular man in his neighbourhood, and +that no one of his acquaintance would have done or suffered much for +him, save that long-suffering wife who, by his own act, lay that night a +prisoner in Canterbury Gaol. Even she did not love him--he had never +given her room nor reason; but she would have done her duty by him, and +he knew it. + +He looked up to where her portrait hung upon the wall, taken ten years +ago, in the bloom of her youth. The eyes were turned towards him, and +the lips were half parted in a smile. + +"Alice!" he said, as if the picture could have heard him. "Alice!" + +But the portrait smiled on, and gave no answer. + +"I'll have you forth, Alice," he murmured. "I'll see to it the first +thing to-morrow. Well, not to-morrow, neither; market-day at Cranbrook. +I meant to take the bay horse to sell there. Do no harm, trow, to let +her tarry a two-three days or a week. I mean you no harm, Alice; only +to bring you down a little, and make you submissive. You're a bit too +much set on your own way, look you. I'll go to Master Horden and Master +Colepeper, and win them to move Dick o' Dover to leave her go forth. It +shall do her a power of good--just a few days. And I can ne'er put up +with many suppers like this--I must have her forth. Should have thought +o' that sooner, trow. Ay, Alice--I'll have you out!" + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note. Most of the Scriptural quotations are taken from Cranmer's Bible. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +PEPPERED BROTH. + +"Father! O Father! Must I forgive Uncle Edward? I don't see how I +can." + +"I'm afraid you must, Christie, if you look to follow Christ." + +"But how can I? To use dear Aunt Alice so cruelly!" + +"How can God forgive thee and me, Christie, that have used His blessed +Son far, far worser than Uncle Edward hath used Aunt Alice, or ever +could use her?" + +"Father, have you forgiven him?" + +It was a hard question. Next after his little Christie herself, the +dearest thing in the world to Roger Hall was his sister Alice. He +hesitated an instant. + +"No, you haven't," said Christie, in a tone of satisfaction. "Then I'm +sure I don't need if _you_ haven't." + +"Dost thou mean, then, to follow Roger Hall, instead of the Lord Jesus?" + +Christie parried that difficult query by another. + +"Father, _love_ you Uncle Edward?" + +"I am trying, Christie." + +"I should think you'd have to try about a hundred million years!" said +Christie. "I feel as if I should be as glad as could be, if a big bear +would just come and eat him up!--or a great lion, I would not mind which +it was, if it wouldn't leave the least bit of him." + +"But if Christ died for Uncle Edward, my child?" + +"I don't see how He could. I wouldn't." + +"No, dear heart, I can well believe that. `Scarce will any man die for +a righteous man... But God setteth out His love toward us, seeing that +while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.' And He left us `an +ensample,' my Christie, `that we should follow His steps.'" + +"I can't, Father; I can't!" + +"Surely thou canst not, without the Lord make thee able. Thou canst +never follow Christ in thine own strength. But `His strength is made +perfect through weakness.' I know well, my dear heart, 'tis vastly +harder to forgive them that inflict suffering on them we love dearly-- +far harder than when we be the sufferers ourselves. But God can enable +us to do even that, Christie." + +Christie's long sigh, as she turned on her cushion, said that it was +almost too hard for her to believe. But before she had found an answer, +the door opened, and Mrs Tabitha Hall appeared behind it. + +"Well, Roger Hall, how love you your good brother-in-law this morrow?" +was her greeting. "I love not his action in no wise, sister." + +"What mean you by that? Can you set a man's action in one basket, and +himself in another? It's a strain beyond E-la, that is." [See note.] + +"We're trying to forgive Uncle Edward, Aunt," said Christie from her +couch, in a rather lugubrious tone. + +"Pleasant work, isn't it?" was Aunt Tabitha's answer. "I haven't +forgiven him, nor tried neither; nor I amn't going." + +"But Father says we must." + +"Very good; let him set us the ensample." + +Aunt Tabitha made herself comfortable in Mr Hall's big chair, which he +vacated for her convenience. By her side she set down her large +market-basket, covered with a clean cloth, from which at one end +protruded the legs of two geese, and at the other the handle of a new +frying-pan. + +"I've been up to see him this morrow; I thought he'd best not come short +o' bitters. But he's off to Cranbrook with his bay horse--at the least +so saith Mall--and I shall need to tarry while he comes back. It'll not +hurt: bitters never lose strength by standing. I'll have it out with +him again, come this even." + +"Best not, Tabitha. It should maybe turn to more bitters for poor +Alice, if you anger him yet further. And we have no right to +interfere." + +"What mean you by that, Roger Hall?" demanded Mistress Tabitha, in +warlike tones. "No right, quotha! If that isn't a man, all o'er! I've +a right to tell my brother-in-law he's an infamous rascal, and I'll do +it, whether I have or no! No right, marry come up! Where else is he to +hear it, prithee? You talk of forgiving him, forsooth, and Alice never +stands up to him an inch, and as for that Tom o' mine, why, he can +scarce look his own cat in the face. Deary weary me! where would you +all be, I'd like to know, without I looked after you? You'd let +yourselves be trod on and ground down into the dust, afore you'd do so +much as squeal. That's not my way o' going on, and you'd best know it." + +"Thank you, Sister Tabitha; I think I knew it before," said Mr Hall +quietly. + +"Please, Aunt Tabitha--" Christie stopped and flushed. + +"Well, child, what's ado?" + +"Please, Aunt, if you wouldn't!" suggested Christie lucidly. "You see, +I've got to forgive Uncle Edward, and when you talk like that, it makes +me boil up, and I can't." + +"Boil up, then, and boil o'er," said Aunt Tabitha, half-amused. "I'll +tarry to forgive him, at any rate, till he says he's sorry." + +"But Father says God didn't wait till we were sorry, before the Lord +Jesus died for us, Aunt Tabitha." + +"You learn your gram'mer to suck eggs!" was the reply. "Well, if you're +both in that mind, I'd best be off; I shall do no good with you." And +Aunt Tabitha swung the heavy market-basket on her strong arm as lightly +as if it were only a feather's weight. "Good-morrow; I trust you'll +hear reason, Roger Hall, next time I see you. Did you sup your herbs, +Christie, that I steeped for you?" + +"Yes, Aunt, I thank you," said Christabel meekly, a vivid recollection +of the unsavoury flavour of the dose coming over her, and creating a +fervent hope that Aunt Tabitha would be satisfied without repeating it. + +"Wormwood, and betony, and dandelion, and comfrey," said Aunt Tabitha. +"Maybe, now, you'd best have a change; I'll lay some camomile and ginger +to steep for you, with a pinch of balm--that'll be pleasant enough to +sup." + +Christabel devoutly hoped it would be better than the last, but she +wisely refrained from saying so. + +"As for Edward Benden, I'll mix him some wormwood and rue," resumed Aunt +Tabitha grimly: "and I'll not put honey in it neither. Good-morrow. +You've got to forgive him, you know: much good may it do you! It'll not +do him much, without I mistake." + +And Aunt Tabitha and her basket marched away. Looking from the window, +Mr Hall descried Mr Benden coming up a side road on the bay horse, +which he had evidently not succeeded in selling. He laughed to himself +as he saw that Tabitha perceived the enemy approaching, and evidently +prepared for combat. Mr Benden, apparently, did not see her till he +was nearly close to her, when he at once spurred forward to get away, +pursued by the vindictive Tabitha, whose shrill voice was audible as she +ran, though the words could not be heard. They were not, however, +difficult to imagine. Of course the horse soon distanced the woman. +Aunt Tabitha, with a shake of her head and another of her clenched fist +at the retreating culprit, turned back for her basket, which she had set +down on the bank to be rid of its weight in the pursuit. + +Mr Benden's reflections were not so pleasant as they might have been, +and they were no pleasanter for having received curt and cold welcome +that morning from several of his acquaintances in Cranbrook. People +manifestly disapproved of his recent action. There were many who +sympathised but little with Alice Benden's opinions, and would even have +been gratified by the detection and punishment of a heretic, who were +notwithstanding disgusted and annoyed that a quiet, gentle, and +generally respected gentlewoman should be denounced to the authorities +by her own husband. He, of all men, should have shielded and screened +her. Even Justice Roberts had nearly as much as told him so. Mr +Benden felt himself a semi-martyr. The world was hard on disinterested +virtue, and had no sympathy with self-denial. It is true, the world did +not know his sufferings at the hands of Mary, who could not send up a +decent hash--and who was privately of opinion that an improper hash, or +no hash at all, was quite good enough for the man who had accused her +dear mistress to the authorities. Mr Benden was growing tired of +disinterested virtue, which was its own reward, and a very poor one. + +"I can't stand this much longer; I must have Alice back!" was his +reflection as he alighted from the bay horse. + +But Nemesis had no intention of letting him off thus easily. Mistress +Tabitha Hall had carried home her geese and frying-pan, and after +roasting and eating the former with chestnut sauce, churning the week's +supply of butter, setting the bread to rise, and indicating to Friswith +and Joan, her elder daughters, what would be likely to happen to them if +the last-named article were either over or under-baked, she changed her +gown from a working woollen to an afternoon camlet, and took her way to +Briton's Mead. Mr Benden had supped as best he might on a very tough +chicken pie, with a crust not much softer than crockery, and neither his +digestion nor his temper was in a happy condition, when Mary rapped at +the door, and much to her own satisfaction informed her master that +Mistress Hall would fain have speech of him. Mr Benden groaned almost +audibly. Could he by an act of will have transported Tabitha to the +further side of the Mountains of the Moon, nobody in Staplehurst would +have seen much more of her that year. But, alas! he had to run the +gauntlet of her comments on himself and his proceedings, which he well +knew would not be complimentary. For a full hour they were closeted +together. Mary, in the kitchen, could faintly hear their voices, and +rejoiced to gather from the sound that, to use her own expression, "the +master was supping his broth right well peppered." At last Mistress +Tabitha marched forth, casting a Parthian dart behind her. + +"See you do, Edward Benden, without you want another basin o' hot water; +and I'll set the kettle on to boil this time, I promise you!" + +"Good even, Mary," she added, as she came through the kitchen. "He +(without any antecedent) has promised he'll do all he can to fetch her +forth; and if he doesn't, and metely soon too, he'll wish he had, that's +all!" + +So saying, Mistress Tabitha marched home to inspect her bread, and if +need were, to "set the kettle on" there also. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Note: _E-la_ is the highest note in the musical system of Guido +d'Aretino, which was popular in the sixteenth century. "A strain beyond +E-la," therefore, signified something impossible or unreasonable. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +WHEREIN ALICE COMES HOME. + +Partly moved by a faint sense of remorse, partly by Mrs Tabitha's sharp +speeches, and partly also--perhaps most of all--by his private +discomfort in respect of Mary's culinary unskilfulness, Mr Benden set +himself to eat his dose of humble pie. He waited on Mr Horden of +Finchcocks, and Mr Colepeper of Bedgebury Park, two of the chief men of +position and influence in his neighbourhood, to entreat them to exert +themselves in persuading the Bishop to release Alice as soon as +possible. The diocese, of course, was that of Cardinal Pole; but this +portion of it was at that time in the hands of his suffragan, Dr +Richard Thornton, Bishop of Dover, whom the irreverent populace +familiarly termed Dick of Dover. This right reverend gentleman was not +of the quiet and reasonable type of Mr Justice Roberts. On the +contrary, he had a keen scent for a heretic, and took great delight in +bringing one into tribulation. On receiving the letters wherein Messrs. +Horden and Colepeper interceded for Alice Benden, his Lordship ordered +the prisoner to be brought before him. + +The Archbishop's gaoler went down to the prison, where Alice Benden, a +gentlewoman by birth and education, shared one large room with women of +the worst character and lowest type, some committed for slight offences, +some for heavy crimes. These women were able to recognise in an instant +that this prisoner was of a different order from themselves. Those who +were not fallen into the depths, treated her with some respect; but the +lowest either held aloof from her or jeered at her--mostly the latter. +Alice took all meekly; did what she could for the one or two that were +ailing, and the three or four who had babies with them; spoke words of +Gospel truth and kindly sympathy to such as would let her speak them: +and when sleep closed the eyes and quieted the tongues of most, +meditated and communed with God. The gaoler opened the door a little +way, and just put his head into the women's room. The prisoners might +have been thankful that there were separate chambers for men and +women... Such luxuries were unknown in many gaols at that date. + +"Alice Benden!" he said gruffly. + +Alice rose, gave back to its mother a baby she had been holding, and +went towards the gaoler, who stood at the top of the stone steps which +led down from the door. + +"Here I am, Master Gaoler: what would you with me?" + +"Tie on your hood and follow me; you are to come afore my Lord of +Dover." + +Alice's heart beat somewhat faster, as she took down her hood from one +of the pegs around the room, and followed the gaoler through a long +passage, up a flight of steps, across a courtyard, and into the hall +where the Bishop was holding his Court. She said nothing which the +gaoler could hear: but the God in whom Alice trusted heard an earnest +cry of--"Lord, I am Thine; save Thine handmaid that trusteth in Thee!" + +The gaoler led her forward to the end of a long table which stood before +the Bishop, and announced her name to his Lordship. + +"Alice Benden, of Briton's Mead, Staplehurst, an' it like your +Lordship." + +"Ah!" said his Lordship, in an amiable tone; "she it is touching whom I +had letters. Come hither to me, I pray you, Mistress. Will you now go +home, and go to church in time coming?" + +That meant, would she consent to worship images, and to do reverence to +the bread of the Lord's Supper as if Christ Himself were present? There +was no going to church in those days without that. And that, as Alice +Benden knew, was idolatry, forbidden by God in the First and Second +Commandments. + +"If I would have so done," she said in a quiet, modest tone, "I needed +not have come hither." + +"Wilt thou go home, and be shriven of thy parish priest?" + +"No, I will not." Alice could not believe that a man could forgive +sins. Only God could do that; and He did not need a man through whom to +do it. The Lord Jesus was just as able to say to her from His throne +above, as He had once said on earth to a poor, trembling, despised +woman--"Thy sins be forgiven thee; go in peace." + +Something had made "Dick of Dover" unusually gentle that afternoon. He +only replied--"Well, go thy ways home, and go to church when thou wilt." + +Alice made no answer. She was resolved to promise nothing. But a +priest who stood by, whether mistakenly thinking that she spoke, or kind +enough to wish to help her, answered for her--"She says she will, my +Lord." + +"Enough. Go thy ways!" said the Bishop, who seemed to wish to set her +at liberty: perhaps he was a little afraid of the influential men who +had interceded for her. Alice, thus dismissed, walked out of the hall a +free woman. As she came out into Palace Street, a hand was laid upon +her shoulder. + +"Well, Alice!" said Edward Benden's voice. "I wrought hard to fetch you +forth; I trust you be rightly thankful. Come home." + +Not a word did he say of the pains he had taken originally to drive her +into the prison; neither did Alice allude to that item. She only said +in the meekest manner--"I thank you, Edward"--and followed her lord and +master down Mercery Lane towards Wincheap Gate. She did not even ask +whether he had made any preparations for her journey home, or whether he +expected her to follow him on foot through the five-and-twenty miles +which lay between Canterbury and Staplehurst. But when they reached the +western corner of the lane, Mr Benden stopped at the old Chequers Inn, +and in a stentorian voice demanded "that bay." The old bay horse which +Alice knew so well, and which her husband had not succeeded in selling +for more than its worth, as he desired, was brought forth, laden with a +saddle and pillion, on the latter of which Alice took her place behind +Mr Benden. + +Not a word was spoken by either during the journey. They were about a +mile from Staplehurst, and had just turned a corner in the road, when +they were greeted by words in considerable number. + +"Glad to see you!" said a brown hood--for the face inside it was not +visible. "I reckoned you'd think better of it; but I'd got a good few +bitters steeping for you, in case you mightn't. Well, Alice! how liked +you yonder?--did Dick o' Dover use you metely well?--and how came he to +let you go free? Have you promised him aught? He doesn't set folks at +liberty, most commonly, without they do. Come, speak up, woman! and +let's hear all about it." + +"I have promised nothing," said Alice calmly; "nor am I like so to do. +Wherefore the Bishop let me go free cannot I tell you; but I reckon that +Edward here wist more of the inwards thereof than I. How go matters +with you, Tabitha?" + +"Oh, as to the inwards," said the brown hood, with a short, satirical +laugh, "I guess I know as much as you or Edward either; 'twas rather the +outwards I made inquiry touching. Me? Oh, I'm as well as common, and +so be folks at home; I've given Friswith a fustigation, and tied up Joan +to the bedpost, and told our Tom he'd best look out. He hasn't the +spirit of a rabbit in him. I'd fain know where he and the childre 'd be +this day month, without I kept matters going." + +"How fares Christabel, I pray you?" + +"Oh, same as aforetime; never grows no better, nor no worser. It caps +me. She doesn't do a bit o' credit to my physicking--not a bit. And +I've dosed her with betony, and camomile, and comfrey, and bugloss, and +hart's tongue, and borage, and mugwort, and dandelion--and twenty herbs +beside, for aught I know. It's right unthankful of her not to mend; but +childre is that thoughtless! And Roger, he spoils the maid--never +stands up to her a bit--gives in to every whim and fantasy she takes in +her head. If she cried for the moon, he'd borrow every ladder in the +parish and lash 'em together to get up." + +"What 'd he set it against?" gruffly demanded Mr Benden, who had not +uttered a word before. + +"Well, if he set it against your conceit o' yourself, I guess he'd get +high enough--a good bit higher than other folks' conceit of you. I +marvel if you're ashamed of yourself, Edward Benden. I am." + +"First time you ever were ashamed of yourself." + +"Ashamed of _myself_?" demanded Tabitha Hall, in tones of supreme +contempt, turning her face full upon the speaker. "You'll not butter +your bread with that pot o' dripping, Edward Benden, if you please. +You're not fit to black my shoes, let alone Alice's, and I'm right +pleased for to tell you so." + +"Good even, Mistress Hall; 'tis time we were at home." + +"Got a home-truth more than you wanted, haven't you? Well, 'tis time +enough Alice was, so go your ways; but as where 'tis time you were, my +dainty master, that's the inside of Canterbury Gaol, or a worser place +if I could find it; and you've got my best hopes of seeing you there one +o' these days. Good den." + +The bay horse was admonished to use its best endeavours to reach +Briton's Mead without delay, and Mistress Tabitha, tongue and all, was +left behind on the road. + +"Eh, Mistress, but I'm fain to see you!" said Mary that evening, as she +and Alice stood in the pleasant glow of the kitchen fire. "I've had a +weary fortnight on't, with Master that contrarious, I couldn't do nought +to suit him, and Mistress Hall a-coming day by day to serve him wi' +vinegar and pepper. Saints give folks may be quiet now! We've had +trouble enough to last us this bout." + +"I am glad to come home, Mall," was the gentle answer. "But man is born +to trouble, and I scarce think we have seen an end of ours. God +learneth His servants by troubles." + +"Well, I wouldn't mind some folks being learned thus, but I'd fain see +other some have a holiday. What shall I dress for supper, Mistress? +There's a pheasant and a couple of puffins, and a platter of curds and +whey, and there's a sea-pie in the larder, and a bushel o' barberries." + +"That shall serve, Mall. We had best lay in some baconed herrings for +next fish-day; your master loves them." + +"Afore I'd go thinking what he loved, if I were you!" + +This last reflection on Mary's part was not allowed to be audible, but +it was very earnest notwithstanding. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +REPENTING HIS REPENTANCE. + +It was Saturday evening, and three days after Alice returned home. Mr +Benden sat in the chimney-corner, having just despatched a much more +satisfactory supper than Mary had ever allowed him to see during her +mistress's imprisonment; and Alice, her household duties finished for +the day, came and sat in the opposite corner with her work. + +The chimney-corner, at that date, was literally a chimney-corner. There +were no grates, and the fire of logs blazed on a wide square hearth, +around which, and inside the chimney, was a stone seat, comfortably +cushioned, and of course extremely warm. This was the usual evening +seat of the family, especially its elder and more honourable members. +How they contrived to stand the very close quarters to the blazing logs, +and how they managed never to set themselves on fire, must be left to +the imagination. + +Alice's work this evening was knitting. Stockings? Certainly not; the +idea of knitted stockings had not yet dawned. Stockings were still, as +they had been for centuries, cut out of woollen cloth, and sewn together +like any other garment. The woman who was to immortalise her name by +the brilliant invention of knitting stockings was then a little girl, +just learning to use her needles. What Alice was knitting this evening +was a soft woollen cap, intended for the comfort of Mr Benden's head. + +The inside of the head in question was by no means so comfortable as +Alice was preparing to make the outside. Mr Benden was pulled two +ways, and not knowing which to go, he kept trying each in turn and +retracing his steps. He wanted to make Alice behave herself; by which +he meant, conform to the established religion as Queen Mary had +Romanised it, and go silently to church without making insubordinate +objections to idolatry, or unpleasant remarks afterwards. This was only +to be attained, as it seemed to him, by sending her to prison. But, +also, he wanted to keep her out of prison, and to ensure the continuance +of those savoury suppers on which his comfort and contentment depended, +and the existence of which appeared to depend on her remaining at home. +How were the two to be harmoniously combined? Reflections of this kind +resulted in making Mr Benden a very uncomfortable man; and he was a man +with whom to be uncomfortable was to be unreasonable. + +"Alice!" he said at last, after a period of silent thought Alice looked +up from her work. + +"The morrow shall be Sunday." + +Alice assented to that indisputable fact. + +"You'll come to church with me?" + +For one instant Alice was silent. Her husband thought she was wavering +in her decision, but on that point he was entirely mistaken. She was +doing what Nehemiah did when he "prayed to the God of heaven" between +the King's question and his answer. Well she knew that to reply in the +negative might lead to reproach, prison, torture, even death. Yet that +was the path of God's commandments, and no flowery By-path Meadow must +tempt her to stray from it. In her heart she said to Him who had +redeemed her-- + + "Saviour, where'er Thy steps I see, + Dauntless, untired, I follow Thee!" + +and then she calmly answered aloud, "No, Edward, that I cannot do." + +"What, hath your taste of the Bishop's prison not yet persuaded you?" +returned he angrily. + +"Nay, nor never will." + +"Then you may look to go thither again, my mistress." + +"Very well, Edward." Her heart sank low, but she did not let him see +it. + +"You'll either go to church, or here you bide by yourself." + +"I thought to go and sit a while by Christie," she said. + +"You'll not go out of this house. I'll have no whisperings betwixt you +and those brethren of yours--always tuting in your ear, and setting you +up to all manner of mischief. You'd not be so troublesome if you hadn't +Roger Hall at your back--that's my belief. You may just keep away from +them; and if they keep not away from you, they'll maybe get what they +shall love little." + +Alice was silent for a moment. Then she said very quietly, "As you +will, Edward. I would only ask of you one favour--that I may speak once +with Roger, to tell him your pleasure." + +"I'll tell him fast enough when I see him. Nay, my mistress: you come +not round me o' that fashion. I'll not have him and you plotting to win +you away ere the catchpoll [constable] come to carry you hence. You'll +tarry here, without you make up your mind to be conformable, and go to +church." + +The idea of escape from the toils drawing close around her had never +entered Alice's brain till then. Now, for one moment, it surged in wild +excitement through her mind. The next moment it was gone. A voice +seemed to whisper to her-- + +"The cup which thy Father hath given thee, wilt thou not drink it?" + +Then she said tranquilly, "Be it as you will. Because I cannot rightly +obey you in one matter, I will be the more careful in all other to order +me as you desire." + +Mr Benden answered only by a sneer. He did not believe in meekness. +In his estimation, women who pretended to be meek and submissive were +only trying to beguile a man. In his heart he knew that this gentle +obedience was not natural to Alice, who had a high spirit and plenty of +fortitude; and instead of attributing it to the grace of God, which was +its real source, he set it down to a desire to cheat him in some +unrevealed fashion. + +He went to church, and Alice stayed at home as she was bidden. Finding +that she had done so, Mr Benden tried hard to discover that one of her +brothers had been to see her, sharply and minutely questioning Mary on +the subject. + +"I told him nought," said Mary afterwards to Mistress Tabitha: "and good +reason why--there was nought to tell. But if every man Jack of you had +been here, do you think I'd ha' let on to the likes o' him?" + +A very uncomfortable fortnight followed. Mr Benden was in the +exasperating position of the Persian satraps, when they could find no +occasion against this Daniel. He was angry with the Bishop for +releasing Alice at his own request, angry with the neighbouring squires, +who had promoted the release, angry with Roger Hall for not allowing +himself to be found visiting his sister, most angry with Alice for +giving him no reasonable cause for anger. The only person with whom he +was not angry was his unreasonable self. + +"If it wasn't for Mistress yonder, I should be in twenty minds not to +tarry here," said Mary to Mistress Tabitha, whom she overtook in the +road as both were coming home from market. "I'd as lief dwell in the +house with a grizzly bear as him. How she can put up with him that meek +as she do, caps me. Never gives him an ill word, no matter how many she +gets; and I do ensure you, Mistress Hall, his mouth is nothing pleasant. +And how do you all, I pray you? for it shall be a pleasure to my poor +mistress to hear the same. Fares little Mistress Christabel any +better?" + +"Never a whit, Mall; and I am at my wits' end to know what I shall next +do for her. She wearies for her Aunt Alice, and will not allow of me in +her stead." + +Mary felt privately but small astonishment at this. + +"I sent Friswith and Justine over to tarry with her, but she seemed to +have no list to keep them; they were somewhat too quick for her, I +reckon." By quick, Mistress Hall meant lively. "I'll tell you what, +Mary Banks--with all reverence I speak it, but I do think I could order +this world better than it is." + +"Think you so, Mistress Hall? And how would you go to do it?" + +"First business, I'd be rid of that Edward Benden. Then I'd set Alice +in her brother Roger's house, to look after him and Christabel. She'd +be as happy as the day is long, might she dwell with them, and had that +cantankerous dolt off her hands for good. Eh dear! but if Master Hall, +my father-in-law, that made Alice's match with Benden, but had it to do +o'er again, I reckon he'd think twice and thrice afore he gave her to +that toad. The foolishness o' folks is beyond belief. Why, she might +have had Master Barnaby Final, that was as decent a man as ever stepped +in leather--he wanted her: but Benden promised a trifle better in way of +money, and Master Hall, like an ass as he was, took up wi' him. There's +no end to men's doltishness [foolishness]. I'm homely, [plain-spoken] +you'll say, and that's true; I love so to be. I never did care for +dressing my words with all manner o' frippery, as if they were going to +Court. 'Tis a deal the best to speak plain, and then folks know what +you're after." + +When that uncomfortable fortnight came to an uncomfortable end, Mr +Benden went to church in a towering passion. He informed such of his +friends as dared to approach him after mass, that the perversity and +obduracy of his wife were beyond all endurance on his part. Stay +another week in his house she should not! He would be incalculably +indebted to any friend visiting Cranbrook, if he would inform the +Justices of her wicked ways, so that she might be safely lodged again in +gaol. An idle young man, more out of thoughtless mischief than from any +worse motive, undertook the task. + +When Alice Benden appeared the second time before the Bench, it was not +with ease-loving, good-natured Justice Roberts that she had to do. Sir +John Guildford was now the sitting magistrate, and he committed her to +prison with short examination. But the constable, whether from pity or +for some consideration of his own convenience, did not wish to take her; +and the administration of justice being somewhat lax, she was ordered by +that official to go home until he came for her. + +"Go home, forsooth!" cried Mr Benden in angry tones. "I'll not have +her at home!" + +"Then you may carry her yourself to Canterbury," returned the constable. +"I cannot go this week, and I have nobody to send." + +"Give me a royal farthing, and I will!" was the savage answer. + +The constable looked in his face to see if he meant it. Then he shook +his head, dipped his hand into his purse, and pulled out half-a-crown, +which he passed to Mr Benden, who pocketed this price of blood. Alice +had walked on down the Market Place, and was out of hearing. Mr Benden +strode after her, with the half-crown in his pocket. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +ALICE DECIDES FOR HERSELF. + +"Not that road, Mistress!" + +Alice had nearly reached the end of the Market Place, when her husband's +harsh call arrested her. She had been walking slowly on, so that he +might overtake her. On hearing this, she paused and waited for him to +come up. + +"That's not the way to Canterbury!" said Mr Benden, seizing her by the +wrist, and turning her round. + +"I thought we were going home," said Alice quietly. + +"Methinks, Mistress, there's somewhat wrong with your hearing this +morrow. Heard you not the Justice commit you to gaol?" + +"Truly I so did, Edward; but I heard also the constable to say that he +would come for me when it should stand with his conveniency, and I +reckoned it was thus settled." + +"Then you reckoned without your host. The constable hath given me money +to carry you thither without delay, and that will I with a very good +will." + +"Given you money!" + +Through six years of unhappy married life Alice Benden had experienced +enough of her husband's constant caprice and frequent brutality; but +this new development of it astonished her. She had not supposed that he +would descend so far as to take the price of innocent blood. The tone +of her voice, not indignant, but simply astonished, increased Mr +Benden's anger. The more gently she spoke, the harsher his voice grew. +This is not unusual, when a man is engaged in wilfully doing what he +knows to be wrong. + +"Verily, your hearing must be evil this morrow, Mistress!" he said, with +some wicked words to emphasise his remark. "The constable hath paid me +a royal farthing, and here it is"--patting his pocket as he spoke--"and +I have yet to earn it. Come, step out; we have no time to lose." + +Alice came to a sudden stand-still. + +"No, Edward," she said firmly. "You shall not carry me to gaol. I will +have a care of your character, though you little regard mine. I pray +you, unhand me, and I will go mine own self to the constable, and +entreat him to take me, as his office and duty are." [This part of the +story, however extraordinary, is pure fact.] + +In sheer amazement, Mr Benden's hand unloosed from Alice's arm; and +seizing her opportunity, she walked rapidly back to the Court House. +For a moment he stood considering what to do. He had little more +concern for his own reputation than for hers; but he felt that if he +followed her to the constable, he could scarcely avoid refunding that +half-crown, a thing he by no means desired to do. This reflection +decided him. He went quickly to the inn where he had left his horse, +mounted, and rode home, leaving Alice to her own devices, to walk home +or get taken to Canterbury in any way she could. + +The constable was not less astonished than Mr Benden. He was not +accustomed to receive visits from people begging to be taken to gaol. +He scratched his head, put it on one side and looked at Alice as if she +were a curiosity in an exhibition, then took off his cap again, and +scratched his head on the other side. + +"Well, to be sure!" he said at last. "To tell truth, my mistress, I +know not what to do with you. I cannot mine own self win this day to +Canterbury, and I have no place to tarry you here; nor have I any to +send withal save yon lad." + +He pointed as he spoke to his son, a lad of about twelve years old, who +sat on the bench by the Court House door, idly whistling, and throwing +up a pebble to catch it again. + +"Then, I pray you, Master Constable," said Alice eagerly, "send the lad +with me. I am loth to put you to this labour, but verily I am forced to +it; and methinks you may lightly guess I shall not run away from +custody." + +The constable laughed, but looked undecided. + +"In very deed," said he, "I see not wherefore you should not go home and +tarry there, till such time as I come to fetch you. But if it must be, +it must. I will go saddle mine horse, and he shall carry you to +Canterbury with George." + +While the constable went to saddle the horse, and Alice sat on the bench +waiting till it was ready, she fought with a very strong temptation. +Her husband would not receive her, so much she knew for a certainty; but +there were others who would. How welcome Roger would have made her! and +what a perfect haven of rest it would be, to live even for a few days +with him and Christabel! Her old father, too, at Frittenden, who had +told her not many days before, with tears in his eyes, how bitterly he +repented ever giving her to Edward Benden. It must be remembered that +in those days girls were never permitted to choose for themselves, +whether they wished to marry a man or not; the parents always decided +that point, and sometimes, as in this instance, they came to a sadly +mistaken decision. Alice had not chosen her husband, and he had never +given her any reason to love him; but she had done her best to be a good +wife, and even now she would not depart from it. The temptation was +sore, and she almost gave way under it. But the constant habit of +referring everything to God stood her in good stead in this emergency. +To go and stay with her brother, whose visits to her Mr Benden had +forbidden, would be sure to create a scandal, and to bring his name into +even worse repute than it was at present. She must either be at +Briton's Mead or in Canterbury Gaol; and just now the gaol was the only +possible place for her. Be it so! God would go with her into the +gaol--perhaps more certainly than into Roger's home. And the place +where she could be sure of having God with her was the place where Alice +chose and wished to be. + +Her heart sank heavily as she heard the great door of the gaol clang to +behind her. Alice was made of no materials more all-enduring than flesh +and blood. She could enjoy rest and pleasantness quite as well as other +people. And she wondered drearily, as she went down the steps into the +women's room, how long she was to stay in that unrestful and unpleasant +place. + +"Why, are you come again?" said one of the prisoners, as Alice descended +the steps. "What, you wouldn't conform? Well, no more would I." + +Alice recognised the face of a decent-looking woman who had come in the +same day that she was released, and in whom she had felt interested at +the time from her quiet, tidy appearance, though she had no opportunity +of speaking to her. She sat down now on the bench by her side. + +"Are you here for the like cause, friend? I mind your face, methinks, +though I spake not to you aforetime." + +"Ay, we row in the same boat," said the woman with a pleasant smile, +"and may as well make us known each to other. My name's Rachel Potkin, +and I come from Chart Magna: I'm a widow, and without children left to +me, for which I thank the Lord now, though I've fretted o'er it many a +time. Strange, isn't it, we find it so hard to remember that He sees +the end from the beginning, and so hard to believe that He is safe to do +the best for us?" + +"Ay, and yet not strange," said Alice with a sigh. "Life's weary work +by times." + +"It is so, my dear heart," answered Rachel, laying a sympathising hand +on Alice's. "But, bethink you, He's gone through it. Well, and what's +your name?" + +"My name is Alice Benden, from Staplehurst." + +"Are you a widow?" + +Had Tabitha been asked that question in the same circumstances, she +would not improbably have replied, "No; worse luck!" But Alice, as we +have seen, was tender over her husband's reputation. She only returned +a quiet negative. Rachel, whose eyes were keen, and ears ditto, heard +something in the tone, and saw something in the eyes, which Alice had no +idea was there to see and hear, that made her say to herself, "Ah, poor +soul! he's a bad sort, not a doubt of it." Aloud she only said,-- + +"And how long look you to be here--have you any notion?" + +Prisoners in our milder days are committed to prison for a certain term. +In those days there was no fixed limit. A man never knew for a +certainty, when he entered the prison, whether he would remain there for +ten days or for fifty years. He could only guess from appearances how +long it might be likely to be. + +"Truly, friend, that know I not. God knoweth." + +"Well said, Mistress Benden. Let us therefore give thanks, and take our +hearts to us." + +Just then the gaoler came up to them. + +"Birds of a feather, eh?" said he, with not unkindly humour. For a +gaoler, he was not a hard man. "Mistress Benden, your allowance is +threepence by the day--what shall I fetch you?" + +The prisoners were permitted to buy their own food through the prison +officials, up to the value of their daily allowance. Alice considered a +moment. + +"A pennyworth of bread, an' it like you, Master; a farthing's worth of +beef; a farthing's worth of eggs; and a pennyworth of ale. The +halfpenny, under your good pleasure, I will keep in hand." + +Does the reader exclaim, Was that the whole day's provision? Indeed it +was, and a very fair day's provision too. For this money Alice would +receive six rolls or small loaves of bread, a pound of beef, two eggs, +and a pint of ale,--quite enough for supper and breakfast. The ale was +not so much as it seems, for they drank ale at every meal, even +breakfast, only invalids using milk. To drink water was thought a +dreadful hardship, and they had no tea or coffee. + +The gaoler nodded and departed. + +"Look you, Mistress Benden," said Rachel Potkin, "I have thought by +times to try, being here in this case, on how little I could live, so as +to try mine endurance, and fit me so to do if need were. Shall we essay +it together, think you? Say I well?" + +"Very well, Mistress Potkin; I were fain to make the trial. How much is +your allowance by the day?" + +"The like of yours--threepence." + +"We will try on how little we can keep in fair health," said Alice with +a little laugh, "and save our money for time of more need. On what +shall we do it, think you?" + +"Why, I reckon we may look to do it on fourpence betwixt us." + +"Oh, surely!" said Alice. "Threepence, I well-nigh think." + +While this bargain was being made, Mr Benden sat down to supper, a pork +pie standing before him, a dish of toasted cheese to follow, and a +frothed tankard of ale at his elbow. Partly owing to her mistress's +exhortations, Mary had changed her tactics, and now sought to mollify +her master by giving him as good a supper as she knew how to serve. But +Mr Benden was hard to please this evening. "The pork is as tough as +leather," he declared; "the cheese is no better than sawdust, and the +ale is flat as ditch-water." And he demanded of Mary, in rasping tones, +if she expected such rubbish to agree with him? + +"Ah!" said Mary to herself as she shut the door on him, "'tis your +conscience, Master, as doesn't agree with you." + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +TRYING EXPERIMENTS. + +Old Grandfather Hall had got a lift in a cart from Frittenden, and came +to spend the day with Roger and Christabel. It was a holy-day, for +which cause Roger was at home, for in those times a holy-day was always +a holiday, and the natural result was that holiday-making soon took the +place of keeping holy. Roger's leisure days were usually spent by the +side of his little Christie. + +"Eh, Hodge, my lad!" said Grandfather Hall, shaking his white head, as +he sat leaning his hands upon his silver-headed staff, "but 'tis a +strange dispensation this! Surely I never looked for such as this in +mine old age. But 'tis my blame--I do right freely confess 'tis my +blame. I reckoned I wrought for the best; I meant nought save my maid's +happiness: but I see now I had better have been content with fewer of +the good things of this life for the child, and have taken more thought +for an husband that feared God. Surely I meant well,--yet I did evil; I +see it now." + +"Father," said Roger, with respectful affection, "I pray you, remember +that God's strange dispensations be at times the best things He hath to +give us, and that of our very blunders He can make ladders to lift us +nearer to Himself." + +"Ay, lad, thou hast the right; yet must I needs be sorry for my poor +child, that suffereth for my blunder. Hodge, I would thou wouldst visit +her." + +"That will I, Father, no further than Saint Edmund's Day, the which you +wot is next Tuesday. Shall I bear her any message from you?" + +Old Mr Hall considered an instant; then he put his hand into his purse, +and with trembling fingers pulled out a new shilling. + +"Bear her this," said he; "and therewithal my blessing, and do her to +wit that I am rarely troubled for her trouble. I cannot say more, lest +it should seem to reflect upon her husband: but I would with all mine +heart--" + +"Well, Nell!" said a voice in the passage outside which everybody knew. +"Your master's at home, I count, being a holy-day? The old master here +likewise?--that's well. There, take my pattens, that's a good maid. +I'll tarry a bit to cheer up the little mistress." + +"Oh dear!" said Christabel in a whisper, "Aunt Tabitha won't cheer me a +bit; she'll make me boil over. And I'm very near it now; I'm sure I +must be singing! If she'd take me off and put me on the hob! Aunt +Alice would, if it were she." + +"Good-morrow!" said Aunt Tabitha's treble tones, which allowed no one +else's voice to be heard at the same time. "Give you good-morrow, +Father, and the like to thee, Christie. Well, Roger, I trust you're in +a forgiving mood _this_ morrow? You'll have to hammer at it a while, I +reckon, afore you can make out that Edward Benden's an innocent cherub. +I'd as lief wring that man's neck as eat my dinner!--and I mean to tell +him so, too, afore I do it." + +Aunt Tabitha left her sentence grammatically ambiguous, but practically +lucid enough to convey a decided impression that a rod for Mr Benden +was lying in tolerably sharp pickle. + +"Daughter," said old Mr Hall, "methinks you have but a strange notion +of forgiveness, if you count that it lieth in a man's persuading himself +that the offender hath done him no wrong. To forgive as God forgiveth, +is to feel and know the wrong to the full, and yet, notwithstanding the +same, to pardon the offender." + +"And in no wise to visit his wrong upon him? Nay, Father; that'd not +a-pay me, I warrant you." + +"That a man should escape the natural and temporal consequences of his +evil doing, daughter, is not the way that God forgives. He rarely +remits that penalty: more often he visits it to the full. But he loveth +the offender through all, and seeks to purge away his iniquity and +cleanse his soul." + +"Well-a-day! I can fashion to love Edward Benden that way," said +Tabitha, perversely misinterpreting her father-in-law's words. "I'll +mix him a potion 'll help to cleanse his disorder, you'll see. Bitters +be good for sick folks; and he's grievous sick. I met Mall a-coming; +she saith he snapped her head right off yester-even." + +"Oh dear!" said literal Christie. "Did she get it put on again, Aunt +Tabitha, before you saw her?" + +"It was there, same as common," replied Tabitha grimly. + +"He's not a happy man, or I mistake greatly," remarked Roger Hall. + +"He'll not be long, if I can win at him," announced Tabitha, more grimly +still. "Good lack! there he is, this minute, crossing the Second Acre +Close--see you him not? Nell, my pattens--quick! I'll have at him +while I may!" + +And Tabitha flew. + +Christabel, who had lifted her head to watch the meeting, laid it down +again upon her cushions with a sigh. "Aunt Tabitha wearies me, Father," +she said, answering Roger's look of sympathetic concern, "She's like a +blowy wind, that takes such a deal out of you. I wish she'd come at me +a bit quieter. Father, don't you think the angels are very quiet folks? +I couldn't think they'd come at me like Aunt Tabby." + +"The angels obey the Lord, my Christie, and the Lord is very gentle. He +`knoweth our frame,' and `remembereth that we are but dust.'" + +"I don't feel much like dust," said Christie meditatively. "I feel more +like strings that somebody had pulled tight till it hurt. But I do wish +Aunt Tabitha would obey the Lord too, Father. I can't think _she_ knows +our frame, unless hers is vastly unlike mine." + +"I rather count it is, Christie," said Roger. + +Mr Benden had come out for his airing in an unhappy frame of mind, and +his interview with Tabitha sent him home in a worse. Could he by an +effort of will have obliterated the whole of his recent performances, he +would gladly have done it; but as this was impossible, he refused to +confess himself in the wrong. He was not going to humble himself, he +said gruffly--though there was nobody to hear him--to that spiteful cat +Tabitha. As to Alice, he was at once very angry with her, and very much +put out by her absence. It was all her fault, he said again. Why could +she not behave herself at first, and come to church like a reasonable +woman, and as everybody else did? If she had stood out for a new dress, +or a velvet hood, he could have understood it; but these new-fangled +nonsensical fancies nobody could understand. Who could by any +possibility expect a sensible man to give in to such rubbish? + +So Mr Benden reasoned himself into the belief that he was an ill-used +martyr, Alice a most unreasonable woman, and Tabitha a wicked fury. +Having no principles himself, that any one else should have them was +both unnecessary and absurd in his eyes. He simply could not imagine +the possibility of a woman caring so much for the precepts or the glory +of God, that she was ready for their sakes to brave imprisonment, +torture, or death. + +Meanwhile Alice and her fellow-prisoner, Rachel Potkin, were engaged in +trying their scheme of living on next to nothing. We must not forget +that even poor people, at that time, lived much better than now, so far +as eating is concerned. The Spanish noblemen who came over with Queen +Mary's husband were greatly astonished to find the English peasants, as +they said, "living in hovels, and faring like princes." The poorest +then never contented themselves with plain fare, such as we think tea +and bread, which are now nearly all that many poor people see from one +year's end to another. Meat, eggs, butter, and much else were too cheap +to make it necessary. + +So Alice and Rachel arranged their provisions thus: every two days they +sent for two pounds of mutton, which cost some days a farthing, and some +a halfpenny; twelve little loaves of bread, at 2 pence; a pint and a +half of claret, or a quart of ale, cost 2 pence more. The halfpenny, +which was at times to spare, they spent on four eggs, a few rashers of +bacon, or a roll of butter, the price of which was fourpence-halfpenny +the gallon. Sometimes it went for salt, an expensive article at that +time. Now and then they varied their diet from mutton to beef; but of +this they could get only half the quantity for their halfpenny. On +fish-days, then rigidly observed, of course they bought fish instead of +meat. For a fortnight they kept up this practice, which to them seemed +far more of a hardship than it would to us; they were accustomed to a +number of elaborate dishes, with rich sauces, in most of which wine was +used; and mere bread and meat, or even bread and butter, seemed very +poor, rough eating. Perhaps, if our ancestors had been content with +simpler cookery, their children in the present day would have had less +trouble with doctors' bills. + +Roger Hall visited his sister, as he had said, on Saint Edmund's Day, +the sixteenth of November. He found her calm, and even cheerful, very +much pleased with her father's message and gift, and concerned that Mary +should follow her directions to make Mr Benden comfortable. That she +forgave him she never said in words, but all her actions said it +strongly. Roger had to curb his own feelings as he promised to take the +message to this effect which Alice sent to Mary. But Alice could pretty +well see through his face into his heart, and into Mary's too; and she +looked up with a smile as she added a few words:-- + +"Tell Mall," she said, "that if she love me, and would have me yet again +at home, methinks this were her wisest plan." + +Roger nodded, and said no more. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +TABITHA'S BASKET. + +Of all the persons concerned in our story at this juncture, the least +unhappy was Alice Benden in Canterbury Gaol, and the most miserable was +Edward Benden at Briton's Mead. His repentance was longer this time in +coming, but his suffering and restlessness certainly were not so. He +tried all sorts of ways to dispel them in vain. First, he attempted to +lose himself in his library, for he was the rich possessor of twenty-six +volumes, eight of which were romances of chivalry, wherein valiant +knights did all kinds of impossibilities at the behest of fair damsels, +rescued enchanted princesses, slew two-headed giants, or wandered for +months over land and sea in quest of the Holy Grail, which few of them +were sufficiently good even to see, and none to bring back to Arthur's +Court. But Mr Benden found that the adventures of Sir Isumbras, or the +woes of the Lady Blanchefleur, were quite incapable of making him forget +the very disagreeable present. Then he tried rebuilding and newly +furnishing a part of his house; but that proved even less potent to +divert his thoughts than the books. Next he went into company, laughed +and joked with empty-headed people, played games, sang, and amused +himself in sundry ways, and came home at night, to feel more solitary +and miserable than before. Then, in desperation, he sent for the barber +to bleed him, for our forefathers had a curious idea that unless they +were bled once or twice a year, especially in spring, they would never +keep in good health. We perhaps owe some of our frequent poverty of +blood to that fancy. The only result of this process was to make Mr +Benden feel languid and weak, which was not likely to improve his +spirits. Lastly, he went to church, and was shriven--namely, confessed +his sins, and was absolved by the priest. He certainly ought to have +been happy after that, but somehow the happiness would not come. He did +not know what to do next. + +All these performances had taken some time. Christmas came and passed-- +Christmas, with its morning mass and evening carols, its nightly waits, +its mummers or masked itinerant actors, its music and dancing, its games +and sports, its plum-porridge, mince-pies, and wassail-bowl. There were +none of these things for Alice Benden in her prison, save a mince-pie, +to which she treated herself and Rachel: and there might as well have +been none for her husband, for he was unable to enjoy one of them. The +frosts and snows of January nipped the blossoms, and hardened the roads, +and made it difficult work for Roger Hall to get from Staplehurst to +Canterbury: yet every holy-day his pleasant face appeared at the window +of the gaol, and he held a short sympathising chat with Alice. The +gaoler and the Bishop's officers came to know him well. It is a wonder, +humanly speaking, that he was never arrested during these frequent +visits: but God kept him. + +"Good den, Alice," he said as he took leave of her on the evening of +Saint Agnes' Day, the twenty-first of January. "I shall scarce, +methinks, win hither again this month; but when our Lady Day next +cometh, I will essay to see thee. Keep a good heart, my sister, and God +be with thee." + +"I do so, Roger," replied Alice cheerily. "Mistress Potkin here is a +rare comfort unto me; and God is in Canterbury Gaol no less than at +Staplehurst. I would fain, 'tis true, have been able to come and +comfort Christie; but the Lord can send her a better help than mine. +Give my loving commendations to the sweet heart, and may God reward thee +for the brave comfort thou hast been to me all this winter! Farewell." + +The next day, another and a less expected visitor presented himself. A +tired bay horse drooped its weary head at the door of the Bishop's +Palace, and a short, thick-set, black-haired man, with bushy eyebrows, +inquired if he might be allowed to speak with his Lordship. The Bishop +ordered him to be admitted. + +"Well, and what would you, my son?" he asked condescendingly of the +applicant. + +"An't like your Lordship, my name is Edward Benden, of Staplehurst, and +I do full reverently seek the release of my wife, that is in your gaol +for heresy." + +The Bishop shook his head. He had before now held more than one +interview with Alice, and had found that neither promises nor threats +had much weight with her. Very sternly he answered--"She is an +obstinate heretic, and will not be reformed. I cannot deliver her." + +"My Lord," responded Mr Benden, "she has a brother, Roger Hall, that +resorteth unto her. If your Lordship could keep him from her, she would +turn; for he comforteth her, giveth her money, and persuadeth her not to +return." + +"Well!" said the Bishop. "Go home, good son, and I will see what I can +do." [This conversation is historical.] + +If Mr Benden had not been in a brown study as he went into the Chequers +to "sup his four-hours"--in modern phrase, to have his tea--and to give +his horse a rest and feed before returning home, he would certainly have +recognised two people who were seated in a dark corner of the inn +kitchen, and had come there for the same purpose. The man kept his hat +drawn over his face, and slunk close into the corner as though he were +anxious not to be seen. The woman sat bolt upright, an enormous, full +basket on the table at her right hand, and did not appear to care in the +least whether she were seen or not. + +"Is yon maid ever a-coming with the victuals?" she inquired in a rather +harsh treble voice. + +"Do hush, Tabby!" said the man in the most cautious of whispers. "Didst +not see him a moment since?" + +"Who? Dick o' Dover?" + +"Tabitha!" was the answer in a voice of absolute agony. "Do, for +mercy's sake!--Edward." + +The last word was barely audible a yard away. + +Mrs Hall turned round in the coolest manner, and gazed about till she +caught sight of her brother-in-law, who happened to have his back to the +corner in which they were seated, and was watching two men play at +dominoes while he waited for his cakes and ale. + +"Humph!" she said, turning back again. "Thomas Hall, I marvel if there +be this even an hare in any turnip-field in Kent more 'feared of the +hounds than you.--Well, Joan, thou hast ta'en thy time o'er these +cakes." + +The last remark was addressed to the waitress, who replied with an +amused smile-- + +"An't like you, Mistress, my name's Kate." + +"Well said, so thou bringest us some dainty cates [delicacies].--Now, +Tom, help yourself, and pass that tankard." + +"Tabitha, he'll hear!" + +"Let him hear. I care not an almond if he hear every word I say. He'll +hear o' t'other side his ears if he give us any trouble." + +Mr Benden had heard the harsh treble voice, and knew it. But he was as +comically anxious as Thomas Hall himself that he and the fair Tabitha +should not cross each other's path that evening. To run away he felt to +be an undignified proceeding, and if Tabitha had set her mind on +speaking to him, utterly useless. Accordingly, he kept his back +carefully turned to her, and professed an absorbing interest in the +dominoes. + +The cakes and ale having received due attention, Mr Hall paid the bill, +and slunk out of the door, with the stealthy air and conscious face of a +man engaged in the commission of a crime. Mrs Hall, on the contrary, +took up her big basket with the open, leisurely aspect of virtue which +had nothing to fear, and marched after her husband out of the Chequers. + +"Now then, Thomas Hall, whither reckon you to be a-going?" she inquired, +before she was down the steps of the inn, in a voice which must have +penetrated much further than to the ears of Mr Benden in the kitchen. +"Not that way, numskull!--to the left." + +Poor Thomas, accustomed to these conjugal amenities, turned meekly round +and trotted after his Tabitha, who with her big basket took the lead, +and conducted him in a few minutes to the door of the gaol. + +"Good den, Master Porter! We be some'at late for visitors, but needs +must. Pray you, may we have speech of Mistress Benden, within here?" + +The porter opened the wicket, and they stepped inside. + +"You're nigh on closing time," said he. "Only half-an-hour to spare." + +"I can do my business in half-an-hour, I thank you," replied Tabitha, +marching across the courtyard. + +The porter, following them, unlocked the outer door, and locked it again +after them. To the gaoler who now received them they repeated their +errand, and he produced another key, wherewith he let them into the +women's prison. Alice and Rachel were talking together in the corner of +the room, and Tabitha set down herself and her basket by the side of her +sister-in-law. + +"Good even, Alice!" she said, leaving her husband to see after himself, +as she generally did. "We're a bit late, but better late than never, in +especial when the ship carrieth a good cargo. Here have I brought you a +couple of capons, a roll of butter, a jar of honey, and another of +marmalade, a piece of a cheese, a goose-pie baken with lard, a pot o' +green ginger, and nutmegs. I filled up with biscuits and reasons." + +By which last word Mistress Tabitha meant to say that she had filled the +interstices of her basket, not with intelligent motives, but with dried +grapes. + +"I con you right hearty thanks, Sister Tabitha," said Alice warmly, "for +so rich provision! Verily, but it shall make a full pleasant change in +our meagre diet; for my friend here, that hath been a mighty comfort +unto me, must share in all my goods. 'Tis marvellous kindly in you to +have thus laden yourself for our comforts. Good even, Tom! I am fain +to behold thee. I trust you and all yours be well?" + +"Maids lazy, Father 'plaining of pains in his bones, Christabel as is +common, Roger well, Mary making o' candles," replied Tabitha rapidly. +"As for yon ill-doing loon of a husband of yours, he's eating cakes and +supping ale at the Chequers Inn." + +"Edward here!" repeated Alice in surprised tones. + +"Was when we came forth," said Tabitha, who while she talked was busy +unlading her basket. "Hope your lockers 'll hold 'em. Time to close-- +good even! No room for chatter, Thomas Hall--say farewell, and march!" + +And almost without allowing poor Thomas a moment to kiss his imprisoned +sister, and beg her to "keep her heart up, and trust in the Lord," +Mistress Tabitha swept him out of the door in front of her, and with the +big basket on her arm, lightened of its savoury contents, marched him +off to the Chequers for the horse. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +PANDORA. + +In the projecting oriel window of a very pleasant sitting-room, whose +inside seat was furnished with blue velvet cushions, sat a girl of +seventeen years, dressed in velvet of the colour then known as +lion-tawny, which was probably a light yellowish-brown. It was trimmed, +or as she would have said, turned up, with satin of the same colour, was +cut square, but high, at the throat, and finished by gold embroidery +there and on the cuffs. A hood of dark blue satin covered her head, and +came down over the shoulders, set round the front with small pearls in a +golden frame shaped somewhat like a horseshoe. She was leaning her head +upon one hand, and looking out of the window with dreamy eyes that +evidently saw but little of the landscape, and thinking so intently that +she never perceived the approach of another girl, a year or two her +senior, and similarly attired, but with a very different expression in +her lively, mischievous eyes. The hands of the latter came down on the +shoulders of the meditative maiden so suddenly that she started and +almost screamed. Then, looking up, a faint smile parted her lips, and +the intent look left her eyes. + +"Oh! is it you, Gertrude?" + +"Dreaming, as usual, Pan? Confess now, that you wist not I was in the +chamber." + +"I scarce did, True." The eyes were growing grave and thoughtful again. + +"Sweet my lady!--what conneth she, our Maiden Meditation? Doth she +essay to find the philosopher's stone?--or be her thoughts of the true +knight that is to bend low at her feet, and whisper unto her some day +that he loveth none save her? I would give a broad shilling for the +first letter of his name." + +"You must give it, then, to some other than me. Nay, True; my fantasies +be not of thy lively romancing sort. I was but thinking on a little +maid that I saw yester-even, in our walk with Aunt Grena." + +"What, that dainty little conceit that came up to the house with her +basket of needlework that her mother had wrought for Aunt Grena? She +was a pretty child, I allow." + +"Oh no, not Patience Bradbridge. My little maid was elder than she, and +lay on a day-bed within a compassed window. I marvelled who she were." + +"Why, you surely mean that poor little whitefaced Christabel Hall! +She's not pretty a whit--without it be her hair; she hath fair hair that +is not over ill. But I marvel you should take a fantasy to her; there +is nought taking about the child." + +"You alway consider whether folks be pretty, Gertrude." + +"Of course I do. So doth everybody." + +"I don't." + +"Oh, you! You are not everybody, Mistress Dorrie." + +"No, I am but one maid. But I would fain be acquaint with that child. +What said you were her name? All seems strange unto me, dwelling so +long with Grandmother; I have to make acquaintance with all the folks +when I return back home." + +"Christabel Hall is her name; she is daughter to Roger Hall, the manager +at our works, and he and she dwell alone; she hath no mother." + +"No mother, hath she?--and very like none to mother her. Ah, now I +conceive her looks." + +"I marvel what you would be at, Pandora. Why, you and I have no mother, +but I never mewled and moaned thereafter." + +"No, Gertrude, I think you never did." + +"Aunt Grena hath seen to all we lacked, hath not she?" + +"Aunt is very kind, and I cast no doubt she hath seen to all you +lacked." Pandora's tone was very quiet, with a faint pathos in it. + +"Why, Dorrie, what lacked you that I did not?" responded Gertrude, +turning her laughing face towards her sister. + +"Nothing that I could tell you, True. What manner of man is this Roger +Hall?" + +"A right praisable man, Father saith, if it were not for one disorder in +him, that he would fain see amended: and so being, Dorrie, I scarce +think he shall be a-paid to have you much acquaint with his little maid, +sithence he hath very like infected her with his foolish opinions." + +"What, is he of the new learning?" + +Gertrude failed to see the sudden light which shot into Pandora's eyes, +as she dropped them on the cushion in the endeavour to smooth an +entangled corner of the fringe. + +"That, and no less. You may guess what Father and Aunt reckon thereof." + +"Father was that himself, Gertrude, only five years gone, when I went to +dwell in Lancashire." + +"Pan, my dear heart, I do pray thee govern thy tongue. It maybe +signifies but little what folks believe up in the wilds and forests +yonder, and in especial amongst the witches: but bethink thee, we be +here within a day's journey or twain of the Court, where every man's +eyes and ears be all alive to see and hear news. What matters it what +happed afore Noah went into the ark? We be all good Catholics now, at +the least. And, Pan, we desire not to be burned; at all gates, I don't, +if you do." + +"Take your heart to you, sister; my tongue shall do you none ill. I can +keep mine own counsel, and have ere now done the same." + +"Then, if you be so discreet, you can maybe be trusted to make +acquaintance with Christie. But suffer not her nor Roger to win you +from the true Catholic faith." + +"I think there is little fear," said Pandora quietly. + +The two sisters were nieces of Mr Justice Roberts, and daughters of Mr +Roberts of Primrose Croft, who was owner of the works of which Roger +Hall was manager. Theirs was one of the aristocratic houses of the +neighbourhood, and themselves a younger branch of an old county family +which dated from the days of Henry the First. The head of that house, +Mr Roberts of Glassenbury, would almost have thought it a condescension +to accept a peerage. The room in which the girls sat was handsomely +furnished according to the tastes of the time. A curtain of rich shot +silk--"changeable sarcenet" was the name by which they knew it--screened +off the window end of it at pleasure; a number of exceedingly +stiff-looking chairs, the backs worked in tapestry, were ranged against +the wall opposite the fire; a handsome chair upholstered in blue velvet +stood near the fireplace. Velvet stools were here and there about the +room, and cushions, some covered with velvet, some with crewel-work, +were to be seen in profusion. They nearly covered the velvet settle, at +one side of the fire, and they nestled in soft, plumy, inviting fashion, +into the great Flanders chair on the other side. In one corner was "a +chest of coffins"--be not dismayed, gentle reader! the startling phrase +only meant half-a-dozen boxes, fitting inside each other in graduated +sizes. Of course there was a cupboard, and equally of course the +white-washed walls were hung with tapestry, wherein a green-kirtled +Diana, with a ruff round her neck and a farthingale of sufficient +breadth, drew a long arrow against a stately stag of ten, which, short +of outraging the perspective, she could not possibly hit. A door now +opened in the corner of the room, and admitted a lady of some forty +years, tall and thin, and excessively upright, having apparently been +more starched in her mind and carriage than in her dress. Pandora +turned to her. + +"Aunt Grena, will you give me leave to make me acquainted with Master +Hall's little maid--he that manageth the cloth-works?" + +Aunt Grena pursed up her lips and looked doubtful; but as that was her +usual answer to any question which took her by surprise, it was not +altogether disheartening. + +"I will consult my brother," she said stiffly. + +Mr Roberts, who was a little of the type of his brother the Justice, +having been consulted, rather carelessly replied that he saw no reason +why the maid should not amuse herself with the child if she wished it. +Leave was accordingly granted. But Aunt Grena thought it necessary to +add to it a formidable lecture, wherein Pandora was warned of all +possible and impossible dangers that might accrue from the satisfaction +of her desire, embellished with awful anecdotes of all manner of +misfortunes which had happened to girls who wanted or obtained their own +way. + +"And methinks," concluded Mistress Grena, "that it were best I took you +myself to Master Hall's house, there to see the maid, and make sure that +she shall give you no harm." + +Gertrude indulged herself in a laugh when her aunt had departed. + +"Aunt Grena never can bear in mind," she said, "that you and I, Pan, are +above six years old. Why, Christie Hall was a babe in the cradle when I +was learning feather-stitch." + +"Laugh not at Aunt Grena, True. She is the best friend we have, and the +kindliest." + +"Bless you, Dorrie! I mean her no ill, dear old soul! Only I believe +she never was a young maid, and she thinks we never shall be. And I'll +tell you, there was some mistake made in my being the elder of us. It +should have been you, for you are the soberer by many a mile." + +Pandora smiled. "I have dwelt with Grandmother five years," she said. + +"Well, and haven't I dwelt with Aunt Grena well-nigh nineteen years? +No, Pan, that's not the difference. It lieth in the nature of us two. +I am a true Roberts, and you take after our mother's folks." + +"Maybe so. Will you have with us, True, to Master Hall's?" + +"I? Gramercy, no! I'm none so fond of sick childre." + +"Christie is not sick, so to speak, Bridget saith; she is but lame and +weak." + +"Well, then she is sick, so _not_ to speak! She alway lieth of a couch, +and I'll go bail she whines and mewls enough o'er it." + +"Nay, Bridget saith she is right full of cheer, and most patient, +notwithstanding her maladies. And, True, the poor little maid is alone +the whole day long, save on holy-days, when only her father can be with +her. Wouldst thou not love well to bring some sunshine into her little +life?" + +"Did I not tell you a minute gone, Pandora Roberts, that you and I were +cast in different moulds? No, my Minorite Sister, I should not love +it--never a whit. I want my sunshine for mine own life--not to brighten +sick maids and polish up poor childre. Go your ways, O best of +Pandoras, and let me be. I'll try over the step of that new minuet +while you are gone." + +"And would you really enjoy that better than being kind to a sick child? +O True, you do astonish me!" + +"I should. I never was cut out for a Lady Bountiful. I could not do +it, Dorrie--not for all the praises and blessings you expect to get." + +"Gertrude, _did_ you think--" + +"An't like you, Mistress Pandora, the horses be at the door, and +Mistress Grena is now full ready." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +A NEW FRIEND FOR CHRISTABEL. + +"O Aunt Tabitha! have you and Uncle Thomas been to Canterbury? and did +you really see dear Aunt Alice? How looks she? and what said she? I do +want to know, and Father never seems to see, somehow, the things I want. +Of course I would not--he's the best father that ever was, Aunt +Tabitha, and the dearest belike; but somehow, he seems not to _see_ +things--" + +"He's a man," said Aunt Tabitha, cutting short Christabel's laboured +explanation; "and men never do see, child. They haven't a bit of +gumption, and none so much wit. Ay, we've been; but we were late, and +hadn't time to tarry. Well, she looks white belike, as folks alway do +when they be shut up from the air; but she seems in good health, and in +good cheer enough. She was sat of the corner, hard by a woman that +hath, said she, been a good friend unto her, and a right comfort, and +who, said she, must needs have a share in all her good things." + +"Oh, I'm glad she has a friend in that dreadful place! What's her name, +Aunt, an' it like you?" + +"Didn't say." + +"But I would like to pray for her," said Christie with a disappointed +look; "and I can't say, `Bless that woman.'" + +"Why not?" said Aunt Tabitha bluntly. "Art 'feared the Lord shall be +perplexed to know which woman thou meanest, and go and bless the wrong +one?" + +"Why, no! He'll know, of course. And, please, has Aunt Alice a cushion +for her back?" + +Tabitha laughed curtly. "Cushions grow not in prisons, child. Nay, +she's never a cushion." + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" said Christie mournfully. "And I've got three! I wish +I could give her one of mine." + +"Well, I scarce reckon she'd have leave to keep it, child. Howbeit, +thou canst pray thy father to make inquiration." + +"Oh ay! I'll pray Father to ask. Thank you, Aunt Tabitha. Was Aunt +Alice very, very pleased to see you?" + +"Didn't ask her. She said some'at none so far off it. Dear heart! but +what ado is here?" + +And Tabitha rose to examine the details of the "ado." Two fine horses +stood before the gate, each laden with saddle and pillion, the former +holding a serving-man, and the latter a lady. From a third horse the +rider, also a man-servant in livery, had alighted, and he was now coming +to help the ladies down. They were handsomely dressed, in a style which +showed them to be people of some consequence: for in those days the +texture of a woman's hood, the number of her pearls, and the breadth of +her lace and fur were carefully regulated by sumptuary laws, and woe +betide the esquire's daughter, or the knight's wife, who presumed to +poach on the widths reserved for a Baroness! + +"Bless us! whoever be these?" inquired Tabitha of nobody in particular. +"I know never a one of their faces. Have they dropped from the clouds?" + +"Perhaps it's a mistake," suggested Christie. + +"Verily, so I think," rejoined her aunt. "I'd best have gone myself to +them--I'm feared Nell shall scarce--" + +But Nell opened the door with the astonishing announcement of--"Mistress +Grena Holland, and Mistress Pandora Roberts, to visit the little +mistress." + +If anything could have cowed or awed Tabitha Hall, it would certainly +have been that vision of Mistress Grena, in her dress of dark blue +velvet edged with black fur, and her tawny velvet hood with its gold-set +pearl border. She recognised instinctively the presence of a woman +whose individuality was almost equal to her own, with the education and +bearing of a gentlewoman added to it. Christabel was astonished at the +respectful way in which Aunt Tabitha rose and courtesied to the +visitors, told them who she was, and that the master of the house was +away at his daily duties. + +"Ay," said Mistress Grena gently, "we wot that Master Hall must needs +leave his little maid much alone, for my brother, Master Roberts of +Primrose Croft, is owner of the works whereof he is manager." + +This announcement brought a yet lower courtesy from Tabitha, who now +realised that members of the family of Roger Hall's master had come to +visit Christabel. + +"And as young folks love well to converse together apart from their +elders, and my niece's discretion may well be trusted," added Mistress +Grena, "if it serve you, Mistress Hall, we will take our leave. Which +road go you?" + +"I will attend you, my mistress, any road, if that stand with your +pleasure." + +"In good sooth, I would gladly speak with you a little. I have an +errand to Cranbrook, and if it answer with your conveniency, then shall +you mount my niece's horse, and ride with me thither, I returning hither +for her when mine occasion serveth." + +Tabitha having intimated that she could make this arrangement very well +suit her convenience, as she wished to go to Cranbrook some day that +week, the elder women took their departure, and Pandora was left alone +with Christie. + +Some girls would have been very shy of one another in these +circumstances, but these two were not thus troubled; Pandora, because +she was too well accustomed to society, and Christie because she was too +much excited by the unwonted circumstances. Pandora drew Christie out +by a few short, well-directed questions; and many minutes had not passed +before she knew much of the child's lonely life and often sorrowful +fancies. + +"Father's the best father that ever was, or ever could be!" said +Christie lovingly: "but look you, Mistress, he is bound to leave me--he +can't tarry with me. And I've no sisters, and no mother; and Aunt +Tabitha can't be here often, and Aunt Alice is--away at present." + +"Thou art somewhat like me, little Christie, for though I have one +sister, I also have no mother." + +"Do you miss her, Mistress?" asked Christie, struck by the pathos of +Pandora's tone. + +"Oh, so much!" The girl's eyes filled with tears. + +"I can't remember my mother," said Christie simply. "She was good, +everybody says; but I can't recollect her a whit. I was only a baby +when she went to Heaven, to live with the Lord Jesus." + +"Ah, but I do remember mine," was Pandora's answer. "My sister was +thirteen, and I was eleven, when our mother died; and I fretted so much +for her, they were feared I might go into a waste, and I was sent away +for five years, to dwell with my grandmother, well-nigh all the length +of England off. I have but now come home. So thou seest I can feel +sorry for lonesome folks, little Christie." + +Christie's face flushed slightly, and an eager, wistful look came into +her eyes. She was nerving herself to make a confession that she had +never made before, even to her father or her Aunt Alice. She did not +pause to ask herself why she should choose Pandora as its recipient; she +only felt it possible to say it to the one, and too hard to utter it to +the others. + +"It isn't only lonesomeness, and that isn't the worst, either. But +everybody says that folks that love God ought to work for Him, and I +can't do any work. It doth Him no good that I should work in coloured +silks and wools, and the like; and I can't do nothing else: so I can't +work for God. I would I could do something. I wouldn't care how hard +it was. Justine--that's one of my cousins--grumbles because she says +her work is so hard; but if I could work, I wouldn't grumble, however +hard it was--if only it were work for God." + +"Little Christie," said Pandora softly, stroking the fair hair, "shall I +tell thee a secret?" + +"If it please you, Mistress." The answer did not come with any +eagerness; Christie thought the confession, which had cost her +something, was to be shelved as a matter of no interest, and her +disappointment showed itself in her face. + +Pandora smiled. "When I was about thy years, Christie, one day as I +came downstairs, I made a false step, and slid down to the bottom of the +flight. It was not very far--maybe an half-dozen steps or more: but I +fell with my ankle doubled under me, and for nigh a fortnight I could +not walk for the pain. I had to lie all day on a day-bed; and though +divers young folks were in the house, and many sports going, I could not +share in any, but lay there and fretted me o'er my misfortune. I was +not patient; I was very impatient. But there was in the house a good +man, a friend of my grandmother, that came one even into the parlour +where I lay, and found me in tears. He asked me no questions. He did +but lay his hand upon my brow as I lay there with my kerchief to mine +eyes, and quoth he, `My child, to do the work of God is to do His will.' +Hast thou yet learned my lesson, Christie?" + +Christie's eyes were eager enough now. She saw that the answer was +coming, not put aside for something more entertaining to Pandora. + +"Many and many a time, Christie, hath that come back to me, when I have +been called to do that which was unpleasing to me, that which perchance +seemed lesser work for God than the thing which I was doing. And I have +oft found that what I would have done instead thereof was not the work +God set me, but the work I set myself." + +"Then can I work for God, if I only lie here?" + +"If God bid thee lie there, and bear pain and weakness, and weariness, +dear child, then that is His work, because it is His will for thee. It +would not be work for God, if thou wert to arise and scour the floor, +when He bade thee 'bide still and suffer. Ah, Christie, we are all of +us sore apt to make that blunder--to think that the work we set +ourselves is the work God setteth us. And 'tis very oft He giveth us +cross-training; the eager, active soul is set to lie and bear, while the +timid, ease-loving nature is bidden to arise and do. But so long as it +is His will, it is His work." + +It did not strike Christie as anything peculiar or surprising that her +new acquaintance should at once begin to talk to her in this strain. +She had lived exclusively with people older than herself, and all whom +she knew intimately were Christian people. Aunt Tabitha sometimes +puzzled her; but Christie's nature was not one to fret and strain over a +point which she could not comprehend. It seemed to her, therefore, not +only right, but quite a matter of course, that Pandora Roberts should be +of the same type as her father and her Aunt Alice. + +"I thank you, Mistress," she said earnestly. "I will do mine utmost to +bear it in mind, and then, maybe, I shall not be so impatient as oft I +am." + +"Art thou impatient, Christabel?" + +"Oh, dreadfully!" said Christie, drawing a long sigh. "Not always, look +you; there be times I am content, or if not, I can keep it all inside +mostly. But there be times it will not tarry within, but comes right +out, and then I'm so 'shamed of myself afterward. I marvel how it is +that peevishness isn't like water and other things--when they come +pouring out, they are out, and they are done; but the more peevishness +comes out of you, the more there seems to be left in. 'Tis not oft, +look you, it really comes right outside: that would be shocking! but +'tis a deal too often. And I _do_ want to be like the Lord Jesus!" + +Something bright and wet dropped on Christabel's forehead as Pandora +stooped to kiss her. + +"Little Christie," she said tenderly, "I too right earnestly desire to +be like the Lord Jesus. But the best of all is that the Lord Himself +desires it for us. He will help us both; and we will pray each for +other." + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +UNEXPECTED TIDINGS. + +When Roger Hall came home that evening, he was greeted by Christie with +an amount of excited enthusiasm which he did not often hear from his +little invalid daughter. + +"Oh Father, Father! I have a new friend, and such a good, pleasant maid +she is!" + +Christie did not term her new friend "nice," as she certainly would have +done in the present day. To her ear that word had no meaning except +that of particular and precise--the meaning which we still attach to its +relative "nicety." + +"A new friend, forsooth?" said Christie's father with a smile. "And who +is she, sweet heart? Is it Mistress Final's niece, that came to visit +her this last week?" + +"Oh no, Father! 'Tis somebody much--ever so much grander! Only think, +the master's daughter, Mistress Pandora Roberts, came with her aunt, +Mistress Holland; and Mistress Holland went on to Cranbrook, and took +Aunt Tabitha with her--she was here when she came--and Mistress Pandora +tarried with me, and talked, till her aunt came back to fetch her. Oh, +she is a sweet maid, and I do love her!" + +Roger Hall looked rather grave. He had kept himself, and even more, his +Christie, from the society of outsiders, for safety's sake. For either +of them to be known as a Gospeller, the name then given to the true, +firm-hearted Protestants, would be a dangerous thing for their +liberties, if not their lives. Pandora Roberts was the daughter of a +man who, once a Protestant, had conformed to the Romanised form of +religion restored by Queen Mary, and her uncle was one of the +magistrates on the Cranbrook bench. Roger was sorry to hear that one so +nearly allied to these dangerous people had found his little violet +under the leaves where he had hoped that she was safely hidden. A sharp +pang shot through his heart as the dread possibility rose before him of +his delicate little girl being carried away to share the comfortless +prison of his sister. Such treatment would most likely kill her very +soon. For himself he would have cared far less: but Christie! + +He was puzzled how to answer Christie's praises of Pandora. He did not +wish to throw cold water on the child's delight, nor to damage her newly +found friend in her eyes. But neither did he wish to drag her into the +thorny path wherein he had to walk himself--to hedge her round with +perpetual cautions and fears and terrors, lest she should let slip some +word that might be used to their hurt. An old verse says-- + + "Ye gentlemen of England + That sit at home at ease, + Ye little know the miseries + And dangers of the seas." + +And it might be said with even greater truth--Ye men and women, ye boys +and girls of free, peaceful, Protestant England, ye little know the +dangers of life in lands where Popish priests rule, nor the miseries +that you will have to endure if they ever gain the ascendancy here +again! + +Roger Hall had never heard Dr Abernethy's wise advice--"When you don't +know what to do, do nothing." But in this emergency he acted on that +principle. + +"I trust, my dear heart," he said quietly, "that it may please the Lord +to make thee and this young gentlewoman a blessing to each other." + +"Oh, it will, I know, Father!" said Christie, quite unsuspicious of the +course of her father's thoughts. "Only think, Father! she told me first +thing, pretty nigh, that she loved the Lord Jesus, and wanted to be like +Him. So you see we couldn't do each other any hurt, could we?" + +Roger smiled rather sadly. + +"I am scarce so sure of that, my Christie. Satan can set snares even +for them that love the Lord; but 'tis true, they be not so like to slip +as they that do not. Is this young mistress she that dwelt away from +home some years back, or no?" + +"She is, Father; she hath dwelt away in the shires, with her +grandmother, these five years. And there was a good man there--she told +me not his name--that gave her counsel, and he said, `To do God's work +is to do God's will.' That is good, Father, isn't it?" + +"Good, and very true, sweeting." + +Roger Hall had naturally all the contempt of a trueborn man of Kent for +the dwellers in "the shires," which practically meant everybody in +England who was not a native of Kent. But he knew that God had said, +"He that despiseth his neighbour sinneth;" so he said in his heart, "Get +thee behind me, Satan," to the bad feeling, and went on to wonder who +the good man might be. Had Pandora told the name of that man, half +Roger's doubts and terrors would have taken flight. The name of Master +John Bradford of Manchester--the martyr who eighteen months before had +glorified the Lord in the fires--would have been an immediate passport +to his confidence. But Pandora knew the danger of saying more than was +needful, and silently suppressed the name of her good counsellor. + +Some days elapsed before Roger was again able to visit Canterbury. They +were very busy just then at the cloth-works, and his constant presence +was required. But when February began, the pressure was past, and on +the first holy-day in that month, which was Candlemas Day, he rode to +the metropolitan city of his county on another visit to Alice. On his +arm he carried a basket, which held a bottle of thick cream, a dozen +new-laid eggs, and a roll of butter; and as he came through Canterbury, +he added to these country luxuries the town dainties of a bag of dates +and half a pound each of those costly spices, much used and liked at +that time--cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon. On these articles he spent 7 +shillings 8 pence--8 pence for the dates, 3 shillings for cinnamon, 2 +shillings 6 pence for cloves, and 1 shilling 6 pence for nutmegs. +Lastly, he bought a sugarloaf, then an unusual luxury, which cost him 7 +pence. The basket was now quite full, and leaving his horse at the Star +Inn, he went up to the prison, and struck with his dagger on the great +bell, which was then the general mode of ringing it. Every man, except +labourers, carried a dagger. The porter had become so accustomed to the +sight of Roger, that he usually opened the door for him at once, with a +nod of greeting. But this morning, when he looked from the wicket to +see who it was, he did not open the door, but stood silently behind it. +Roger wondered what this new style of conduct meant. + +"May I within, by your good leave, to see my sister?" he asked. + +"You may within, if you desire to tarry here, by my Lord's good leave," +said the porter; "but you'll not see your sister." + +"Why, what's ado?" asked Roger in consternation. + +"Removed," answered the porter shortly. + +"Whither?" + +"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," was the proverbial +reply. + +"Lack-a-day! Can I find out?" + +The porter elevated his eyebrows, and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Come within a moment," said he. + +Roger obeyed, and the porter drew him into his lodge, where he spoke in +a cautious whisper. + +"Master Hall, you be an honest man; and though I am here found, yet I +trust so am I. If you be likewise a wise man, you will find somewhat to +keep you at home for the future. Whither Mistress Benden is now taken, +I could not tell you if I would: but this can I say, you'll follow if +you have not a care. Be ruled by me, that am dealing by you as by a +friend, and keep out of Canterbury when you are out, and let that be as +soon as you may. For your good stuff, leave it an' you will for +Mistress Potkin: but if you tarry here, or return and be taken, say not +you were not warned. Now, void your basket, and go." + +Like a man dazed or in a dream, Roger Hall slowly emptied his basket of +the good things which he had brought for Alice. He was willing enough +that Rachel Potkin should have those or any other comforts he could +bring her. But that basket had been packed under Christie's eyes, and +in part by Christie's hands, and the child had delighted herself in the +thought of Aunt Alice's pleasure in every item. And when at last the +roll of butter was lifted out, and behind it the eggs which it had +confined in a safe corner, and Roger came to the two tiny eggs which +Christie had put in with special care, saying, "Now, Father, you'll be +sure to tell Aunt Alice those eggs were laid by my own little hen, and +she must eat them her own self, because I sent them to her"--as Roger +took out the eggs of Christie's hen, he could hardly restrain a sob, +which was partly for the child's coming disappointment, and partly +caused by his own anxious suspense and distress. The porter had not +spoken very plainly--he had probably avoided doing so on purpose--but it +was sufficiently manifest that the authorities had their eyes on Roger +himself, and that he ran serious risk of arrest if he remained in +Canterbury. + +But what had they done with Alice? He must find her. Whatever became +of him, he must look for Alice. + +Roger turned away from the gate of the gaol, sick at heart. He scarcely +remembered even to thank the friendly porter, and turned back to repair +the omission. + +"If you be thankful to me," was the porter's significant answer, "look +you take my counsel." + +Slowly, as if he were walking in a dream, and scarcely knew where he was +going, Roger made his way back to the Star. There all was bustle and +commotion, for some people of high rank had just arrived on a pilgrimage +to the shrine of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, or rather to the place +where the shrine had stood in past ages. King Henry the Eighth had +destroyed the shrine, and a soldier had "rattled down proud Becket's +glassy bones," but the spot where it had been was considered holy, and +the poor deluded people even yet sometimes came to worship there, and to +make their painful way up the Pilgrims' Stairs, which they had to ascend +on their knees. Those stairs are now to be seen in Canterbury +Cathedral, worn by the thousands of knees which went up them, the poor +creatures fancying that by this means they would obtain pardon of their +sins, or earn a seat in Heaven. + +The bustle in the inn rather favoured Roger's escape. He mounted his +horse, tied the basket to his saddle, and rode out of Wincheap Gate, +wondering all the while how he could discover the place to which Alice +had been removed, and how he should tell Christie. He met several +people on the road, but noticed none of them, and reached his own house +without having exchanged a word with any one he knew. He let himself +in, and with a sinking heart, opened the parlour door. + +"Dear heart, Master Hall!" said the voice of Collet Pardue, who was +seated by Christie's couch, "but there's ill news in your face! What's +ado, prithee?" + +"Oh, Father, is Aunt Alice sick?" cried Christie. + +Roger came round to the couch, and knelt down, one hand clasping that of +his little girl, and the other tenderly laid upon her head. + +"My Christie," he said, "they have taken Aunt Alice away, I know not +whither. But our Father knows. Perchance He will show us. But whether +or not, all is well with her, for she is in His care that loveth her +more than we." + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +MR. BENDEN'S DESSERT. + +"Taken her away from the gaol! and you wot not whither? Well, Roger +Hall, you're as pretty a man of your hands as ever I did behold!" + +"How signify you, Sister Tabitha?" + +"Would I ever have turned back from Canterbury till I'd found out? +Marry, not I! I'd have known all about it in half a twink." + +"Please, Aunt Tabitha, if you have half a twink to spare--I know not +what it is, but I suppose you do--won't you go and find out Aunt Alice?" + +This practical suggestion from Christie was quietly ignored. + +"'Tis right like a man as ever I did see! Catch a woman turning back in +that fashion afore she'd half done her work!" + +"But, Aunt Tabitha," urged Christie, for her father sat in silence, and +she felt herself bound to defend him, "have you forgotten what the +porter said to Father? If they--" + +"Pack o' nonsense!" snorted Aunt Tabitha. "He would fain keep him from +continual coming, and he spake out the first thing that came in his +head, that's all. None but a babe like thee should take any note of +such rubbish. Can't you speak up, Roger Hall? or did you drop your +tongue where you left your wits?" + +"Methinks you have a sufficiency for us both, Tabitha," said Roger +quietly, leaving it uncertain whether he alluded to the tongue or the +wits. + +"Mean you to go again to-morrow?" + +"That cannot I yet say. I lack time to think--and to pray likewise." + +"Lack time to _think_! Gramercy me! How long doth a man want to gather +up his wits together? I should have thought of fifty things whilst I +rode back from Canterbury." + +"So I did, Tabitha; but I wis not yet which was the right." + +"Ay, you're a brave hand at thinking, but I want to _do_." + +"That will I likewise, so soon as I have thought out what is best to do. +I see it not as yet." + +"Lack-a-daisy me! Well, my fine master, I'll leave you to your +thinking, and I'll get to my doing. As to second and third, I'll tarry +till I reach 'em; but I know what comes first." + +"What mean you to do, Tabitha?" + +"I mean to walk up to Briton's Mead, and give Edward Benden a sweet-sop +to his supper. I've had a rod in pickle any day this three months, and +I reckon 'tis in good conditions by now. I'll give him some'at he'll +enjoy. If he skrike not afore I've done with him--!" + +Leaving her sentence the more expressive for its incompleteness, +Mistress Tabitha stalked out of the room and the house, not pausing for +any farewells. + +"Father," said Christie, a little fearfully, "aren't you 'feared Aunt +Tabitha shall get into prison, the way she talks and runs right at +things?" + +"Nay, Christie, I scarce am," said Roger. + +He knew that Faithful is brought to the stake in Vanity Fair more +frequently than Talkative. + +In the dining-room at Briton's Mead Mr Benden was sitting down to his +solitary supper. Of the result of his application to the Bishop he had +not yet heard. He really imagined that if Roger Hall could be kept out +of her way, Alice would yield and do all that he wished. He gave her +credit for no principle; indeed, like many in his day, he would have +laughed at the bare idea of a woman having any principle, or being able +to stand calmly and firmly without being instigated and supported by a +man. Roger, therefore, in his eyes, was the obstacle in the way of +Alice's submission. He did not in the least realise that the real +obstacle against which he was striving was the Holy Spirit of God. + +To a man in Mr Benden's position, who, moreover, had always been an +epicure, his meals were a relief and an enjoyment. He was then less +troubled by noxious thoughts than at any other time. It was with a sigh +of something like satisfaction that he sat down to supper, unfolded his +napkin, and tucked it into his doublet, muttered a hurried grace, and +helped himself to the buttered eggs which Mary had sent up light and +hot. He was just putting down the pepper-cruet, when he became aware of +something on the settle in the corner, which he could not fairly see, +and did not understand. Mr Benden was rather short-sighted. He peered +with eyes half shut at the unknown object. + +"What's that?" he said, half aloud. + +_That_ responded by neither sound nor motion. It looked very like a +human being; but who could possibly be seated on his settle at this late +hour without his knowing it? Mr Benden came to the conclusion that it +would be foolish to disturb himself, and spoil an excellent supper, for +the sake of ascertaining that Mary had forgotten to put away his +fur-lined cloak, which was most likely the thing in the corner. He +would look at it after supper. He took up his spoon, and was in the act +of conveying it to his mouth, when the uncanny object suddenly changed +its attitude. + +"Saints bless us and love us!" ejaculated Mr Benden, dropping the +spoon. + +He really was not at all concerned about the saints loving him, +otherwise he would have behaved differently to his wife; but the words +were the first to occur to him. The unknown thing was still again, and +after another long stare, which brought him no information, Mr Benden +picked up the spoon, and this time succeeded in conveying it to his +lips. + +At that moment the apparition spoke. + +"Edward Benden!" it said, "do you call yourself a Christian?" + +Mr Benden's first gasp of horror that the hobgoblin should address him +by name, was succeeded by a second of relief as he recognised the voice. + +"Bless the saints!" he said to himself; "it's only Tabby." + +His next sensation was one of resentment. What business had Tabitha to +steal into his house in this way, startling him half out of his wits as +he began his supper? These mixed sentiments lent a sulky tone to his +voice as he answered that he was under the impression he had some claim +to that character. + +"Because," said the apparition coolly, "I don't." + +"Never thought you were," said Mr Benden grimly, turning the tables on +the enemy, who had left him a chance to do it. + +Tabitha rose and advanced to the table. + +"Where is Alice?" she demanded. + +"How should I know?" answered Mr Benden, hastily shovelling into his +mouth another spoonful of eggs, without a notion what they tasted like. +"In the gaol, I reckon. You are best to go and see, if you'd fain know. +I'm not her keeper." + +"You're not? Did I not hear you swear an oath to God Almighty, to `keep +her in sickness and in health?' That's how you keep your vows, is it? +I've kept mine better than so. But being thus ignorant of what you +should know better than other folks, may be it shall serve you to hear +that she is not in the gaol, nor none wist where she is, saving, as I +guess, yon dotipole men call Dick o' Dover. He and Satan know, very +like, for I count they took counsel about it." + +Mr Benden laid down his spoon, and looked up at Tabitha. "Tabitha, I +wist nought of this, I ensure you, neither heard I of it aforetime. +I--" + +He took another mouthful to stop the words that were coming. It would +hardly be wise to let Tabitha know what he had said to the Bishop. + +"Sit you down, and give me leave to help you to these eggs," he said, +hospitably in appearance, politically in fact. + +"I'll not eat nor drink in your house," was the stern reply. "Must I, +then, take it that Dick o' Dover hath acted of his own head, and without +any incitement from you?" + +Poor Mr Benden! He felt himself fairly caught. He did not quite want +to tell a point blank falsehood. + +"They be good eggs, Tabitha, and Mall wist well how to dress them," he +urged. "You were best--" + +"You were best answer my question, Edward Benden: Did you in any wise +excite yon mitred scoundrel to this act?" + +"Your language, Tabitha, doth verily 'shame me. `Mitred scoundrel,' in +good sooth! Fear you not to be brought afore the justices for--" + +"I fear nought so much as I fear you are a slippery snake, as well as a +roaring lion," said Tabitha, in grim defiance of natural history. +"Answer my question, or I'll make you!" + +Until that moment Mr Benden had not noticed that Tabitha kept one hand +behind her. It suddenly struck him now, in disagreeable combination +with the threat she uttered. + +"What have you behind your back?" he said uneasily. + +"A succade to follow your eggs, which you shall have if you demerit it." + +"What mean you, Sister Tabitha?" + +"Let be your slimy coaxing ways. Answer my question." + +Like all bullies, Mr Benden was a coward. With a woman of Tabitha's +type he had never before had to deal at such close quarters. Alice +either yielded to his wishes, or stood quietly firm, and generally +silent. He began to feel considerable alarm. Tabitha was a powerful +woman, and he was a man of only moderate strength. Briton's Mead was +not within call of any other house, and its master had an unpleasant +conviction that to summon Mary to his aid would not improve his case. +It was desirable to compromise with Tabitha. The only way that he could +see to do it was to deny his action. If he did commit a sin in speaking +falsely, he said to himself, it was Tabitha's fault for forcing him to +it, and Father Bastian would absolve him easily, considering the +circumstances. + +"No, Tabitha; I did not say a word to the Bishop." + +"You expect me to believe you, after all that fencing and skulking under +hedges? Then I don't. If you'd said it fair out at first, well--may be +I might, may be I mightn't. But I don't now, never a whit. And I think +you'd best eat the succade I brought you. I believe you demerit it; and +if you don't, you soon will, or I'm a mistaken woman, and I'm not apt to +be that," concluded Mistress Tabitha, with serene consciousness of +virtue. + +"Tabitha, my dear sister, I do ensure you--" + +"You'd best ensure me of nothing, my right undear brother. Out on your +snaky speeches and beguiling ways! You'll have your succade, and I'll +leave you to digest it, and much good may it do you!" + +And he had it. After which transaction Mistress Tabitha went home, and +slept all the better for the pleasing remembrance that she had +horsewhipped Mr Edward Benden. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +AT THE WHITE HART. + +There was a good deal of bustle going on in the kitchen of the White +Hart, the little hostelry at Staplehurst. It was "fair day," and fairs +were much more important things in the olden time than now. A fair +now-a-days is an assemblage of some dozen booths, where the chief +commodities are toys and sweetmeats, with an attempt at serious business +in the shape of a little crockery or a few tin goods. But fairs in 1557 +were busy places where many people laid in provisions for the season, or +set themselves up with new clothes. The tiny inn had as many guests as +it could hold, and the principal people in the town had come together in +its kitchen--country inns had no parlours then--to debate all manner of +subjects in which they were interested. The price of wool was an +absorbing topic with many; the dearness of meat and general badness of +trade were freely discussed by all. Amongst them bustled Mistress +Final, the landlady of the inn, a widow, and a comely, rosy-faced, fat, +kindly woman, assisted by her young son Ralph, her two daughters, Ursula +and Susan, and her maid Dorcas. Cakes and ale were served to most of +the customers; more rarely meat, except in the form of pies, which were +popular, or of bacon, with or without accompanying eggs. + +The company in the kitchen were all more or less acquainted with each +other, two persons excepted. Those who were not Staplehurst people had +come in from the surrounding villages, or from Cranbrook at the +farthest. But these two men were total strangers, and they did not mix +with the villagers, but sat, in travelling garb, at one corner of the +kitchen, listening, yet rarely joining in the talk which went on around +them. One of them, indeed, seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, and +scarcely spoke, even to his companion. He was a tall spare man, with a +grave and reserved expression of countenance. The other was shorter and +much more lively in his motions, was evidently amused by the +conversation in his vicinity, and looked as if he would not object to +talk if the opportunity were given him. + +Into this company came Emmet Wilson and Collet Pardue. Both had brought +full baskets from the fair, which they set down in a corner, and turned +to amuse themselves with a little chat with their friends. + +"Any news abroad?" asked Collet. She dearly loved a bit of news, which +she would retail to her quiet husband as they sat by the fireside after +the day's work was done. + +"Well, not so much," said John Banks, the mason, to whom Collet had +addressed herself. He was the brother of Mr Benden's servant Mary. +"Without you call it news to hear what happed at Briton's Mead last +night." + +"Why, whatso? Not the mistress come home, trow?" + +"Alack, no such good hap! Nay, only Tabby came down to see the master, +and brought her claws with her." + +"Scrat him well, I hope?" + +"Whipped him, and laid on pretty hard to boot." + +"Why, you never mean it, real true, be sure!" + +"Be sure I do. He's a-bed this morrow." + +"I have my doubts if there'll be many tears shed in Staplehurst," said +Mistress Final, laughing, as she went past with a plate of +biscuit-bread, which, to judge from the receipt for making it, must have +been very like our sponge cake. + +"He's none so much loved of his neighbours," remarked Nicholas White, +who kept a small ironmonger's shop, to which he added the sale of such +articles as wood, wicker-work, crockery, and musical instruments. + +The shorter and livelier of the travellers spoke for the first time. + +"Pray you, who is this greatly beloved master?" + +John Fishcock, the butcher, replied. "His name is Benden, and the folks +be but ill-affected to him for his hard ways and sorry conditions." + +"Hard!--in what manner, trow?" + +"Nay, you'd best ask my neighbour here, whose landlord he is." + +"And who'd love a sight better to deal with his mistress than himself," +said Collet, answering the appeal. "I say not he's unjust, look you, +but he's main hard, be sure. A farthing under the money, or a day over +the time, and he's no mercy." + +"Ah, the mistress was good to poor folks, bless her!" said Banks. + +"She's dead, is she?" asked the stranger. + +"No, she's away," replied Banks shortly. + +"Back soon?" suggested the stranger. + +John Banks had moved away. There was a peculiar gleam in his +questioner's eye which he did not admire. But Collet, always +unsuspicious, and not always discreet, replied without any idea of +reserve. + +"You'd best ask Dick o' Dover that, for none else can tell you." + +"Ah, forsooth!" replied the stranger, apparently more interested than +ever. "I heard as we came there were divers new doctrine folks at +Staplehurst. She is one of them, belike?--and the master holds with the +old? 'Tis sore pity folks should not agree to differ, and hold their +several opinions in peace." + +"Ah, it is so," said unsuspicious Collet. + +"Pray you, who be the chief here of them of the new learning? We be +strangers in these parts, and should be well a-paid to know whither we +may seek our friends. Our hostess here, I am aware, is of them; but for +others I scarce know. The name of White was dropped in mine hearing, +and likewise Fishcock; who be they, trow? And dwells there not a +certain Mistress Brandridge, or some such?--and a Master Hall or Ball-- +some whither in this neighbourhood, that be friends unto such as love +not the papistical ways?" + +"Look you now, I'll do you to wit all thereanent," said Collet +confidentially. "For Fishcock, that was he that first spake unto you; +he is a butcher, and dwelleth nigh the church. Nicholas White, yon big +man yonder, that toppeth most of his neighbours, hath an ironmongery +shop a-down in the further end of the village. Brandridge have we not: +but Mistress Bradbridge--" + +"Mistress, here's your master a-wanting you!" came suddenly in John +Banks' clear tones; and Collette, hastily lifting her basket, and +apologising for the sudden termination of her usefulness, departed +quickly. + +"She that hath hastened away is Mistress Wilson, methinks?" asked the +inquisitive traveller of the person next him, who happened to be Mary +Banks. + +Mary looked quietly up into the animated face, and glanced at his +companion also before replying. Then she said quietly-- + +"No, my master; Mistress Wilson is not now here." + +"Then what name hath she?" + +"I cry you mercy, Master; I have no time to tarry." + +The grave man in the corner gave a grim smile as Mary turned away. + +"You took not much by that motion, Malledge," he said in a low tone. + +"I took a good deal by the former," replied Malledge, with a laugh. +"Beside, I lacked it not; I wis well the name of my useful friend that +is now gone her way. I did but ask to draw on more talk. But one +matter I have not yet." + +These words were spoken in an undertone, audible only to the person to +whom they were addressed; and the speaker turned back to join in the +general conversation. But before they had obtained any further +information, the well-known sounds of the hunt came through the open +door, and the whole company turned forth to see the hunters and hounds +go by. Most of them did not return, but dispersed in the direction of +their various homes, and from the few who did nothing was to be drawn. + +John Banks walked away with Nicholas White. "Saw you those twain?" he +asked, when they had left the White Hart a little way behind them. "The +strange men? Ay, I saw them." + +"I misdoubt if they come for any good purpose." + +"Ay so?" said Nicholas in apparent surprise. "What leads you to that +thought, trow?" + +"I loved not neither of their faces; nor I liked not of their talk. +That shorter man was for ever putting questions anent the folks in this +vicinage that loved the Gospel; and Collet Pardue told him more than she +should, or I mistake." + +Nicholas White smiled. "I reckoned you were in some haste to let her +wit that her master wanted her," he said. + +"I was that. I was in a hurry to stop her tongue." + +"Well!" said the ironmonger after a short pause, "the Lord keep His +own!" + +"Amen!" returned the mason. "But methinks, friend, the Lord works not +many miracles to save even His own from traps whereinto they have run +with their eyes open." + +They walked on for a few minutes in silence. "What think you," asked +White, "is come of Mistress Benden?" + +"Would I wist!" answered Banks. "Master Hall saith he'll never let be +till he find her, without he be arrest himself." + +"That will he, if he have not a care." + +"I'm not so sure," said Banks, "that those two in the White Hart could +not have told us an' they would." + +"Good lack!--what count you then they be?" + +"I reckon that they be of my Lord Cardinal's men." + +"Have you any ground for that fantasy?" + +"Methought I saw the nether end of a mitre, broidered on the sleeve of +the shorter man, where his cloak was caught aside upon the settle knob. +Look you, I am not sure; but I'm 'feared lest it so be." + +"Jack, couldst thou stand the fire?" + +"I wis not, Nichol. Could you?" + +"I cast no doubt I could do all things through Christ, nor yet that +without Christ I could do nothing." + +"It may come close, ere long," said Banks gravely. + +The two travellers, meanwhile, had mounted their horses, and were riding +in the direction of Goudhurst. A third man followed them, leading a +baggage-horse. As they went slowly along, the taller man said-- + +"Have you all you need, now, Malledge?" + +"All but one matter, Master Sumner--we know not yet where Hall dwelleth. +Trust me, but I coveted your grave face, when we heard tell of Tabby +horsewhipping yon Benden!" + +"He hath his demerits," said the sumner,--that is, the official who +served the summonses to the ecclesiastical courts. + +"Of that I cast no doubt; nor care I if Tabby thrash him every day, for +my part. When come we in our proper persons, to do our work?" + +"That cannot I tell. We must first make report to my Lord of Dover." + +A young girl and a little child came tripping down the road. The short +man drew bridle and addressed them. + +"Pray you, my pretty maids, can you tell me where dwelleth Mistress +Bradbridge? I owe her a trifle of money, and would fain pay the same." + +"Oh yes, sir!" said little Patience Bradbridge eagerly; "she's my +mother. She dwells in yon white house over the field yonder." + +"And Master Roger Hall, where dwelleth he?" + +Penuel Pardue hastily stopped her little friend's reply. + +"Master Hall is not now at home, my masters, so it should be to no +purpose you visit his house. I give you good-morrow." + +"Wise maid!" said Malledge with a laugh, when the girls were out of +hearing. "If all were as close as thou, we should thrive little." + +"They are all in a story!" said the sumner. + +"Nay, not all," replied Malledge. "We have one to thank. But truly, +they are a close-mouthed set, the most of them." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +THE JUSTICE IS INDISCREET. + +"Methinks we be like to have further troubles touching religion in these +parts. Marry, I do marvel what folks would be at, that they cannot be +content to do their duty, and pay their dues, and leave the cure of +their souls to the priest. As good keep a dog and bark thyself, say I, +as pay dues to the priest and take thought for thine own soul." + +The speaker was Mr Justice Roberts, and he sat at supper in his +brother's house, one of a small family party, which consisted, beside +the brothers, of their sister, Mistress Collenwood, Mistress Grena +Holland, Gertrude, and Pandora. The speech was characteristic of the +speaker. The Justice was by no means a bad man, as men go--and all of +them do not go very straight in the right direction--but he made one +mistake which many are making in our own day; he valued peace more +highly than truth. His decalogue was a monologue, consisting but of one +commandment: Do your duty. What a man's duty was, the Justice did not +pause to define. Had he been required to do so, his dissection of that +difficult subject would probably have run in three grooves--go to +church; give alms; keep out of quarrels. + +"It were verily good world, Master Justice, wherein every man should do +his duty," was the answer of Mistress Grena, delivered in that slightly +prim and didactic fashion which was characteristic of her. + +"What is duty?" concisely asked Mistress Collenwood, who was by some ten +years the elder of her brothers, and therefore the eldest of the +company. + +Gertrude's eyes were dancing with amusement; Pandora only looked +interested. + +"Duty," said Mr Roberts, the host, "is that which is due." + +"To whom?" inquired his sister. + +"To them unto whom he oweth it," was the reply; "first, to God; after +Him, to all men." + +"Which of us doth that?" said Mistress Collenwood softly, looking round +the table. + +Mistress Grena shook her head in a way which said, "Very few--not I." + +Had Gertrude lived three hundred years later, she would have said what +now she only thought--"I am sure _I_ do my duty." But in 1557 young +ladies were required to "hear, see, and say nought," and for one of them +to join unasked in the conversation of her elders would have been held +to be shockingly indecorous. The rule for girls' behaviour was too +strict in that day; but if a little of it could be infused into the very +lax code of the present time, when little misses offer their opinions on +subjects of which they know nothing, and unblushingly differ from, or +even contradict their mothers, too often without rebuke, it would be a +decided improvement on social manners. + +"Which of the folks in these parts be not doing their duty?" asked Mr +Roberts of his brother. + +"You know Benden of Briton's Mead?" replied the Justice. + +"By sight; I am not well acquaint with him." + +"Is he not an hard man, scarce well liked?" said his sister. + +"True enough, as you shall say ere my tale come to an end. This Benden +hath a wife--a decent Woman enough, as all men do confess, save that she +is bitten somewhat by certain heretical notions that the priest cannot +win her to lay by; will not come to mass, and so forth; but in all other +fashions of good repute: and what doth this brute her husband but go +himself to the Bishop, and beg--I do ensure you, beg his Lordship that +this his wife may be arrest and lodged in prison. And in prison she is, +and hath so been now these three or four months, on the sworn +information of her own husband. 'Tis monstrous!" + +"Truly, most shocking!" said Mistress Grena, cutting up the round of +beef. The lady of the house always did the carving. + +"Ah! As saith the old proverb: `There is no worse pestilence than a +familiar enemy,'" quoted the host. + +"Well!" continued the Justice, with an amused look: "but now cometh a +good jest, whereof I heard but yester-even. This Mistress Benden hath +two brothers, named Hall--Roger and Thomas--one of whom dwelleth at +Frittenden, and the other at yon corner house in Staplehurst, nigh to +the Second Acre Close. Why, to be sure, he is your manager--that had I +forgot." + +Mr Roberts nodded. Pandora had pricked up her ears at the name of +Hall, and now began to listen intently. Mistress Benden, of whom she +heard for the first time, must be an aunt of her _protegee_, little +Christabel. + +"This Thomas Hall hath a wife, by name Tabitha, that the lads hereabout +call Tabby, and by all accounts a right cat with claws is she. She, I +hear, went up to Briton's Mead a two-three days gone, or maybe something +more, and gave good Master Benden a taste of her horsewhip, that he hath +since kept his bed--rather, I take it, from sulkiness than soreness, yet +I dare be bound she handled him neatly. Tabitha is a woman of strong +build, and lithe belike, that I would as lief not be horsewhipped by. +Howbeit, what shall come thereof know I not. Very like she thought it +should serve to move him to set Mistress Alice free: but she may find, +and he belike, that 'tis easier to set a stone a-rolling down the hill +than to stay it. The matter is now in my Lord of Dover's hands; and +without Mistress Tabitha try her whip on him--" + +Both gentlemen laughed. Pandora was deeply interested, as she recalled +little Christie's delicate words, that Aunt Alice was "away at present." +The child evidently would not say more. Pandora made up her mind that +she would go and see Christie again as soon as possible, and meanwhile +she listened for any information that she might give her. + +"What is like to come of the woman, then?" said Mr Roberts, "apart from +Mistress Tabitha and her whip?" + +"Scarce release, I count," said the Justice gravely. "She hath been +moved from the gaol; and that doubtless meaneth, had into straiter +keeping." + +"Poor fools!" said his brother, rather pityingly than scornfully. + +"Ay, 'tis strange, in very deed, they cannot let be this foolish +meddling with matters too high for them. If the woman would but conform +and go to church, I hear, her womanish fantasies should very like be +overlooked. Good lack I can a man not believe as he list, yet hold his +tongue and be quiet, and not bring down the laws on his head?" concluded +the Justice somewhat testily. + +There was a pause, during which all were silent--from very various +motives. Mr Roberts was thinking rather sadly that the only choice +offered to men in those days was a choice of evils. He had never wished +to conform--never would have done so, had he been let alone: but a man +must look out for his safety, and take care of his property--of course +he must!--and if the authorities made it impossible for him to do so +with a good conscience, why, the fault was theirs, not his. Thus argued +Mr Roberts, forgetting that the man makes a poor bargain who gains the +whole world and loses himself. The Justice and Gertrude were simply +enjoying their supper. No scruples of any kind disturbed their +slumbering consciences. Mistress Collenwood's face gave no indication +of her thoughts. Pandora was reflecting chiefly upon Christabel. + +But there was one present whose conscience had been asleep, and was just +waking to painful life. For nearly four years had Grena Holland soothed +her many misgivings by some such reasoning as that of Mr Justice +Roberts. She had conformed outwardly: had not merely abstained from +contradictory speeches, but had gone to mass, had attended the +confessional, had bowed down before images of wood and stone, and all +the time had comforted herself by imagining that God saw her heart, and +knew that she did not really believe in any of these things, but only +acted thus for safety's sake. Now, all at once, she knew not how, it +came on her as by a flash of lightning that she was on the road that +leadeth to destruction, and not content with that, was bearing her young +nieces along with her. She loved those girls as if she had been their +own mother. Grave, self-contained, and undemonstrative as she was, she +would almost have given her life for either, but especially for Pandora, +who in face, and to some extent in character, resembled her dead mother, +the sister who had been the darling of Grena Holland's heart. She +recalled with keen pain the half-astonished, half-shrinking look on +Pandora's face, as she had followed her to mass on the first holy-day +after her return from Lancashire. Grena knew well that at Shardeford +Hall, her mother's house in Lancashire, Pandora would never have been +required to attend mass, but would have been taught that it was "a fond +fable and a dangerous deceit." And now, she considered, that look had +passed from the girl's face; she went silently, not eagerly on the one +hand, yet unprotestingly, even by look, on the other. Forward into the +possible future went Grena's imagination--to the prison, and the +torture-chamber, and the public disgrace, and the awful death of fire. +How could she bear those, either for herself or for Pandora? + +These painful meditations were broken in upon by a remark from the +Justice. + +"There is some strong ale brewing, I warrant you, for some of our great +doctors and teachers of this vicinage. I heard t'other day, from one +that shall be nameless--indeed, I would not mention the matter, but we +be all friends and good Catholics here--" + +Mistress Collenwood's eyes were lifted a moment from her plate, but then +went down again in silence. + +"Well, I heard say two men of my Lord Cardinal's had already been +a-spying about these parts, for to win the names of such as were +suspect: and divers in and nigh Staplehurst shall hear more than they +wot of, ere many days be over. Mine hostess at the White Hart had best +look out, and--well, there be others; more in especial this Master Ro-- +Come, I'll let be the rest." + +"I trust you have not said too much already," remarked Mr Roberts +rather uneasily. + +That the Justice also feared he had been indiscreet was shown by his +slight testiness in reply. + +"Tush! how could I? There's never a serving-man in the chamber, and we +be all safe enough. Not the tail of a word shall creep forth, be sure." + +"`Three may keep counsel, if twain be away,'" said Mr Roberts, shaking +his head with a good-humoured smile. + +"They do not alway then," added Mistress Collenwood drily. + +"Well, well!" said the Justice, "you wot well enough, every one of you, +the matter must go no further. Mind you, niece Gertrude, you slip it +not forth to some chattering maid of your acquaintance." + +"Oh, I am safe enough, good Uncle," laughed Gertrude. + +"Indeed, I hope we be all discreet in such dangerous matters," added +Mistress Grena. + +Only Mrs Collenwood and Pandora were silent. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +OUT OF HEART. + +"Aunt Grena," said Pandora Roberts, "if it stand with your pleasure, may +I have leave to visit little Christabel Hall this fine morrow?" + +"Thou shouldst, my dear heart, with my very good will," was the kindly +answer; "but misfortunately, at this time I am not in case to accompany +thee." + +Pandora did not reply, but she looked greatly disappointed, when her +aunt, Mistress Collenwood, suggested-- + +"Could not old Osmund go with her, Grena?" + +"He might, if it were matter of grave concern," replied Mistress Grena, +in a tone which indicated that the concern would have to be very grave +indeed. + +"Well, Dorrie, thou mayest clear those troubled eyes," said Mistress +Collenwood with a smile: "for I myself will accompany thee to visit thy +friend." + +"You, Aunt Francis? Oh, I thank you!" said Pandora joyfully, passing in +a moment from distress to delight. + +In half-an-hour the horses were at the door. Not much was said during +the ride to Staplehurst, except that Pandora told her aunt that +Christabel was an invalid child, and that her father was the manager at +the cloth-works. Christie, who of course was always at home, was +rejoiced to see her friend; and Mistress Collenwood inquired closely +into her ailments, ending with the suggestion, which she desired might +be conveyed to her father, that Christie should rub her limbs with oil +of swallows, and take a medicine compounded of plantain water and +"powder of swine's claws." + +"Father's in the house," said Christie. "He had to return back for some +papers the master desired." + +Roger Hall confirmed her words by coming into the room in a few minutes, +with the papers in his hand which he had been sent to seek. He made a +reverence to his master's relatives. + +"Master Hall," said Mrs Collenwood, "I would gladly have a word with +you touching your little maid's ailments." + +Roger detected her desire to say something to him out of Christie's +hearing, and led her to the kitchen, which was just then empty, as Nell +was busy in the wash-house outside. + +"I pray you to bar the door," said Mrs Collenwood. + +Roger obeyed, rather wondering at the request. Mrs Collenwood shortly +told him that she thought the oil of swallows might strengthen +Christie's limbs, and the medicine improve her general health, but she +so quickly dismissed that subject that it was plain she had come for +something else. Roger waited respectfully till she spoke. + +Speech seemed to be difficult to the lady. Twice she looked up and +appeared to be on the point of speaking; and twice her eyes dropped, her +face flushed, but her voice remained silent. At last she said-- + +"Master Hall, suffer me to ask if you have friends in any other county?" + +Roger was considerably surprised at the question. + +"I have, my mistress," said he, "a married sister that dwelleth in +Norfolk, but I have not seen her these many years." + +He thought she must mean that Christie's health would be better in some +other climate, which was a strange idea to him, at a time when change of +air was considered almost dangerous. + +"Norfolk--should scarce serve," said the lady, in a timid, hesitating +manner. "The air of the Green Yard at Norwich [where stood the Bishop's +prison for heretics] is not o'er good. I think not of your little +maid's health, Master Hall, but of your own." + +Roger Hall was on the point of asserting with some perplexity and much +amazement, that his health was perfect, and he required neither change +nor medicine, when the real object of these faltering words suddenly +flashed on him. His heart seemed to leap into his mouth, then to +retreat to its place, beating fast. + +"My mistress," he said earnestly, "I took not at the first your kindly +meaning rightly, but I count I so do now. If so be, I thank you more +than words may tell. But I must abide at my post. My sister Alice is +not yet found; and should I be taken from the child"--his voice trembled +for a moment--"God must have care of her." + +"I will have a care of her, in that case," said Mrs Collenwood. +"Master Hall, we may speak freely. What you are, I am. Now I have put +my life in your hands, and I trust you to be true." + +"I will guard it as mine own," answered Roger warmly, "and I give you +the most heartiest thanks, my mistress, that a man wot how to utter. +But if I may ask you, be any more in danger? My brother, and Master +White, and Mistress Final--" + +"All be in danger," was the startling answer, "that hold with us. But +the one only name that I have heard beside yours, is mine hostess of the +White Hart." + +"Mistress Final? I reckoned so much. I will have a word with her, if +it may be, on my way back to Cranbrook, and bid her send word to the +others. Alack the day! how long is Satan to reign, and wrong to +triumph?" + +"So long as God will," replied Mrs Collenwood. "So long as His Church +hath need of the cleansing physic shall it be ministered to her. When +she is made clean, and white, and tried, then--no longer. God grant, +friend, that you and I may not fail Him when the summons cometh for +us--`The Master calleth for thee.'" + +"Amen!" said Roger Hall. + +In the parlour Pandora said to Christabel-- + +"Dear child, thou mayest speak freely to me of thine Aunt Alice. I know +all touching her." + +"O Mistress Pandora! wot you where she is?" + +Pandora was grieved to find from Christie's eager exclamation that she +had, however innocently, roused the child's hopes only to be +disappointed. + +"No, my dear heart," she said tenderly, "not that, truly. I did but +signify that I knew the manner of her entreatment, and where she hath +been lodged." + +"Father can't find her anywhere," said Christie sorrowfully. "He went +about two whole days, but he could hear nothing of her at all." + +"Our Father in Heaven knows where she is, my child. He shall not lose +sight of her, be well assured." + +"But she can't see Him!" urged Christie tearfully. + +"Truth, sweeting. Therefore rather `blessed are they that have not +seen, and yet have believed.' Consider how hard the blessed Paul was +tried, and how hard he must have found faith, and yet how fully he did +rely on our Saviour Christ." + +"I don't think Saint Paul was ever tried this way," said Christie in her +simplicity. "And his sister's son knew where he was, and could get at +him. They weren't as ill off as me and Father." + +"Poor old Jacob did not know where Joseph was," suggested Pandora. + +"Well, ay," admitted Christie. "But Jacob was an old man; he wasn't a +little maid. And Joseph came all right, after all. Beside, he was a +lad, and could stand things. Aunt Alice isn't strong. And she hasn't +been nobody's white child [favourite] as Joseph was; I am sure Uncle +Edward never made her a coat of many colours. Mistress Pandora, is it +very wicked of me to feel as if I could not bear to look at Uncle +Edward, and hope that he will never, never, never come to see us any +more?" + +"'Tis not wicked to hate a man's sinful deeds, dear heart; but we have +need to beware that we hate not the sinner himself." + +"I can't tell how to manage that," said Christie. "I can't put Uncle +Edward into one end of my mind, and the ill way he hath used dear Aunt +Alice into the other. He's a bad, wicked man, or he never could have +done as he has." + +"Suppose he be the very worst man that ever lived, Christie--and I +misdoubt if he be so--but supposing it, wouldst thou not yet wish that +God should forgive him?" + +"Well; ay, I suppose I would," said Christie, in a rather uncertain +tone; "but if Uncle Edward's going to Heaven, I do hope the angels will +keep him a good way off Aunt Alice, and Father, and me. I don't think +it would be so pleasant if he were there." + +Pandora smiled. + +"We will leave that, sweet heart, till thou be there," she said. + +And just as she spoke Mrs Collenwood returned to the parlour. She +chatted pleasantly for a little while with Christie, and bade her not +lose heart concerning her Aunt Alice. + +"The Lord will do His best for His own, my child," she said, as they +took leave of Christabel; "but after all, mind thou, His best is not +always our best. Nay; at times it is that which seems to us the worst. +Yet I cast no doubt we shall bless Him for it, and justify all His ways, +when we stand on the mount of God, and look back along the road that we +have traversed. `All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto +such as keep His covenant and his testimonies.'" + +Some such comfort as those words of God can give was sorely needed by +Roger Hall. To use a graphic expression of his day, he was "well-nigh +beat out of heart." He had visited all the villages within some +distance, and had tramped to and fro in Canterbury, and could hear +nothing. He had not as yet hinted to any one his own terrible +apprehension that Alice might have been removed to London for trial. If +so, she would come into the brutal and relentless hands of Bishop +Bonner, and little enough hope was there in that case. The only chance, +humanly speaking, then lay in the occasional visits paid by Cardinal +Pole to Smithfield, for the purpose of rescuing, from Bonner's noble +army of martyrs, the doomed who belonged to his own diocese. And that +was a poor hope indeed. + +There were two important holy-days left in February, and both these +Roger spent in Canterbury, despite the warning of his impending arrest +if he ventured in that direction. On the latter of these two he paid +special attention to the cathedral precincts. It was possible that +Alice might be imprisoned in the house of one of the canons or +prebendaries; and if so, there was a faint possibility that she might be +better treated than in the gaol. Everywhere he listened for her voice. +At every window he gazed earnestly, in the hope of seeing her face. He +saw and heard nothing. + +As he turned away to go home, on the evening of Saint Matthias', it +struck him that perhaps, if he were to come very early in the morning, +the town would be more silent, and there might be a better likelihood of +detecting the sound of one voice among many. But suppose she were kept +in solitary confinement--how then could he hope to hear it? + +Very, very down-hearted was Roger as he rode home. He met two or three +friends, who asked, sympathetically, "No news yet, Master Hall?" and he +felt unable to respond except by a mournful shake of the head. + +"Well, be sure! what can have come of the poor soul?" added Emmet +Wilson. And Roger could give no answer. + +What could have become of Alice Benden? + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +EUREKA! + +In the court where the prebendaries' chambers were situated, within the +Cathedral Close at Canterbury, was an underground vault, known as +Monday's Hole. Here the stocks were kept, but the place was very rarely +used as a prison. A paling, four feet and a half in height, and three +feet from the window, cut off all glimpses of the outer world from any +person within. A little short straw was strewn on the floor, between +the stocks and the wall, which formed the only bed of any one there +imprisoned. It was a place where a man of any humanity would scarcely +have left his dog; cold, damp, dreary, depressing beyond measure. + +That litter of straw, on the damp stones, had been for five weary weeks +the bed of Alice Benden. She was allowed no change of clothes, and all +the pittance given her for food was a halfpenny worth of bread, and a +farthing's worth of drink. At her own request she had been permitted to +receive her whole allowance in bread; and water, not over clean nor +fresh, was supplied for drinking. No living creature came near her save +her keeper, who was the bell-ringer at the cathedral--if we except the +vermin which held high carnival in the vault, and were there in +extensive numbers. It was a dreadful place for any human being to live +in; how dreadful for an educated and delicate gentlewoman, accustomed to +the comforts of civilisation, it is not easy to imagine. + +But to the coarser tortures of physical deprivation and suffering had +been added the more refined torments of heart and soul. During four of +those five weeks all God's waves and billows had gone over Alice Benden. +She felt herself forsaken of God and man alike--out of mind, like the +slain that lie in the grave--forgotten even by the Lord her Shepherd. + +One visitor she had during that time, who had by no means forgotten her. +Satan has an excellent memory, and never lacks leisure to tempt God's +children. He paid poor Alice a great deal of attention. How, he asked +her, was it possible that a just God, not to say a merciful Saviour, +could have allowed her to come into such misery? Had the Lord's hand +waxed short? Here were the persecutors, many of them ungodly men, robed +in soft silken raiment, and faring sumptuously every day; their beds +were made of the finest down, they had all that heart could wish; while +she lay upon dirty straw in this damp hole, not a creature knowing what +had become of her. Was this all she had received as the reward of +serving God? Had she not tried to do His will, and to walk before Him +with a perfect heart? and this was what she got for it, from Him who +could have swept away her persecutors by a word, and lifted her by +another to the height of luxury and happiness. + +Poor Alice was overwhelmed. Her bodily weakness--of which Satan may +always be trusted to take advantage--made her less fit to cope with him, +and for a time she did not guess who it was that suggested all these +wrong and miserable thoughts. She "grievously bewailed" herself, and, +as people often do, nursed her distress as if it were something very +dear and precious. + +But God had not forgotten Alice Benden. She was not going to be lost-- +she, for whom Christ died. She was only to be purified, and made white, +and tried. He led her to find comfort in His own Word, the richest of +earthly comforters. One night Alice began to repeat to herself the +forty-second Psalm. It seemed just made for her. It was the cry of a +sore heart, shut in by enemies, and shut out from hope and pleasure. +Was not that just her case? + +"Why art thou so full of heaviness, O my soul? and why art thou so +disquieted within me? Put thy trust in God!" + +A little relieved, she turned next to the seventy-seventh Psalm. She +had no Bible; nothing but what her well-stored memory gave her. Ah! +what would have become of Alice Benden in those dark hours, had her +memory been filled with all kinds of folly, and not with the pure, +unerring Word of God? This Psalm exactly suited her. + +"Will the Lord absent Himself for ever?--and will He be no more +entreated? Is His mercy clean gone for ever?--and is His promise come +utterly to an end for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious?--and +will He shut up His loving-kindness in displeasure? And I said, It is +mine infirmity: but I will remember the years of the right hand of the +Most Highest." + +A light suddenly flashed, clear and warm, into the weak, low, dark heart +of poor lonely Alice. "It is mine infirmity!" Not God's infirmity--not +God's forgetfulness! "No, Alice, never that," it seemed just as if +somebody said to her: "it is only your poor blind heart here in the +dark, that cannot see the joy and deliverance that are coming to you-- +that must come to all God's people: but He who dwells in the immortal +light, and beholds the end from the beginning, knows how to come and set +you free--knows when to come and save you." + +The tune changed now. Satan was driven away. The enemy whom Alice +Benden had seen that day, and from whom she had suffered so sorely, she +should see again no more for ever. From that hour all was joy and hope. + +"I will magnify Thee, O God my King, and praise Thy name for ever and +ever!" + +That was the song she sang through her prison bars in the early morning +of the 25th of February. The voice of joy and thanksgiving reached +where the moan of pain had not been able to penetrate, to an intently +listening ear a few yards from the prison. Then an answering voice of +delight came to her from without. + +"Alice! Alice! I have found thee!" + +Alice looked up, to see her brother Roger's head and shoulders above the +paling which hid all but a strip of sky from her gaze. + +"Hast thou been a-searching for me all these weeks, Roger?" + +"That have I, my dear heart, ever since thou wast taken from the gaol. +How may I win at thee?" + +"That thou canst not, Hodge. But we may talk a moment, for my keeper, +that is the bell-ringer of the minster, is now at his work there, and +will not return for an half-hour well reckoned. Thou wert best come at +those times only, or I fear thou shalt be taken." + +"I shall not be taken till God willeth," said Roger. "I will come again +to thee in a moment." + +He ran quickly out of the precincts, and into the first baker's shop he +saw, where he bought a small loaf of bread. Into it he pushed five +fourpenny pieces, then called groats, and very commonly current. Then +he fixed the loaf on the end of his staff, and so passed it through the +bars to Alice. This was all he could do. + +"My poor dear heart, hast thou had no company in all this time?" + +"I have had Satan's company a weary while," she answered, "but this last +night he fled away, and the Lord alone is with me." + +"God be praised!" said Roger. "And how farest thou?" + +"Very ill touching the body; very well touching the soul." + +"What matter can I bring thee to thy comfort?" + +"What I lack most is warmth and cleanly covering. I have no chance even +to wash me, and no clothes to shift me. But thou canst bring me nought, +Hodge, I thank thee, and I beseech thee, essay it not. How fares little +Christie?--and be all friends well?" + +"All be well, I thank the Lord, and Christie as her wont is. It shall +do her a power of good to hear thou art found. Dost know when thou +shalt appear before the Bishop?" + +"That do I not, Hodge. It will be when God willeth, and to the end He +willeth; and all that He willeth is good. I have but to endure to the +end: He shall see to all the rest. Farewell, dear brother; it were best +that thou shouldst not tarry." + +As Roger came within sight of Staplehurst on his return, he saw a woman +walking rapidly along the road to meet him, and when he came a little +nearer, he perceived that it was Tabitha. Gently urging his horse +forward, they met in a few minutes. The expression of Tabitha's face +alarmed Roger greatly. She was not wont to look so moved and troubled. +Grim and sarcastic, even angry, he had seen her many times; but grieved +and sorrowful--this was not like Tabitha. Roger's first fear was that +she had come to give him some terrible news of Christie. Yet her +opening words were not those of pain or terror. + +"The Lord be thanked you were not here this day, Roger Hall!" was +Tabitha's strange greeting. + +"What hath happed?" demanded Roger, stopping his horse. + +"What hath happed is that Staplehurst is swept nigh clean of decent +folks. Sheriffs been here--leastwise his man, Jeremy Green--and took +off a good dozen of Gospellers." + +"Tom--Christie?" fell tremulously from Roger's lips. + +"Neither of them. I looked to _them_, and old Jeremy knows me. I heard +tell of their coming, and I had matters in readiness to receive them. I +reckon Jerry had an inkling of that red-hot poker and the copper of +boiling water I'd prepared for his comfort; any way, he passed our house +by, and at yours he did but ask if you were at home, and backed out, as +pleasant as you please, when Nell made answer `Nay.'" + +"Then whom have they taken?" + +"Mine hostess of the White Hart gat the first served. Then they went +after Nichol White, and Nichol Pardue." + +"Pardue!" exclaimed Roger. + +"Ay, Nichol: did not touch Collet. But they took Emmet Wilson, and +Fishwick, butcher, and poor Sens Bradbridge, of all simple folks." + +"And what became of her poor little maids?" asked Roger pityingly. + +"Oh, Collet's got them. I'd have fetched 'em myself if she hadn't. +They've not taken Jack Banks, nor Mall. Left 'em for next time, maybe." + +"Well, I am thankful they took not you, Tabitha." + +"Me? They'd have had to swallow my red-hot poker afore they took me. I +count they frighted Christie a bit, fearing they'd have you; but I went +to see after the child, and peaced her metely well ere I came thence." + +"I am right thankful to you, sister. Tabitha, I have found Alice." + +"You have so?--and where is she?" + +Roger gave a detailed account of the circumstances. + +"Seems to me they want a taste of the poker there," said Tabitha in her +usual manner. "I'll buy a new one, so that I run not out of stock ere +customers come. But I scarce think old Jeremy'll dare come a-nigh me; +it'll be Sheriff himself, I reckon, when that piece of work's to be +done. If they come to your house, just you bid Nell set the poker in +the fire, and run over for me, and you keep 'em in talk while I come. +Or a good kettle of boiling water 'd do as well--I'm no wise nice which +it is--or if she'd a kettle of hot pitch handy, that's as good as +anything." + +"I thank you for your counsel, Tabitha. I trust there may be no need." + +"And I the like: but you might as well have the pitch ready." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +UNSTABLE AS WATER. + +"And I hope, my dear son," said the Rev. Mr Bastian, with a face and +voice as mellifluous as a honeycomb, "that all the members of your +household are faithful, and well affected towards the Church our +mother?" + +The Rev. Mr Bastian chose his words well. If he had said, "as +faithful as yourself," Mr Roberts might have assented, with an interior +conviction that his own faithfulness was not without its limits. He +left no such loophole of escape. Mr Roberts could only reply that he +entertained a similar hope. But whatever his hopes might be, his +expectations on that score were not extensive. Mr Roberts had the +nature of the ostrich, and imagined that if he shut his eyes to the +thing he wished to avoid seeing, he thereby annihilated its existence. +Deep down in his heart he held considerable doubts as concerned more +than one member of his family; but the doubts were uncomfortable: so he +put them to bed, drew the curtains, and told them to be good doubts and +go to sleep. When children are treated in this manner, mothers and +nurses know that sometimes they go to sleep. But sometimes they don't. +And doubts are very much like children in that respect. Occasionally +they consent to be smothered up and shelved aside; at other times they +break out and become provokingly noisy. A good deal depends on the +vitality of both the doubts and the children. + +Mr Roberts's doubts and fears--for they went together--that all his +household were not in a conformable state of mind, had hitherto gone to +sleep at his bidding; but lately they had been more difficult to manage. +He was uneasy about his sister, Mrs Collenwood; and with no diminution +of his affection for her, was beginning to realise that his mind would +be relieved when she ended her visit and went home. He feared her +influence over Pandora. For Gertrude he had no fears. He knew, and so +did the priest, that Gertrude was not the sort of girl to indulge in +abstract speculations, religious or otherwise. So long as her new gown +was not made in last year's fashion, and her mantua-maker did not put +her off with Venice ribbon when she wanted Tours, it mattered nothing at +all to Gertrude whether she attended mass or went to the nearest +conventicle. Nor had the fears spread yet towards Mistress Grena, who +still appeared at mass on Sunday and holy-days, though with many inward +misgivings which she never spoke. + +Perhaps the priest had sharper eyes than the easy-tempered master of +Primrose Croft. But his tongue had lost nothing of its softness when he +next inquired-- + +"And how long, my son, does your sister, Mistress Collenwood, abide with +you?" + +"Not much longer now, Father," replied the unhappy Mr Roberts, with a +private resolution that his answer should be true if he could make it +so. + +Mr Bastian left that unpleasant topic, and proceeded to carry his +queries into the servants' department, Mr Roberts growing more relieved +as he proceeded. He had never observed any want of conformity among his +servants, he assured the priest; so far as he knew, all were loyal to +the Catholic Church. By that term both gentlemen meant, not the +universal body of Christian believers (the real signification of the +word), but that minority which blindly obeys the Pope, and being a +minority, is of course not Catholic nor universal. When Mr Roberts's +apprehensions had thus been entirely lulled to rest, the wily priest +suddenly returned to the charge. + +"I need not, I am fully ensured," he said in his suave manner, "ask any +questions touching your daughters." + +"Of that, Father," answered Mr Roberts quickly, "you must be a better +judge than I. But I do most unfeignedly trust that neither of my maids +hath given you any trouble by neglect of her religious duties? +Gertrude, indeed, is so--" + +"Mistress Gertrude hath not given me trouble," replied the priest. "Her +worst failing is one common to maidens--a certain lack of soberness. +But I cannot conceal from you, my son, that I am under some uneasiness +of mind as touching her sister." + +Mr Bastian's uneasiness was nothing to that of the man he was engaged +in tormenting. The terrified mouse does not struggle more eagerly to +escape the claws of the cat, than the suffering father of Pandora to +avoid implicating her in the eyes of his insinuating confessor. + +"Forsooth, Father, you do indeed distress me," said he. "If Pandora +have heard any foolish talk on matters of religion, I would gladly break +her from communication with any such of her acquaintance as can have +been thus ill-beseen. Truly, I know not of any, and methought my sister +Grena kept the maids full diligently, that they should not fall into +unseemly ways. I will speak, under your good leave, with both of them, +and will warn Pandora that she company not with such as seem like to +have any power over her for evil." + +"Well said, my son!" responded the priest, with a slight twinkle in his +eye. "Therein shall you do well; and in especial if you report to me +the names of any that you shall suspect to have ill-affected the maiden. +And now, methinks, I must be on my way home." + +Mr Roberts devoutly thanked all the saints when he heard it. The +priest took up his hat, brushed a stray thread from its edge, and said, +as he laid his hand upon his silver-headed stick--said it as though the +idea had just occurred to him-- + +"You spake of Mistress Holland. She, of course, is true to holy Church +beyond all doubts?" + +Mr Roberts went back to his previous condition of a frightened mouse. + +"In good sooth, Father, I make no question thereof, nor never so did. +She conformeth in all respects, no doth she?" + +The cat smiled to itself at the poor mouse's writhings under its playful +pats. + +"She conformeth--ay: but I scarce need warn you, my son, that there be +many who conform outwardly, where the heart is not accordant with the +actions. I trust, in very deed, that it were an unjust matter so to +speak of Mistress Holland." + +Saying which, the cat withdrew its paw, and suffered the mouse to escape +to its hole until another little excitement should be agreeable to it. +In other words, the priest said good-bye, and left Mr Roberts in a +state of mingled relief for the moment and apprehension for the future. +For a few minutes that unhappy gentleman sat lost in meditation. Then +rising with a muttered exclamation, wherein "meddlesome praters" were +the only words distinguishable, he went to the foot of the stairs, and +called up them, "Pandora!" + +"There, now! You'll hear of something!" said Gertrude to her sister, as +she stood trying on a new apron before the glass. "You'd best go down. +When Father's charitably-minded he says either `Pan' or `Dorrie.' +`Pandora' signifies he's in a taking." + +"I have done nought to vex him that I know of," replied Pandora, rising +from her knees before a drawer wherein she was putting some lace tidily +away. + +"Well, get not me in hot water," responded Gertrude. "Look you, Pan, +were this lace not better to run athwart toward the left hand?" + +"I cannot wait to look, True; I must see what Father would have." + +As Pandora hastened downstairs, her aunt, Mrs Collenwood, came out of +her room and joined her. + +"I hear my brother calling you," she said. "I would fain have a word +with him, so I will go withal." + +The ladies found Mr Roberts wandering to and fro in the dining-room, +with the aspect of a very dissatisfied man. He turned at once to his +daughter. + +"Pandora, when were you at confession?" + +Pandora's heart beat fast. "Not this week, Father." + +"Nor this month, maybe?" + +"I am somewhat unsure, Father." + +"Went you to mass on Saint Chad's Day?" + +"Yes, Father." + +"And this Saint Perpetua?" + +"No, Father; I had an aching of mine head, you mind." + +"Thomas," interjected Mrs Collenwood, before the examination could +proceed further, "give me leave, pray you, to speak a word, which I +desire to say quickly, and you can resume your questioning of Pandora at +after. I think to return home Thursday shall be a se'nnight; and, your +leave granted, I would fain carry Pan with me. Methinks this air is not +entirely wholesome for her at this time; and unless I err greatly, it +should maybe save her some troublement if she tarried with me a season. +I pray you, consider of the same, and let me know your mind thereon as +early as may stand with your conveniency: and reckon me not tedious if I +urge you yet again not to debar the same without right good reason. I +fear somewhat for the child, without she can change the air, and that +right soon." + +Pandora listened in astonishment. She was quite unconscious of bodily +ailment, either present or likely to come. What could Aunt Frances +mean? But Mr Roberts saw, what Pandora did not, a very significant +look in his sister's eyes, which said, more plainly than her words, that +danger of some kind lay in wait for her niece if she remained in Kent, +and was to be expected soon. He fidgeted up and down the room for a +moment, played nervously with an alms-dish on the side-board, took up +Cicero's Orations and laid it down again, and at last said, in a tone +which indicated relief from vexation-- + +"Well, well! Be it so, if you will. Make thee ready, then, child, to +go with thine aunt. Doth Grena know your desire, Frank?" + +"Grena and I have taken counsel," replied Mrs Collenwood, "and this is +her avisement no less than mine." + +"Settle it so, then. I thank you, Frank, for your care for the maid. +When shall she return?" + +"It were better to leave that for time to come. But, Thomas, I go about +to ask a favour of you more." + +"Go to! what is it?" + +"That you will not name to any man Pandora's journey with me. Not to +any man," repeated Mrs Collenwood, with a stress on the last two words. + +Mr Roberts looked at her. Her eyes conveyed serious warning. He knew +as well as if she had shouted the words in his ears that the real +translation of her request was, "Do not tell the priest." But it was +not safe to say it. Wherever there are Romish priests, there must be +silent looks and tacit hints and unspoken understandings. + +"Very good, Frances," he said: "I will give no man to wit thereof." + +"I thank you right heartily, Tom. Should Dorrie abide here for your +further satisfying, or may she go with me?" + +"Go with you, go with you," answered Mr Roberts hastily, waving Pandora +away. "No need any further--time presseth, and I have business to see +to." + +Mrs Collenwood smiled silently as she motioned to Pandora to pass out. +Mr Roberts could scarcely have confessed more plainly that the priest +had set him to a catechising of which he was but too thankful to be rid. +"Poor Tom!" she said to herself. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +CHECK! + +Pandora would have spoken as soon as they left the dining-room, but she +was stopped by a motion of her aunt's hand. Mrs Collenwood took her +into her own bedroom, shut and barred the door, glanced inside a hanging +closet to see that no one was secreted there, and seating herself on the +cushioned seat which ran round the inside of the bay window, signed to +her niece to take a seat beside her. + +"Now, Dorrie, speak thy desire." + +"Aunt Frances, I am surprised with wonder! Pray you, what ail I, that I +must quit home thus suddenly? I feel right well, and knew not there was +aught ado with mine health." + +Pandora's voice betrayed a little alarm. It certainly was a startling +thing for a girl who felt and believed herself in excellent health, to +hear suddenly that unless she had instant change of air, serious +consequences might be expected to ensue. + +Mrs Collenwood smiled--an affectionate, almost compassionate smile--as +she patted Pandora's shoulder. + +"Take thine heart to thee, Dorrie. Thou art not sick, and if I can have +thee away in sufficient time, God allowing, thou shalt not be. But I +fear, if thou tarry, thou mayest have an attack of a certain pestilence +that is rife in Kent at this season." + +"Pestilence, Aunt Frances! I never heard of no such going about. But +if so, why I alone? There be Father, and True, and Aunt Grena--should +they not go likewise?" + +"No fear for Gertrude," answered Mrs Collenwood, almost sadly. "And +not much, methinks, for thy father. I am lesser sure of thine Aunt +Grena: but I have not yet been able to prevail with her to accompany +us." + +"But what name hath this pestilence, under your good leave, Aunt +Frances?" + +"It is called, Dorrie--persecution." + +The colour rose slowly in Pandora's cheeks, until her whole face was +suffused. + +"Methinks I take you now, Aunt," she said. "But, if I may have liberty +to ask at you, wherefore think you Father and True to be safer than Aunt +Grena and I?" + +"Because they would yield, Dorrie. I misdoubt any charge brought +against Gertrude; 'tis not such as she that come before religious +tribunals. They will know they have her safe enough." + +"Aunt Frances," said Pandora in a whisper, "think you I should not +yield?" + +"I hope thou wouldst not, Dorrie." + +"But how wist you--how could you know," asked the girl passionately, +"what I had kept so carefully concealed? How could you know that I +hated to go to mass, and availed myself of every whit of excuse that +should serve my turn to stay away from confession?--that I besought God +every night, yea, with tears, to do away this terrible state of matters, +and to grant us rulers under whom we might worship Him without fear, +according to His will and word? I counted I had hidden mine heart from +every eye but His. Aunt Frances, how _could_ you know?" + +Mrs Collenwood drew Pandora into her arms. + +"Because, my child, I had done the same." + +The girl's arms came round her aunt's neck, and their cheeks were +pressed close. + +"O Aunt Frances, I am so glad! I have so lacked one to speak withal +herein! I have thought at times, if I had but one human creature to +whom I might say a word!--and then there was nobody but God--I seemed +driven to Him alone." + +"That is blessed suffering, my dear heart, which drives souls to God; +and there he will come with nought lesser. Dorrie, methinks thou scarce +mindest thy mother?" + +"Oh, but I do, Aunt! She was the best and dearest mother that ever was. +True loves not to talk of her, nor of any that is dead; so that here +also I had to shut up my thoughts within myself; but I mind her--ay, +that I do!" + +"Niece, when she lay of her last sickness, she called me to her, and +quoth she--`Frances, I have been sore troubled for my little Dorrie: but +methinks now I have let all go, and have left her in the hands of God. +Only if ever the evil days should come again, and persecution arise +because of the witness of Jesus, and the Word of God, and the testimony +which we hold--tell her, if you find occasion, as her mother's last +dying word to her, that she hold fast the word of the truth of the +Gospel, and be not moved away therefrom, neither by persuading nor +threatening. 'Tis he that overcometh, and he only, that shall have the +crown of life.' Never till now, Pandora, my dear child, have I told +thee these words of thy dead and saintly mother. I pray God lay them on +thine heart, that thou mayest stand in the evil day--yea, whether thou +escape these things or no, thou mayest stand before the Son of Man at +His coming." + +Pandora had hidden her face on Mrs Collenwood's shoulder. + +"Oh, _do_ pray, Aunt Frances!" she said, with a sob. + +The days for a week after that were very busy ones. Every day some one +or two bags were packed, and quietly conveyed at nightfall by Mrs +Collenwood's own man to an inn about four miles distant. Pandora was +kept indoors, except one day, when she went with Mrs Collenwood to take +leave of Christie. That morning the priest called and expressed a wish +to speak to her: but being told that she was gone to see a friend, said +he would call again the following day. Of this they were told on their +return. Mrs Collenwood's cheeks paled a little; then, with set lips, +and a firm step, she sought her brother in his closet, or as we should +say, his study. + +"Tom," she said, when the door was safely shut, "we must be gone this +night." + +Mr Roberts looked up in considerable astonishment. + +"This night!--what mean you, Frances? The clouds be gathering for rain, +and your departure was fixed for Thursday." + +"Ay, the clouds be gathering," repeated Mrs Collenwood meaningly, "and +I am 'feared Pandora, if not I, may be caught in the shower. Have you +not heard that Father Bastian desired to speak with her whilst we were +hence this morrow? We must be gone, Tom, ere he come again." + +Mr Roberts, who was busy with his accounts, set down a five as the +addition of eight and three, with a very faint notion of what he was +doing. + +"Well!" he said, in an undecided manner. "Well! it is--it is not--it +shall look--" + +"How should it look," replied Mrs Collenwood, with quiet incisiveness, +"to see Pandora bound to the stake for burning?" + +Mr Roberts threw out his hands as if to push away the terrible +suggestion. + +"It may come to that, Tom, if we tarry. For, without I mistake, the +girl is not made of such willowy stuff as--some folks be." + +She just checked herself from saying, "as you are." + +Mr Roberts passed his fingers through his hair, in a style which said, +as plainly as words, that he was about at his wits' end. Perhaps he had +not far to go to reach that locality. + +"Good lack!" he said. "Dear heart!--well-a-day!" + +"She will be safe with me," said her aunt, "for a time at least. And if +danger draw near there also, I can send her thence to certain friends of +mine in a remote part amongst the mountains, where a priest scarce +cometh once in three years. And ere that end, God may work changes in +this world." + +"Well, if it must be--" + +"It must be, Tom; and it shall be for the best." + +"It had been better I had wist nought thereof. They shall be sure to +question me." + +Mrs Collenwood looked with a smile of pitying contempt on the man who +was weaker than herself. The contempt predominated at first: then it +passed into pity. + +"Thou shalt know nought more than now, Tom," she said quietly. "Go thou +up, and get thee a-bed, but leave the key of the wicket-gate on this +table." + +"I would like to have heard you had gat safe away," said poor Mr +Roberts, feeling in his pockets for the key. + +"You would speedily hear if we did not," was the answer. + +Mr Roberts sighed heavily as he laid down the key. + +"Well, I did hope to keep me out of this mess. I had thought, by +outward conforming, and divers rich gifts to the priest, and so forth-- +'Tis hard a man cannot be at peace in his own house." + +"'Tis far harder when he is not at peace in his own soul." + +"Ah!" The tone of the exclamation said that was quite too good to +expect, at any rate for the speaker. + +Mrs Collenwood laid her hand on her brother's shoulder. + +"Tom, we are parting for a long season--it may be for all time. Suffer +me speak one word with thee, for the sake of our loving mother, and for +her saintly sake that sleepeth in All Saints' churchyard, whose head lay +on my bosom when her spirit passed to God. There will come a day, good +brother, when thou shalt stand before an higher tribunal than that of my +Lord Cardinal, to hear a sentence whence there shall be none appeal. +What wouldst thou in that day that thou hadst done in this? As thou +wilt wish thou hadst done then, do now." + +"I--can't," faltered the unhappy waverer. + +"I would as lief be scalded and have done with it, Tom, as live in such +endless terror of hot water coming nigh me. Depend on it, it should be +the lesser suffering in the end." + +"There's Gertrude," he suggested in the same tone. + +"Leave Gertrude be. They'll not touch her. Gertrude shall be of that +religion which is the fashion, to the end of her days--without the Lord +turn her--and folks of that mettle need fear no persecution. Nay, Tom, +'tis not Gertrude that holdeth thee back from coming out on the Lord's +side. God's side is ever the safest in the end. It is thine own weak +heart and weak faith, wherein thou restest, and wilt not seek the +strength that can do all things, which God is ready to grant thee but +for the asking." + +"You are a good woman, Frances," answered her brother, with more feeling +than he usually showed, "and I would I were more like you." + +"Tarry not there, Tom: go on to `I would I were more like Christ.' +There be wishes that fulfil themselves; and aspirations after God be of +that nature. And now, dear brother, I commend thee to God, and to the +word of His grace. Be thou strong in the Lord, and in the power of His +might!" + +They kissed each other for the last time, and Mrs Collenwood stood +listening to the slow, heavy step which passed up the stairs and into +the bedroom overhead. When Mr Roberts had shut and barred his door, +she took up the key, and with a sigh which had reference rather to his +future than to her present, went to seek Pandora. Their little packages +of immediate necessaries were soon made up. When the clock struck +midnight--an hour at which in 1557 everybody was in bed--two well +cloaked and hooded women crept out of the low-silled window of the +dinning-room, and made their silent and solitary way through the shrubs +of the pleasure-ground to the little wicket-gate which opened on the +Goudhurst road. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +POTS AND PANS. + +Mrs Collenwood unlocked the little wicket, and let herself and Pandora +out into the public road. Then she relocked the gate, and after a +moment's thought, feeling in the darkness, she hung the key on a bush +close to the gate, where it could not be seen from the road. Both +ladies carried lanterns, for the omission of this custom would have +raised more suspicion than its observance, had they been met by any one, +and there were no public street lamps in those days. They were bound +first for the little hostelry, called the Nun's Head, in the village of +Lamberhurst, where Mrs Collenwood had desired her servant to await her; +the landlady of which was known to those in the secret to be one of "the +brethren," and was therefore sure to befriend and not betray them, if +she guessed the truth. Slowly and painfully they made their way by a +circuitous route, to avoid passing through Goudhurst, and Pandora, who +was not much accustomed to walking, began to be very tired before half +the way was traversed. They had just reached the road again, and were +making their way slowly through the ruts and puddles--for English roads +at that date were in a state which happily we can do little more than +imagine--when they heard the sound of hoofs a little way behind them. +Mrs Collenwood laid her hand on Pandora's arm. + +"Hide the lantern under thy cloak," she whispered; "and we will creep +into this field and 'bide quat under the hedge, till the party shall +have passed by." + +The advice was put into practice. The hoofs drew near, accompanied by a +jingling sound which seemed to come from pottery. It was now near one +o'clock. The ladies kept as still as mice. They were not reassured +when the sound came to a stand-still, just before the gate of the field +where they were hidden, and a man's voice, strange to them, said-- + +"It was just here I lost the sight of the lanterns. They cannot be far +off." + +Mrs Collenwood felt Pandora's hand clasp her wrist tight in the +darkness. + +"Bide a moment, Tom, and I will search in the field," said another +voice. + +Mrs Collenwood gave all up for lost. + +"Mistress Pandora, are you there?" said the voice which had last spoken. + +"Aunt Frances, 'tis Mr Hall!" cried Pandora joyfully. + +"Ah! I am right glad I have found you," said Roger, as he came up to +them. "I have been searching you this hour, being confident, from what +I heard, that you would attempt to get away to-night. I pray you to +allow of my company." + +"In good sooth, Mr Hall, we be right thankful of your good company," +answered Mrs Collenwood. "'Tis ill work for two weak women such as we +be." + +"Truly, my mistress, methinks you must both have lion-like hearts, so +much as to think of essaying your escape after this fashion. You will +be the safer for my presence. I have here an ass laden with pots and +pans, and driven by a good man and true, a Gospeller to boot--one of +your own men from the cloth-works, that is ready to guard his master's +daughter at the hazard of his life if need be. If you be willing, good +my mistress, to sell tins and pitchers in this present need--" + +"Use me as you judge best, Master Hall," said Mrs Collenwood heartily. +"I am willing to sell tins, or scour them, or anything, the better to +elude suspicion." + +"Well said. Then my counsel is that we turn right about, and pass +straight through Goudhurst, so soon as the dawn shall break. The +boldest way is at times the safest." + +"But is not that to lose time?" + +"To lose time is likewise sometimes to gun it," said Roger, with a +smile. "There is one danger, my mistresses, whereof you have not +thought. To all that see you as you are, your garb speaks you +gentlewomen, and gentlewomen be not wont to be about, in especial +unattended, at this hour of the night. If it please you to accept of my +poor provision, I have here, bound on the ass, two women's cloaks and +hoods of the common sort, such as shall better comport with the selling +of pots than silken raiment; and if I may be suffered to roll up the +cloaks you bear in like manner, you can shift you back to them when meet +is so to do." + +"Verily, 'tis passing strange that had never come to my mind!" replied +Mrs Collenwood. "Mr Hall, we owe you more thanks than we may lightly +speak." + +They changed their cloaks, rolling up those they took off, and tying +them securely on the donkey, covered by a piece of canvas, with which +Roger was provided. The hoods were changed in like manner. The donkey +was driven into the field in charge of Tom Hartley, who pulled his +forelock to his ladies; and the trio sat down to await daylight. + +"And if it like you, my mistresses," added Roger, "if it should please +Mistress Collenwood to speak to me by the name of Hodge, and Mistress +Pandora by that of father or uncle, methinks we should do well." + +"Nay, Mr Hall; but I will call you brother," said Pandora, smiling; +"for that is what you truly are, both in the Gospel and in descent from +Adam." + +In perfect quiet they passed the five hours which elapsed ere the sun +rose. As soon as ever the light began to break, Roger led forth the +donkey; Tom trudging behind with a stick, and the ladies walked +alongside. + +Rather to their surprise, Roger took his stand openly in the market +place of Goudhurst, where he drove a brisk trade with his pots and pans; +Mrs Collenwood taking up the business as if she had been to the manner +born, and much to Pandora's admiration. + +"Brown pitchers, my mistress? The best have we, be sure. Twopence the +dozen, these; but we have cheaper if your honour wish them." + +Another time it was, "What lack you, sweet sir? Chafing-dishes, +shaving-basins, bowls, goblets, salts? All good and sound--none of your +trumpery rubbish!" + +And Roger and Tom both lifted up sonorous voices in the cry of-- + +"Pots and pans! Pots and pa-ans! Chargers, dishes, plates, cups, +bowls, por-ring-ers! Come buy, come buy, come buy!" + +The articles were good--Roger had seen to that--and they went off +quickly. Ladies, country housewives, farmers, substantial yeomen, with +their wives and daughters, came up to buy, until the donkey's load was +considerably diminished. At length a priest appeared as a customer. +Pandora's heart leaped into her mouth; and Mrs Collenwood, as she +produced yellow basins for his inspection, was not entirely without her +misgivings. But the reverend gentleman's attention seemed concentrated +on the yellow basins, of which he bought half-a-dozen for a penny, and +desired them to be delivered at the Vicarage. Roger bowed extra low as +he assured the priest that the basins should be there, without fail, in +an hour, and having now reduced his goods to a load of much smaller +dimensions, he intimated that they "might as well be moving forward." +The goods having been duly delivered, Roger took the road to +Lamberhurst, and they arrived without further misadventure at the Nun's +Head, where Mrs Collenwood's servant, Zachary, was on the look-out for +them. + +To Mrs Collenwood's amusement, Zachary did not recognise her until she +addressed him by name; a satisfactory proof that her disguise was +sufficient for the purpose. They breakfasted at the Nun's Head, on +Canterbury brawn (for which that city was famous) and a chicken pie, and +resumed their own attire, but carrying the cloaks of Roger's providing +with them, as a resource if necessity should arise. + +"Aunt Frances," said Pandora, as they sat at breakfast, "I never thought +you could have made so good a tradeswoman. Pray you, how knew you what +to say to the folks?" + +"Why, child!" answered Mrs Collenwood, laughing, "dost reckon I have +never bought a brown pitcher nor a yellow basin, that I should not know +what price to ask?" + +"Oh, I signified not that so much, Aunt; but--all the talk, and the +fashion wherein you addressed you to the work." + +"My mother--your grandmother, Dorrie--was used to say to me, `Whatever +thou hast ado with, Frank, put thine heart and thy wits therein.' 'Tis +a good rule, and will stand a woman in stead for better things than +selling pots." + +Zachary had made full provision for his mistress's journey. The horses +were ready, and the baggage-mules also. He rode himself before Mrs +Collenwood, and an old trustworthy man-servant was to sit in front of +Pandora. All was ready for proceeding at half-an-hour's notice, and +Mrs Collenwood determined to go on at once. + +When it came to the leave-taking, she drew a gold ring from her finger, +and gave it to Tom Hartley, with a promise that his master should hear +through Roger Hall, so soon as the latter deemed it safe, of the very +essential service which he had rendered her. Then she turned to Roger +himself. + +"But to you, Mr Hall," she said, "how can I give thanks, or in what +words clothe them? Verily, I am bankrupt therein, and can only thank +you to say I know not how." + +"Dear mistress," answered Roger, "have you forgot that 'tis I owe thanks +to you, that you seek to magnify my simple act into so great deserving? +They that of their kindness cheer my little suffering Christie's lonely +life, deserve all the good that I can render them. My little maid +prayed me to say unto you both that she sent you her right loving +commendations, and that she would pray for your safe journey every day +the whilst it should last, and for your safety and good weal afterward. +She should miss you both sorely, quoth she; but she would pray God to +bless you, and would strive to her utmost to abide by all your good and +kindly counsel given unto her." + +"Dear little Christie!" said Pandora affectionately. "I pray you, +Master Hall, tell her I shall never forget her, and I trust God may +grant us to meet again in peace." + +"I cast no doubt of that, Mistress Pandora," was the grave answer, +"though 'twill be, very like, in a better land than this." + +"And I do hope," added she, "that Mistress Benden may ere long be set +free." + +Roger shook his head. + +"I have given up that hope," he said; "yea, well-nigh all hopes, for +this lower world." + +"There is alway hope where God is," said Mrs Collenwood. + +"Truth, my mistress," he replied; "but God is in Heaven, and hope is +safest there." + +It was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning when the travellers set out +from the Nun's Head. Roger Hall stood in the doorway, looking after +them, until the last glimpse could no longer be perceived. Then, with a +sigh, he turned to Tom Hartley, who stood beside him. + +"Come, Tom!" he said, "let us, thou and I, go home and do God's will." + +"Ay, master, and let God do His will with us," was the cheery answer. + +Then the two men and the donkey set out for Cranbrook. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +CAT AND MOUSE. + +It was Mr Roberts's custom to go down to the cloth-works every +Tuesday--saints' days excepted--and in pursuance of this habit he made +his appearance in the counting-house on the morning after the departure +of the two ladies. Roger Hall was at his post as usual, waited on his +master, gave in his accounts, and received his orders. When the other +business was over, Roger said, in the same tone and manner as before-- + +"Those two parcels of rare goods, master, sent forth yester-even, that +you wot of, I saw myself so far as Lamberhurst, and they be in safe +hands for the further journey." + +Mr Roberts did not at once, as might now be done, ask Roger what he was +talking about. The days of Romish ascendency in England were days when +everybody knew that if a man's meaning were not simple and apparent, +there was probably some reason why he dared not speak too plainly, and +it was perilous to ask for an explanation. Mr Roberts looked up into +his manager's face, and at once guessed his meaning. He was seriously +alarmed to see it. How had Roger Hall become possessed of that +dangerous secret, which might bring him to prison if it were known? For +the penalty for merely "aiding and abetting" a heretic was "perpetual +prison." Those who gave a cup of cold water to one of Christ's little +ones did it at the peril of their own liberty. + +Let us pause for a moment and try to imagine what that would be to +ourselves. Could we run such risks for Christ's sake--knowing that on +every hand were spies and enemies who would be only too glad to bring us +to ruin, not to speak of those idle gossiping people who do much of the +world's mischief, without intending harm? It would be hard work to +follow the Master when He took the road to Gethsemane. Only love could +do it. Would our love stand that sharp test? + +All this passed in a moment. What Mr Roberts said was only--"Good. +Well done." Then he bent his head over the accounts again; raising it +to say shortly--"Hall, prithee shut yon door; the wind bloweth in cold +this morrow." Roger Hall obeyed silently: but a change came over Mr +Roberts as soon as the door was shut on possible listening ears. He +beckoned Roger to come close to him. + +"How wist you?" he whispered. + +"Guessed it, Master." It was desirable to cut words as short as +possible. "Saw him go up to your house. Thought what should follow." + +"You followed them?" + +"No; came too late. Searched, and found them in a field near +Goudhurst." + +A shudder came over Pandora's father at the thought of what might have +been, if the priest had been the searcher. + +"Any one else know?" + +"Tom Hartley--true as steel, Master. Two were needful for my plan. +Mistress bade me commend him to you, as he that had done her right good +service." + +"He shall fare the better for it. And you likewise." + +Roger smiled. "I did but my duty, Master." + +"How many folks do so much?" asked Mr Roberts, with a sigh. _He_ could +not have said that. After a moment's thought he added--"Raise Hartley +twopence by the week; and take you twenty pounds by the year instead of +sixteen as now." + +"I thank you, Master," said Roger warmly: "but it was not for that." + +"I know--I know!" answered the master, as he held out his hand to clasp +that of his manager--a rare and high favour at that time. And then, +suddenly, came one of those unexpected, overpowering heart-pourings, +which have been said to be scarcely more under the control of the giver +than of the recipient. "Hall, I could not have done this thing. How +come you to have such strength and courage? Would I had them!" + +"Master, I have neither, save as I fetch them from Him that hath. `I +can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me.'" + +"He doth not strengthen me!" moaned the weak man. + +"Have you asked Him, Master?" quietly replied the strong one. + +Mr Roberts made no answer, and Roger knew that meant a negative. In +his heart the master was conscious that he had not asked. He had said +multitudinous "paters" and "aves," had repeated "Hail Marys" by the +score--all the while half thinking of something else; but never once in +his inmost soul had he said to the Lord--"Saviour, I am weak; make me +strong." A few minutes' silence, and Mr Roberts turned back to the +accounts, half-ashamed that he had allowed that glimpse of his true self +to be seen. And Roger Hall said no more, except to God. + +The master went home to supper at four o'clock. Ten was then the hour +for dinner, four for supper; people who kept late hours made it eleven +and five. As Mr Roberts came in sight of his own door, his heart sank +down into his shoes. On the door-step stood a black-robed figure which +he knew only too well, and which he would gladly have given a handful of +gold to know he might have no chance of seeing for a month to come. A +faint idea of hiding himself in the shrubs crossed his mind for a +moment; but he could not stay there for an indefinite time, and the +priest would in all probability wait for him, if it were he whom he +meant to see. No, it would be better to go forward and get it over; but +it was with a fervid wish that it were over that Mr Roberts went on and +deferentially saluted his Rector. + +That reverend gentleman thoroughly understood his man. Had it been +possible to gauge the human soul with a thermometer, he could have +guessed with accuracy how it would read. He met him, not with severity, +but with a deep gravity which conveyed the idea that something serious +required discussion, and that he earnestly hoped the culprit would be +able to clear himself of the charge. + +In the hall they were met by Mistress Grena and Gertrude, who had seen +them coming, and who came forward, as in duty bound, to show extra +respect to their spiritual pastor. The genuine spirituality was more +than dubious: but that did not matter. He was a "spiritual person"-- +though the person was exceedingly unspiritual! + +The priest gave a blessing to the ladies with two fingers extended in a +style which must require some practice, and at Mistress Grena's request +sat down with them to supper. During the meal the conversation was +general, though the priest retained his serious aspect of something +unpleasant to come. The heavy part of the supper was over, and cheese, +with late apples, Malaga raisins, and Jordan almonds, had made their +appearance; the ladies prepared to withdraw. + +"Mistress Holland," said the Rector, "I beseech you to tarry yet a +little season"--adding to Gertrude, "I need not detain you, my +daughter." + +Gertrude escaped with great satisfaction. "Those two are going to catch +it!" she said to herself; "I am glad I am out of it!" Mr Roberts knew +sorrowfully that the surmise was woefully true, but he was rather +relieved to find that his sister-in-law was "going to catch it" with +him. Her presence was a sort of stick for him to lean on. + +"My son," said the Rector to Mr Roberts, with an air of sorrowful +reluctance to begin a distasteful piece of work, "it troubleth me sorely +to do that I must needs do, but necessity hath no law. Remember, I pray +you, that as yesterday I called here, desiring to have speech of your +youngest daughter, and was told by Osmund your butler that she was +visiting a friend." + +"That was fully truth, Father," said Mistress Grena, as if she supposed +that the Rector was about to complain of some duplicity on the part of +Osmund. + +Mr Bastian waved aside the assurance. + +"I left word," he continued, repeating the words with emphasis, "_I left +word_ that I would call to see her this morrow. Here am I; and what +have I now learned? That she left this house yester-even, without so +much as a word of excuse, not to say a beseechment of pardon, when she +knew that I purposed having speech of her." His voice became more +stern. "Is this the manner wherein ye deal with the ministers of holy +Church? Truly, had I just cause to suspect your fidelity to her, this +were enough to proceed on. But trusting ye may yet have ability to +plead your excuse"--a slightly more suave tone was allowed to soften the +voice--"I wait to hear it, ere I take steps that were molestous to you, +and truly unwelcome unto me. What say ye in extenuation thereof?" + +"We are verily sorry, Father," came quietly from Mistress Grena, "that +no meet apology hath been offered unto you for this discourtesy, and we +pray you of your grace and goodness right gentilly to accept the same +even now. Truly the matter stands thus: Our sister, Mistress +Collenwood, had in purpose to tarry with us divers days longer; but +yester-even tidings came unto her the which caused her to hasten her +departure, not tarrying so much as one night more; and as she had +desired to take Pandora withal, it was needful that her departure should +be hastened likewise. You wot well, good Father, I am assured, the +bustle and business caused by such sudden resolve, and the little time +left for thought therein: but for any consequent lack of respect unto +yourself and your holy office, we are full sorry, and do right humbly +entreat you of pardon." + +Mr Roberts breathed more freely. He thought the woman's wit was about +to prevail, and to salve over the offence. + +The priest, on his part, perceived with regret that he had made a +mistake in retaining Mistress Grena. Her representations were very +plausible, and she was not so easily cowed as her brother-in-law. He +considered a moment how to proceed. + +"In truth, my daughter," he said, addressing her, "you have fully made +your excuse, and I allow it right gladly. I may well conceive that in +the haste and labour of making ready on so sudden summons, both you and +your niece may easily have forgat the matter. I need not keep you +longer from your household duties. God grant you a good even!" + +Mistress Grena had no resource but to withdraw in answer to this +dismissal, her heart filled with sore forebodings. She had hoped the +excuse might be held to cover the whole family; but it was evident the +priest had no intention of accepting it as including the male portion +thereof. As she passed Mr Roberts, with her back to the priest, she +gave him a warning look; but her hope that he would take the warning was +as small as it could well be. + +"And now, my son," said the Rector softly, turning to his remaining +victim, "how say you? Were you likewise busied in preparing the +gentlewomen for their journey?" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +COUNTERPLOT. + +A man to be very much pitied was poor Mr Roberts. Not only had he to +pacify the priest, but Mistress Grena's line of defence, plausible as it +sounded, had unhappily crossed and invalidated the excuse he had +intended to make for himself. His faint, hazy purpose up to that time +had been to deny any knowledge of the escape; but after it had been thus +represented as a natural, every-day occurrence, how was he to keep up +the story? Yet he had no other ready. + +"No, Father--ay, it--I was a-bed," was his blundering reply. + +The priest's voice was sweet as a newly-tuned piano. + +"Was it not strange, my son, that you heard no sounds from beneath? Or +went you up, knowing what was passing?" + +What was the poor man to do? If he acknowledged that he knew of the +escape of the fugitives, he laid himself open to the charge of "aiding +and abetting"; if he denied it, he practically denied also the truth of +Grena's defence. At that moment he would have given every acre and +shilling in his possession to be free from this horrible +cross-questioning. + +The cat watched the poor mouse wriggle with grim satisfaction. Either +way, it would come to its claws at last. + +Suddenly the scene of the morning was reproduced to the mind's eye of +the tortured man. Roger Hall's voice seemed to say again--"Have you +asked Him, Master?" Faintly, tremblingly in the unwontedness of the +act, the request was made, and even that slight contact with the +unchanging Rock steadied the wavering feet. He must speak truth, and +uphold Grena. + +"Father," he said in a changed tone, "my sister told you true. The +journey was hastened, and that suddenly." + +The change in his tone puzzled the priest. What had come to the man, in +that momentary interval, to nerve him thus anew? + +"How came the news, my son?" + +Mr Roberts was thankfully able to answer that he knew not. + +"But surely, with so much baggage as Mistress Collenwood must have borne +withal, the number of horses that left your house could not but be noted +of them in the vicinage. Yet I am told no sound was heard." + +"My sister sent the most part of her baggage away before her," was the +answer. + +"Remember," said the Rector sternly, "the sin you incur if you deceive a +priest!" + +"I have not spoken one untrue word, Father." + +At that moment the door-bell was rung, and answered by Osmund, who, +coming into the room, deferentially informed the priest that my Lord +Cardinal had sent his sumner to the Rectory, with a command that he, Mr +Bastian, should attend his court at eight o'clock on the following +morning. The interruption was welcome to both parties. The priest was +perplexed, and wanted time to think, no less than Mr Roberts. He had +anticipated an easy victory, and found himself unaccountably baffled. + +In the present day, no English gentleman would bear such questioning by +a priest. The latter would very soon be told, in however civil +language, that an Englishman's house was his castle, and that he held +himself responsible for his actions to God alone. But the iron terror +of Rome was then over every heart. No priest could be defied, nor his +questions evaded, with impunity. If those days ever come back, it will +be the fault and the misery of Englishmen who would not take warning by +the past, but who suffered the enemy to creep in again "while men +slept." The liberties of England, let us never forget, were bought with +the blood of the Marian martyrs. + +No sooner had the priest departed than Mistress Grena silently slid into +the room. She had evidently been on the watch. + +"Brother," she said, in a voice which trembled with doubt and fear, +"what have you told him?" + +"What you told him, Grena." + +"Oh!" The exclamation spoke of intense relief. + +"But you may thank Roger Hall for it." + +"Roger Hall!--what ado had he therewith?" + +"If you ask at him," answered Mr Roberts with a smile, "methinks he +will scarce know." + +"Will he come again?" she asked fearfully--not alluding to Roger Hall. + +"I wis not. Very like he will--maybe till he have consumed us. Grena, +I know not how it hath been with you, but for me, I have been an arrant +coward. God aiding me, I will be thus no longer, but will go forth in +the strength of the Lord God. Believe you these lying wonders and +deceitful doctrines? for I do not, and have never so done, though I have +made believe to do it. I will make believe no longer. I will be a man, +and no more a puppet, to be moved at the priest's pleasure. Thank God, +Pan is safe, and Gertrude is not like to fall in trouble. How say you? +Go you with me, or keep you Gertrude's company?" + +Then Grena Holland broke down. All her little prim preciseness +vanished, and the real woman she was came out of her shell and showed +herself. + +"O Tom!" she said, sobbing till she could hardly speak: for when +restrained, self-contained natures like hers break down, they often do +it utterly. "O Tom! God bless thee, and help me to keep by thee, and +both of us to be faithful to the end! I too have sinned and done +foolishly, and set evil ensample. Forgive me, my brother, and God +forgive us both!" + +Mr Roberts passed his arm round her, and gave her the kiss of peace. + +"Methinks we had best forgive each the other, Grena; and I say Amen to +thy `God forgive us both!'" + +When Mr Bastian arrived at Canterbury a little after daybreak the next +morning, he found, as he had expected, that while the message had been +sent in the name of Cardinal Pole, it was really the Bishop of Dover who +required his attendance. The Bishop wanted to talk with the parish +priest concerning the accused persons from his parish. He read their +names from a paper whereon he had them noted down--"John Fishcock, +butcher; Nicholas White, ironmonger; Nicholas Pardue, cloth-worker; +Alice Benden, gentlewoman; Barbara Final, widow, innkeeper; Sens +Bradbridge, widow; Emmet Wilson, cloth-worker's wife." + +"Touching Alice Benden," said the Bishop, "I require no note at your +hands; I have divers times spoken with her, and know her to be a right +obstinate heretic, glorying in her errors. 'Tis the other concerning +whom I would have some discourse with you. First, this John Fishcock, +the butcher: is he like to be persuaded or no?" + +"Methinks, nay, my Lord: yet am I not so full sure of him as of some +other. The two Nicholases, trow, are surer of the twain. You should as +soon shake an ancient oak as White; and Pardue, though he be a man of +few words, is of stubborn conditions." + +"Those men of few words oft-times are thus. And how for the women, +Brother? Barbara Final--what is she?" + +"A pleasant, well-humoured, kindly fashion of woman; yet methinks not +one to be readily moved." + +"Sens Bradbridge?" + +"A poor creature--weakly, with few wits. I should say she were most +like of any to recant, save that she hath so little wit, it were scarce +to our credit if she so did." + +The Bishop laughed. "Emmet Wilson?" + +"A plain woman, past middle age, of small learning, yet good wit by +nature. You shall not move her, holy Father, or I mistake." + +"These heretics, what labour they give us!" said Dick of Dover, rather +testily. "'Tis passing strange they cannot conform and have done with +it, and be content to enjoy their lives and liberties in peace." + +Having no principle himself, the Bishop was unable to comprehend its +existence in other people. Mr Bastian was a shade wiser--not that he +possessed much principle, but that he could realise the fact of its +existence. + +"There is one other point, holy Father," said he, seeing that the Bishop +was about to dismiss him, "whereon, if it stand with your Lordship's +pleasure, I would humbly seek your counsel." + +The Bishop rubbed his hands, and desired Mr Bastian to proceed. The +labour which the heretics gave him was very well to complain of, but to +him the excitement of discovering a new heretic was as pleasurable as +the unearthing of a fox to a keen sportsman. Dick of Dover, having no +distinct religious convictions, was not more actuated by personal enmity +to the persecuted heretic than the sportsman to the persecuted fox. +They both liked the run, the excitement, the risks, and the glory of the +sport. + +"To tell truth, my Lord," continued Mr Bastian, dropping his voice, "I +am concerned touching a certain parishioner of mine, a gentleman, I am +sorry to say, of name and ancient family, cousin unto Mr Roberts of +Glassenbury, whose name you well know as one of the oldest houses in +Kent." + +The Bishop nodded assent. + +"'Tis true, during King Edward's time, he went for one of the new +learning; but he conformed when the Queen came in, and ever sithence +have I regarded him as a good Catholic enough, till of late, when I am +fallen to doubt it, to my great concern." And Mr Bastian proceeded to +relate to the Bishop all that he knew respecting the flight of the +ladies, and his subsequent unsatisfactory interview with the heads of +the family. The Bishop listened intently. + +"This young maid," said he, when the narrative was finished, "what said +you was her name--Gertrude?--this Gertrude, then, you account of as +faithful to holy Church?" + +"She hath ever been regular at mass and confession, my Lord, and +performeth all her duties well enough. For other matter, methinks, she +is somewhat light-minded, and one that should cast more thought to the +colour of her sleeves than to the length of her prayers." + +"None the worse for that," said Dick of Dover--adding hastily, as the +unclerical character of his remark struck him--"for this purpose, of +course, I signify; for this purpose. Make you a decoy of her, Brother, +to catch the other." + +"I cry your Lordship mercy, but I scarce take you. Her father and aunt +do come to confession--somewhat irregularly, 'tis true; but they do +come; and though the woman be cautious and wily, and can baffle my +questions if she will, yet is the man transparent as glass, and timid as +an hare. At least, he hath been so until this time; what turned him I +wis not, but I am in hopes it shall not last." + +"Move this girl Gertrude to listen behind the arras, when as they talk +together," suggested the Bishop. "Make her promises--of anything she +valueth, a fine horse, a velvet gown, a rich husband--whatever shall be +most like to catch her." + +Mr Bastian smiled grimly, as he began to see the plot develop. + +"'Tis an easy matter to beguile a woman," said the Bishop, who, being +very ignorant of women, believed what he said: "bait but your trap with +something fine enough, and they shall walk in by shoals like herrings. +Saving these few obstinate simpletons such as Alice Benden, that you can +do nought with, they be light enough fish to catch. Catch Gertrude, +Brother." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +BEFORE DICK OF DOVER. + +"Perkins!" said a rather pompous voice. + +Perkins was the Cathedral bell-ringer, and the gaoler of Alice Benden. +He obeyed the summons of the pompous voice with obsequious celerity, for +it belonged to no less a person than the Lord Bishop of Dover. His +Lordship, having caught sight of the bell-ringer as he crossed the +precincts, had called him, and Perkins came up, his hat in one hand, and +pulling his forelock with the other. + +"I desire to know, Perkins," said the Bishop, "if that man that is your +prisoner's brother hath yet been arrested, as I bade?" + +"Well, nay, my Lord, he haven't," said Perkins, his heart fluttering and +his grammar questionable. + +"And wherefore no?" asked the Bishop sternly. + +"Well, my Lord, truth is, I haven't chanced on him since." + +"He hath not visited his sister, then?" + +"Well," answered Perkins, who seemed to find that word a comfort, "ay, +he have; but him and me, we hasn't been at same time, not yet." + +"Call you that diligence in the keeping of your prisoner?" + +"Please your Lordship, she's there, all safe." + +"I bade you arrest _him_," insisted the Bishop. + +Perkins chewed a sprig of dried lavender, and kept silence. + +"I am sore displeased with you, Perkins!" + +Perkins looked provokingly obtuse. If the Bishop had only known it, he +was afraid of vexing him further by saying anything, and accordingly he +said nothing. + +"Keep diligent watch for the man, and seize him when he cometh again. +As for the woman, bring her before me to-morrow at nine o' the clock. +Be careful what you do, as you value my favour." + +Perkins pulled his forelock again, and departed. + +"The man is hard as a stone," said the Bishop to one of the Canons, with +whom he was walking: "no impression can be made upon him." + +"He is scantly the worse gaoler for that, under your Lordship's +correction," said the Canon carelessly. + +"He makes an hard keeper, I cast no doubt," answered the Bishop. + +Perkins's demeanour changed as soon as his Lordship had passed out of +sight and hearing. + +"Dick o' Dover's in a jolly fume!" he said to one of the vergers whom he +met. + +"Why, what's angered him?" + +"I have, belike, that I catched not yon man, Mistress Benden's brother, +a-coming to see her. Why, the loon's full o' wiles--never comes at +after sunrise. It'd take an eel to catch him. And I'm not his +thief-catcher, neither. I works hard enough without that. Old Dick may +catch his eels his self if he lacks 'em." + +"Work 'll never kill thee, Jack Perkins," replied the verger, with a +laugh. "Thou'dst best not get across with Dick o' Dover; he's an ugly +customer when he's in the mind." + +The right reverend prelate to whom allusion was thus unceremoniously +made, was already seated on his judgment bench when, at nine o'clock the +next morning, Perkins threw open the door of Monday's Hole. + +"Come forth, Mistress; you're to come afore the Bishop." + +"You must needs help me up, then, for I cannot walk," said Alice Benden +faintly. + +Perkins seized her by the arm, and dragged her up from the straw on +which she was lying. Alice was unable to repress a slight moan. + +"Let be," she panted; "I will essay to go by myself; only it putteth me +to so great pain." + +With one hand resting on the wall, she crept to the door, and out into +the passage beyond. Again Perkins seized her--this time by the +shoulder. + +"You must make better speed than this, Mistress," he said roughly. +"Will you keep the Lord Bishop a-waiting?" + +Partly limping by herself, partly pulled along by Perkins, and at the +cost of exquisite suffering, for she was crippled by rheumatism, Alice +reached the hall wherein the Bishop sat. He received her in the suavest +manner. + +"Now, my good daughter, I trust your lesson, which it was needful to +make sharp, hath been well learned during these weeks ye have had time +for meditation. Will you now go home, and go to church, and conform you +to the Catholic religion as it now is in England? If you will do this, +we will gladly show you all manner of favour; ye shall be our white +child, I promise you, and any requests ye may prefer unto us shall have +good heed. Consider, I pray you, into what evil case your obstinacy +hath hitherto brought you, and how blissful life ye might lead if ye +would but renounce your womanish opinions, and be of the number of the +Catholics. Now, my daughter, what say you?" + +Then Alice Benden lifted her head and answered. + +"I am thoroughly persuaded, by the great extremity that you have already +showed me, that you are not of God, neither can your doings be godly; +and I see that you seek mine utter destruction. Behold, I pray you, how +lame I am of cold taken, and lack of food, in that painful prison +wherein I have lain now these nine weary weeks, that I am not able to +move without great pain." + +"You shall find us right different unto you, if you will but conform," +replied the Bishop, who, as John Bunyan has it, had "now all besugared +his lips." + +"Find you as it list you, I will have none ado with you!" answered the +prisoner sturdily. + +But at that moment, trying to turn round, the pain was so acute that it +brought the tears to her eyes, and a groan of anguish to her lips. The +Bishop's brows were compressed. + +"Take her to West Gate," he said hastily. "Let her be clean kept, and +see a physician if she have need." + +The gaoler of West Gate was no brutal, selfish Perkins, but a man who +used his prisoners humanely. Here Alice once again slept on a bed, was +furnished with decent clean clothing and sufficient food. But such was +the effect of her previous suffering, that after a short time, we are +told, her skin peeled off as if she had been poisoned. + +One trouble Alice had in her new prison--that she must now be deprived +of Roger's visits. She was not even able to let him know of the change. +But Roger speedily discovered it, and it was only thanks to the +indolence of Mr Perkins, who was warm in bed, and greatly indisposed to +turn out of it, that he was not found out and seized on that occasion. +Once more he had to search for his sister. No secret was made of the +matter this time; and by a few cautious inquiries Roger discovered that +she had been removed to West Gate. His hopes sprang up on hearing it, +not only because, as he knew, she would suffer much less in the present, +but also because he fondly trusted that it hinted at a possibility of +release in the future. It was with a joyful heart that he carried the +news home to Christabel, and found her Aunt Tabitha sitting with her. + +"O Father, how delightsome!" cried Christie, clapping her hands. "Now +if those ill men will only let dear Aunt Alice come home--" + +"When the sky falleth, we may catch many larks," said Tabitha, in her +usual grim fashion. "Have you told him?" + +"Whom?--Edward Benden? No, I'm in no haste to go near him." + +"I would, if I knew it should vex him." + +"Tabitha!" said Roger, with gentle reproval. + +"Roger Hall, if you'd had to stand up to King Ahab, you'd have made a +downright poor Elijah!" + +"Very like, Tabitha. I dare say you'd have done better." + +"Father," said Christie, "did you hear what should come of Master White, +and Mistress Final, and all the rest." + +"No, my dear heart: I could hear nought, save only that they were had up +afore my Lord of Dover, and that he was very round with them, but all +they stood firm." + +"What, Sens Bradbridge and all?" said Tabitha. "I'd have gone bail that +poor sely hare should have cried off at the first shot of Dick o' +Dover's arrow. Stood _she_ firm, trow?" + +"All of them, I heard. Why, Tabitha, the Lord's grace could hold up +Sens Bradbridge as well as Tabitha Hall." + +"There'd be a vast sight more wanted, I promise you!" said Tabitha +self-righteously. "There isn't a poorer creature in all this 'varsal +world, nor one with fewer wits in her head than Sens Bradbridge. I +marvel how Benedick stood her; but, dear heart! men are that stupid! +Christie, don't you never go to marry a man. I'll cut you off with a +shilling an' you do." + +"Cut me off what, Aunt Tabitha?" inquired Christie, with some alarm in +her tone. + +"Off my good-will and favour, child." + +"Thank you, Aunt Tabitha, for telling me I didn't know I was on," said +Christie simply. + +"Good lack!" exclaimed Tabitha, in a tone which was a mixture of +amusement and annoyance. "Did the child think I cared nought about her, +forsooth?" + +"O Aunt Tabitha, do you?" demanded Christie, in a voice of innocent +astonishment. "I am so glad. Look you, whenever you come, you always +find fault with me for something, so I thought you didn't." + +"Bless the babe! Dost think I should take all that trouble to amend +thee, if I loved thee not?" + +"Well, perhaps--" said Christie hesitatingly. + +"But Aunt Alice always tried to mend me, and so does Father: but somehow +they don't do it like you, Aunt Tabitha." + +"They're both a deal too soft and sleek with thee," growled Aunt +Tabitha. "There's nought 'll mend a child like a good rattling +scolding, without 'tis a thrashing, and thou never hast neither." + +"Art avised [are you sure] o' that, Tabitha?" asked Roger. "God sends +not all His rain in thunderstorms." + +"Mayhap not; but He does send thunderstorms, and earthquakes too," +returned Tabitha triumphantly. + +"I grant you; but the thunderstorms are rare, and the earthquakes yet +rarer; and the soft dew cometh every night. And 'tis the dew and the +still small rain, not the earthquakes, that maketh the trees and flowers +to grow." + +"Ah, well, you're mighty wise, I cast no doubt," answered Tabitha, +getting up to go home. "But I tell you I was well thrashed, and scolded +to boot, and it made a woman of me." + +"I suppose, Father," said Christie, when Tabitha had taken her +departure, "that the scolding and beating did make a woman of Aunt +Tabitha; but please don't be angry if I say that it wasn't as pleasant a +woman as Aunt Alice." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +"A RUCK OF TROUBLE." + +"Well, be sure! if there ever was a woman in such a ruck of trouble!" +said poor Collet Pardue, wiping her eyes. "Here's my man took to +prison, saints knows what for--my man 'at was as quiet as ever a mouse, +and as good to me as if he'd ha' been a cherubim, and me left with all +them childre--six lads and four lasses--eight o' my own, and two of poor +Sens's--and the lads that mischievous as I scarce knows whether I'm on +my head or my heels one half o' the day! Here's that Silas a-been and +took and dropped the bucket down the well, and never a drop o' water can +we get. And Aphabell he's left the gate open, and nine out o' my +fourteen chicken strayed away. And I sent Toby for a loaf o' +biscuit-bread, a-thinking it'd be a treat for the little uns, and me not +having a mite o' time to make it--and if the rogue hasn't been and ate +it all up a-coming home--there's the crumbs on his jacket this minute!" + +"I didn't!" shouted Tobias resentfully, in answer to this unjust +accusation. "I didn't eat it all up! I gave half on it to Esdras--a +good half." The last words were uttered in a tone of conscious virtue, +the young gentleman evidently feeling that his self-denial was not +meeting its due reward. + +"Ha' done then, thou runagate!" returned his mother, aiming a slap at +him, which Tobias dodged by a dip of his head. "Eh, deary me, but they +are a weary lot, these childre!" + +"Why stand you not up to them better, Collet Pardue?" asked the +neighbour who was the listener to poor Collet's list of grievances. +"Can't you rouse yourself and see to them?" + +"Seems to me, Mistress Hall, I've got no rouse left in me, wi' all these +troubles a-coming so thick," said poor Collet, shaking her head. "If +you'd six lads and four maids, and your man in prison for nought, and +the bucket down the well, and the chicken strayed, and your poor old +mother sick a-bed, and them pies in the oven a-burning this minute--Oh +me!" + +Collet made a rush at the oven, having to push Charity Bradbridge out of +her way, who was staring open-mouthed at the brilliant parrot wrought in +floss silks on the exterior of Mrs Tabitha's large work-bag. + +"I've told you twenty times, Collet Pardue, you lack method," pursued +Mrs Hall, with a magisterial air. "Why set you not Esdras to hunt the +chicken, and Noah to fish up the bucket, and Beatrice to wait on your +mother, and Penuel to see to the pies, and leave yourself freer? I make +my childre useful, I can tell you. The more children, the more to wait +on you." + +"Well, Mistress Hall, I've always found it t'other way about--the more +childre, the more for you to wait on. Pen, she's ironing, and Beatie is +up wi' mother. But as to Esdras hunting up the chicks, why, he'd come +home wi' more holes than he's got, and that's five, as I know to my +cost; and set Noah to get up the bucket, he'd never do nought but send +his self a-flying after it down the well, and then I should have to fish +him up. 'Tis mighty good talking, when you've only three, and them all +maids; maids can be ruled by times; but them lads, they're that +cantankerous as-- There now, I might ha' known Noah was after some +mischief; he's never quiet but he is! Do 'ee look, how he's tangled my +blue yarn 'at I'd wound only last night--twisted it round every chair +and table in the place, and-- You wicked, sinful boy, to go and tangle +the poor cat along with 'em! I'll be after you, see if I'm not! You'll +catch some'at!" + +"Got to catch me first!" said Noah, with a grin, darting out of the door +as his over-worried mother made a grab at him. + +Poor Collet sat down and succumbed under her sufferings, throwing her +apron over her face for a good cry. Beatrice, who came down the ladder +which led to the upper chambers, took in the scene at a glance. She was +a bright little girl of ten years old. Setting down the tray in her +hand, she first speedily delivered the captive pussy, and then proceeded +deftly to disentangle the wool, rolling it up again in a ball. + +"Prithee, weep not, Mother, dear heart!" she said cheerily. "Granny +sleeps, and needs no tending at this present. I've set pussy free, I +shall soon have the yarn right again. You're over-wrought, poor +Mother!" + +Her child's sympathetic words seemed to have the effect of making Collet +cry the harder; but Tabitha's voice responded for her. + +"Well said, Beatrice, and well done! I love to see a maid whose fingers +are not all thumbs. But, dear me, Collet, what a shiftless woman are +you! Can't you pack those lads out o' door, and have a quiet house for +your work? I should, for sure!" + +"You'd find you'd got your work cut out, Mistress Hall, I can tell you. +`Pack 'em out o' door' means just send 'em to prey on your neighbours, +and have half-a-dozen angry folks at you afore night, and a sight o' +damage for to pay." + +"Set them to weed your garden, can't you? and tie up that trailing +honeysuckle o'er the porch, that's a shame to be seen. Make 'em +useful--that's what I say." + +"And 'tis what I'd be main thankful to do if I could--that I'll warrant +you, Mistress Hall; but without I stood o'er 'em every minute of the +time, the flowers 'd get plucked up and the weeds left, every one on +'em. That'd be useful, wouldn't it?" + +"You've brought them up ill, Collet, or they'd be better lads than that. +I'd have had 'em as quat as mice, the whole six, afore I'd been their +mother a week." + +"I cast no doubt, Mistress Hall," said Collet, driven to retort as she +rarely did, "if you'd had the world to make, it'd ha' been mortal grand, +and all turned out spic-span: look you, the old saw saith, `Bachelors' +wives be always well-learned,' and your lads be angels, that's sure, +seein' you haven't ne'er a one on 'em; but mine isn't so easy to manage +as yourn, looking as I've six to see to." + +"You've lost your temper, Collet Pardue," said Mrs Tabitha, with calm +complacency; "and that's a thing a woman shouldn't do who calls herself +a Christian." + +Before Collet could reply, a third person stood in the doorway. She +looked up, and saw her landlord, Mr Benden. + +As it happened, that gentleman was not aware of the presence of his +sister-in-law, who was concealed from him by the open door behind which +she was sitting, as well as by a sheet which was hanging up to air in +the warm atmosphere of the kitchen. He had not, therefore, the least +idea that Tabitha heard his words addressed to Collet. + +"So your husband has been sent to prison, Mistress, for an heretic and a +contemner of the blessed Sacrament?" + +"My husband contemns not the blessed Sacrament that our Lord Jesus +Christ instituted," answered Collet, turning to face her new assailant; +"but he is one of them that will not be made to commit idolatry unto a +piece of bread." + +"Well said, indeed!" sneered Mr Benden. "This must needs be good world +when cloth-workers' wives turn doctors of religion! How look you to +make my rent, Mistress, with nought coming in, I pray you?" + +"Your rent's not due, Master, for five weeks to come." + +"And when they be come, I do you to wit, I will have it--or else forth +you go. Do you hear, Mistress Glib-tongue?" + +"Dear heart, Master Benden!" cried Collet, in consternation. "Sure you +can never have the heart to turn us adrift--us as has always paid you +every farthing up to the hour it was due!" + +"Ay, and I'll have this, every farthing up to the hour 'tis due! I'll +have no canting hypocrites in my houses, nor no such as be notorious +traitors to God and the Queen's Majesty! I'll--" + +"O Master, we're no such, nor never was--" began the sobbing Collet. + +But both speeches were cut across by a third voice, which made the +landlord turn a shade paler and stop his diatribe suddenly; for it was +the voice of the only mortal creature whom Edward Benden feared. + +"Then you'd best turn yourself out, Edward Benden, and that pretty +sharp, before I come and make you!" said the unexpected voice of the +invisible Tabitha. "I haven't forgot, if you have, what a loyal subject +you were in King Edward's days, nor how you essayed to make your court +to my Lord of Northumberland that was, by proclaiming my Lady Jane at +Cranbrook, and then, as soon as ever you saw how the game was going, you +turned coat and threw up your cap for Queen Mary. If all the canting +hypocrites be bundled forth of Staplehurst, you'll be amongst the first +half-dozen, I'll be bound! Get you gone, if you've any shame left, and +forbear to torture an honest woman that hath troubles enow." + +"He's gone, Mistress Hall," said little Beatrice. "I count he scarce +heard what you last spake." + +"O Mistress Hall, you are a good friend, and I'm for ever bounden to +you!" said poor Collet, when she was able to speak for tears. "And if +it please you, I'm main sorry I lost my temper, and if I said any word +to you as I shouldn't, I'll take 'em back every one, and may God bless +you!" + +"Well said, old friend!" answered Tabitha, in high good-humour. + +"And, O Mistress, do you think, an' it like you, that Master Benden will +turn us forth on Saint Austin's morrow?--that's when our rent's due." + +"What is your rent, neighbour?" + +"'Tis thirteen-and-fourpence, the house, Mistress--but then we've the +bit o' pasture land behind, for our horse and cow--that's eight +shillings more by the year. And I've only"--Collet went to a chest, and +lifted out an old black stocking--"I haven't but sixteen shillings laid +by towards it, and look you, there'll be no wages coming in save Toby's +and Esdras' and Aphabell's, and we've to live. With 'leven of us to eat +and be clad, we can't save many pence for rent, and I did hope Master +Benden 'd be pleased to wait a while. Of course he must have his own, +like any other; but if he would ha' waited--" + +"He'll wait," said Tabitha, and shut her mouth with a snap. "But lest +he should not, Collet, come by Seven Roads as you go to pay your rent, +and whatso you may be short for the full amount, I'll find you." + +"Eh dear, Mistress Hall, I could cut my tongue in leches [slices] that +it ever spake a word as didn't please you!" cried the grateful Collet, +though Tabitha had spoken a multitude of words which were by no means +pleasing to her. "And we'll all pray God bless you when we're on our +knees to-night, and all your folks belike. And I _will_ essay to keep +the lads better-way, though in very deed I don't know how," concluded +she, as Tabitha rose, well pleased, patted Charity on the head, told +Beatrice to be a good maid and help her mother, and in a mood divided +between gratification and grim plans for giving Mr Benden the due +reward of his deeds, set out on her walk home. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +COMPANY IN DISTRESS. + +"Now then, stir up, Mistress Benden! You are to be shifted to the +Castle." + +Alice Benden looked up as the keeper approached her with that news. The +words sounded rough, but the tone was not unkind. There was even a +slight tinge of pity in it. + +What that transfer meant, both the keeper and the prisoner knew. It was +the preparatory step to a sentence of death. + +All hope for this world died out of the heart of Alice Benden. No more +possibility of reconciliation and forgiveness for Edward!--no more +loving counsels to Christabel--no more comforting visits from Roger. +Instead of them, one awful hour of scarcely imaginable anguish, and +then, from His seat on the right hand of God, Christ would rise to +receive His faithful witness--the Tree of Life would shade her, and the +Water of Life would refresh her, and no more would the sun light upon +her, nor any heat: she should be comforted for evermore. The better +hope was to be made way for by the extinction of the lower. She lifted +up her heart unto the Lord, and said silently within herself the ancient +Christian formula of the early Church-- + +"Amen, Lord Christ!--so let it be." + +In a chair, for she was too crippled to walk, Alice was carried by two +of the gaoler's men outside the Cathedral precincts. She had not been +in the open air for a month. They carried her out eastwards, across +Burgate Street (which dates from the days of King Ethelred), down by the +city wall, past Saint George's Gate and the Grey Friars, up Sheepshank's +Lane, and so to the old Norman Castle, the keep of which is the third +largest of Norman keeps in England, and is now, to the glory of all the +Huns and Vandals, converted into a gasometer! In the barbican sat +several prisoners in chains, begging their bread. But Alice was borne +past this, and up the north-east staircase, from the walls of which +looked out at her verses of the Psalms in Hebrew--silent, yet eloquent +witnesses of the dispersion and suffering of Judah--and into a small +chamber, where she was laid down on a rude bed, merely a frame with +sacking and a couple of blankets upon it. + +"Nights be cold yet," said the more humane of her two bearers. "The +poor soul 'll suffer here, I'm feared." + +"She'll be warm enough anon," said the other and more brutal of the +pair. "I reckon the faggots be chopped by now that shall warm her." + +Alice knew what he meant. He passed out of the door without another +word, but the first man lingered to say in a friendly tone--"Good even +to you, Mistress!" It was his little cup of cold water to Christ's +servant. + +"Good even, friend," replied Alice; "and may our Saviour Christ one day +say to thee, `Inasmuch'!" + +Yes, she would be warm enough by-and-by. There should be no more pain +nor toil, no more tears nor terrors, whither she was going. The King's +"Well done, good and faithful servant!" would mark the entrance on a new +life from which the former things had passed away. + +She lay there alone till the evening, when the gaoler's man brought her +supper. It consisted of a flat cake of bread, a bundle of small onions, +and a pint of weak ale. As he set it down, he said--"There'll be +company for you to-morrow." + +"I thank you for showing it to me," said Alice courteously; "pray you, +who is it?" + +"'Tis a woman from somewhere down your way," he answered, as he went +out; "but her name I know not." + +Alice's hopes sprang up. She felt cheered by the prospect of the +company of any human creature, after her long lonely imprisonment; and +it would be a comfort to have somebody who would help her to turn on her +bed, which, unaided, it gave her acute pain to do. Beside, there was +great reason to expect that her new companion would be a fellow-witness +for the truth. Alice earnestly hoped that they would not--whether out +of intended torture or mere carelessness--place a criminal with her. +Deep down in her heart, almost unacknowledged to herself, lay a further +hope. If it should be Rachel Potkin! + +Of the apprehension of the batch of prisoners from Staplehurst Alice had +heard nothing. She had therefore no reason to imagine that the woman +"from somewhere down her way" was likely to be a personal friend. The +south-western quarter of Kent was rather too large an area to rouse +expectations of that kind. + +It was growing dusk on the following evening before the "company" +arrived. Alice had sung her evening Psalms--a cheering custom which she +had kept up through all the changes and sufferings of her imprisonment-- +and was beginning to feel rather drowsy when the sound of footsteps +roused her, stopping at her door. + +"Now, Mistress! here you be!" said the not unpleasant voice of the +Castle gaoler. + +"Eh, deary me!" answered another voice, which struck Alice's ear as not +altogether strange. + +"Good even, friend!" she hastened to say. + +"Nay, you'd best say `ill even,' I'm sure," returned the newcomer. +"I've ne'er had a good even these many weeks past." + +Alice felt certain now that she recognised the voice of an old +acquaintance, whom she little expected to behold in those circumstances. + +"Why, Sens Bradbridge, is that you?" + +"Nay, sure, 'tis never Mistress Benden? Well, I'm as glad to see you +again as I can be of aught wi' all these troubles on me. Is't me? +Well, I don't justly know whether it be or no; I keep reckoning I shall +wake up one o' these days, and find me in the blue bed in my own little +chamber at home. Eh deary, Mistress Benden, but this is an ill +look-out! So many of us took off all of a blow belike--" + +"Have there been more arrests, then, at Staplehurst? Be my brethren +taken?" + +"Not as I knows of: but a lot of us was catched up all to oncet--Nichol +White, ironmonger, and mine hostess of the White Hart, and Emmet Wilson, +and Collet Pardue's man, and Fishwick, the flesher, and me. Eh, but you +may give thanks you've left no childre behind you! There's my two poor +little maids, that I don't so much as know what's come of 'em, or if +they've got a bite to eat these hard times! Lack-a-daisy-me! but why +they wanted to take a poor widow from her bits of childre, it do beat +me, it do!" + +"I am sorry for Collet Pardue," said Alice gravely. "But for your +maids, Sens, I am sure you may take your heart to you. The neighbours +should be safe to see they lack not, be sure." + +"I haven't got no heart to take, Mistress Benden--never a whit, believe +me. Look you, Mistress Final she had 'em when poor Benedick departed: +and now she's took herself. Eh, deary me! but I cannot stay me from +weeping when I think on my poor Benedick. He was that staunch, he'd +sure ha' been took if he'd ha' lived! It makes my heart fair sore to +think on't!" + +"Nay, Sens, that is rather a cause for thanksgiving." + +"You always was one for thanksgiving, Mistress Benden." + +"Surely; I were an ingrate else." + +"Well, I may be a nigrate too, though I wis not what it be without 'tis +a blackamoor, and I'm not that any way, as I knows: but look you, good +Mistress, that's what I alway wasn't. 'Tis all well and good for them +as can to sing psalms in dens o' lions; but I'm alway looking for to be +ate up. I can't do it, and that's flat." + +"The Lord can shut the lions' mouths, Sens." + +"Very good, Mistress; but how am I to know as they be shut?" + +"`They that trust in the Lord shall not want any good thing.'" A sudden +moan escaped Alice's lips just after she had said this, the result of an +attempt to move slightly. Sens Bradbridge was on her knees beside her +in a moment. + +"Why, my dear heart, how's this, now? Be you sick, or what's took you?" + +"I was kept nine weeks, Sens, on foul straw, with never a shift of +clothes, and no meat save bread and water, the which has brought me to +this pass, being so lame of rheumatic pains that I cannot scarce move +without moaning." + +"Did ever man hear the like! Didn't you trust in the Lord, then, +Mistress, an't like you?--or be soft beds and well-dressed meat and +clean raiment not good things?" + +Alice Benden's bright little laugh struck poor desponding Sens as a very +strange thing. + +"Maybe a little of both, old friend. Surely there were four sore weeks +when I was shut up in Satan's prison, no less than in man's, and I +trusted not the Lord as I should have done--" + +"Well, forsooth, and no marvel!" + +"And as to beds and meat and raiment--well, I suppose they were not good +things for me at that time, else should my Father have provided them for +me." + +Poor Sens shook her head slowly and sorrowfully. + +"Nay, now, Mistress Benden, I can't climb up there, nohow.--'Tis a brave +place where you be, I cast no doubt, but I shall never get up yonder." + +"But you have stood to the truth, Sens?--else should you not have been +here." + +"Well, Mistress! I can't believe black's white, can I, to get forth o' +trouble?--nor I can't deny the Lord, by reason 'tisn't right comfortable +to confess Him? But as for comfort--and my poor little maids all alone, +wi' never a penny--and my poor dear heart of a man as they'd ha' took, +sure as eggs is eggs, if so be he'd been there--why, 'tis enough to +crush the heart out of any woman. But I can't speak lies by reason I'm +out o' heart." + +"Well said, true heart! The Lord is God of the valleys, no less than of +the hills; and if thou be sooner overwhelmed by the waters than other, +He shall either carry thee through the stream, or make the waters lower +when thou comest to cross." + +"I would I'd as brave a spirit as yourn, Mistress Benden." + +"Thou hast as good a God, Sens, and as strong a Saviour. And mind thou, +'tis the weak and the lambs that He carries; the strong sheep may walk +alongside. `He knoweth our frame,' both of body and soul. Rest thou +sure, that if thine heart be true to Him, so long as He sees thou hast +need to be borne of Him, He shall not put thee down to stumble by +thyself." + +"Well!" said Sens, with a long sigh, "I reckon, if I'm left to myself, I +sha'n't do nought but stumble. I always was a poor creature; Benedick +had to do no end o' matters for me: and I'm poorer than ever now he's +gone, so I think the Lord'll scarce forget me; but seems somehow as I +can't take no comfort in it." + +"`Blessed are the poor in spirit!'" said Alice softly. "The `God of +all comfort,' Sens, is better than all His comforts." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +BEHIND THE ARRAS. + +"You had best make up your mind, Grena, whilst you yet may. This may be +the last chance to get away hence that you shall have afore--" Mr +Roberts hesitated; but his meaning was clear enough. "It doth seem me, +now we have this opportunity through Master Laxton's journey, it were +well-nigh a sin to miss it. He is a sober, worthy man, and kindly +belike; he should take good care of you; and going so nigh to +Shardeford, he could drop you well-nigh at your mother's gates. Now I +pray you, Grena, be ruled by me, and settle it that you shall go without +delay. He cannot wait beyond to-morrow to set forth." + +"I grant it all, Tom, and I thank you truly for your brotherly care. +But it alway comes to the same end, whensoever I meditate thereon: I +cannot leave you and Gertrude." + +"But wherefore no, Grena? Surely we should miss your good company, +right truly: but to know that you were safe were compensation enough for +that. True should be old enough to keep the house--there be many +housewives younger--or if no; surely the old servants can go on as they +are used, without your oversight. Margery and Osmund, at least--" + +"They lack not my oversight, and assuredly not Gertrude's. But you +would miss me, Tom: and I could not be happy touching True." + +"Wherefore? Why, Grena, you said yourself they should lay no hand on +her." + +"Nor will they. But Gertrude is one that lacks a woman about her that +loveth her, and will yet be firm with her. I cannot leave the child-- +Paulina's child--to go maybe to an ill end, for the lack of my care and +love. She sees not the snares about her heedless feet, and would most +likely be tangled in them ere you saw them. Maids lack mothers more +than even fathers; and True hath none save me." + +"Granted. But for all that, Grena, I would not sacrifice you." + +"Tom, if the Lord would have me here, be sure He shall not shut me up in +Canterbury Castle. And if He lacks me there, I am ready to go. He will +see to you and True in that case." + +"But if He lack you at Shardeford, Grena? How if this journey of Mr +Laxton be His provision for you, so being?" + +There was silence for a moment. + +"Ay," said Grena Holland then, "if you and Gertrude go with me. If not, +I shall know it is not the Lord's bidding." + +"I! I never dreamed thereof." + +"Suppose, then, you dream thereof now." + +"Were it not running away from duty?" + +"Methinks not. `When they persecute you in one city, flee ye into +another,' said our Lord. I see no duty that you have to leave. Were +you a Justice of Peace, like your brother, it might be so: but what such +have you? But one thing do I see--and you must count the cost, Tom. It +may be your estate shall be sequestered, and all your goods taken to the +Queen's use. 'Tis perchance a choice betwixt life and liberty on the +one hand, and land and movables on the other." + +Mr Roberts walked up and down the room, lost in deep thought. It was a +hard choice to make: yet "all that a man hath will he give for his +life." + +"Oh for the days of King Edward the First," he sighed. "Verily, we +valued not our blessings whilst we had them." + +Grena's look was sympathising; but she left him to think out the +question. + +"If I lose Primrose Croft," he said meditatively, "the maids will have +nought." + +"They will have Shardeford when my mother dieth." + +"You," he corrected. "You were the elder sister, Grena." + +"What is mine is theirs and yours," she said quietly. + +"You may wed, Grena." + +She gave a little amused laugh. "Methinks, Tom, you may leave that +danger out of the question. Shardeford Hall will some day be Gertrude's +and Pandora's." + +"We had alway thought of it as Pandora's, if it came to the maids, and +that Gertrude should have Primrose Croft. But if that go--and 'tis not +unlike; in especial if we leave Kent-- Grena, I know not what to do for +the best." + +"Were it not best to ask the Lord, Tom?" + +"But how shall I read the answer? Here be no Urim and Thummim to work +by." + +"I cannot say how. But of one thing am I sure; the Lord never +disappointeth nor confoundeth the soul that trusts in Him." + +"Well, Grena, let us pray over it, and sleep on it. Perchance we may +see what to do for the best by morning light. But one thing I pray you, +be ready to go, that there may be no time lost if we decide ay and not +nay." + +"That will I see to for us all." + +Mr Roberts and Grena left the dining-room, where this conversation had +been held, shutting the door behind them. She could be heard going +upstairs, he into the garden by the back way. For a few seconds there +was dead silence in the room; then the arras parted, and a concealed +listener came out. In those days rooms were neither papered nor +painted. They were either wainscoted high up the wall with panelled +wood, or simply white-washed, and large pieces of tapestry hung round on +heavy iron hooks. This tapestry was commonly known as arras, from the +name of the French town where it was chiefly woven; and behind it, since +it stood forward from the wall, was a most convenient place for a spy. +The concealed listener came into the middle of the room. Her face +worked with conflicting emotions. She stood for a minute, as it were, +fighting out a battle with herself. At length she clenched her hand as +if the decision were reached, and said aloud and passionately, "I will +not!" That conclusion arrived at, she went hastily but softly out of +the room, and closed the door noiselessly. + +Mistress Grena was very busy in her own room, secretly packing up such +articles as she had resolved to take in the event of her journey being +made. She had told Margery, the old housekeeper, that she was going to +be engaged, and did not wish to be disturbed. If any visitors came +Mistress Gertrude could entertain them; and she desired Margery to +transmit her commands to that effect to the young lady. That Gertrude +herself would interrupt her she had very little fear. They had few +tastes and ideas in common. Gertrude would spend the afternoon in the +parlour with her embroidery or her virginals--the piano of that time-- +and was not likely to come near her. This being the case, Mistress +Grena was startled and disturbed to hear a rap at her door. Trusting +that it was Mr Roberts who wanted her, and who was the only likely +person, she went to open it. + +"May I come in, Aunt Grena?" said Gertrude. + +For a moment Grena hesitated. Then she stepped back and let her niece +enter. Her quick, quiet eyes discerned that something was the matter. +This was a new Gertrude at her door, a grave, troubled Gertrude, brought +there by something of more importance than usual. + +"Well, niece, what is it?" + +"Aunt Grena, give me leave for once to speak freely." + +"So do, my dear maid." + +"You and my father are talking of escape to Shardeford, but you scarce +know whether to go or no. Let me tell you, and trust me, for my +knowledge is costly matter. Let us go." + +Grena stood in amazed consternation. She had said and believed that God +would show them what to do, but the very last person in her world +through whose lips she expected Him to speak was Gertrude Roberts. + +"How--what--who told you? an angel?" she gasped incoherently. + +A laugh, short and unmirthful, was the answer. + +"Truly, no," said Gertrude. "It was a fallen angel if it were." + +"What mean you, niece? This is passing strange!" said Grena, in a +troubled tone. + +"Aunt, I have a confession to make. Despise me if you will; you cannot +so do more than I despise myself. 'Tis ill work despising one's self; +but I must, and as penalty for mine evil deeds I am forcing myself to +own them to you. You refuse to leave me, for my mother's sake, to go to +an ill end; neither will I so leave you." + +"When heard you me so to speak, Gertrude?" + +"Not an hour since, Aunt Grena." + +"You were not present!" + +"I was, little as you guessed it. I was behind the arras." + +"Wicked, mean, dishonourable girl!" cried Mistress Grena, in a mixture +of horror, confusion, and alarm. + +"I own it, Aunt Grena," said Gertrude, with a quiet humility which was +not natural to her, and which touched Grena against her will. "But hear +me out, I pray you, for 'tis of moment to us all that you should so do." + +A silent inclination of her aunt's head granted her permission to +proceed. + +"The last time that I went to shrift, Father Bastian bade me tell him if +I knew of a surety that you or my father had any thought to leave Kent. +That could not I say, of course, and so much I told him. Then he bade +me be diligent and discover the same. `But after what fashion?' said I; +for I do ensure you that his meaning came not into mine head afore he +spake it in plain language. When at last I did conceive that he would +have me to spy upon you, at the first I was struck with horror. You had +so learned me, Aunt Grena, that the bare thought of such a thing was +hateful unto me. This methinks he perceived, and he set him to reason +with me, that the command of holy Church sanctified the act done for her +service, which otherwise had been perchance unmeet to be done. Still I +yielded not, and then he told me flat, that without I did this thing he +would not grant me absolution of my sins. Then, but not till then, I +gave way. I hid me behind the arras this morning, looking that you +should come to hold discourse in that chamber where, saving for meat, +you knew I was not wont to be. I hated the work no whit less than at +the first; but the fear of holy Church bound me. I heard you say, Aunt +Grena"--Gertrude's voice softened as Grena had rarely heard it--"that +you would not leave Father and me--that you could not be happy touching +me--that I had no mother save you, and you would not cast me aside to go +to an ill end. I saw that Father reckoned it should be to your own hurt +if you tarried. And it struck me to the heart that you should be +thinking to serve me the while I was planning how to betray you. Yet if +Father Bastian refused to shrive me, what should come of me? And all at +once, as I stood there hearkening, a word from the Psalter bolted in +upon me, a verse that I mind Mother caused me to learn long time agone: +`I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and so Thou +forgavest the wickedness of my sin.' Then said I to myself, What need I +trouble if the priest will not shrive me, when I can go straight unto +the Lord and confess to Him? Then came another verse, as if to answer +me, that I wist Father Bastian should have brought forth in like case, +`Whatsoever sins ye retain, they are retained,' and `Whatsoever ye shall +bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.' I could not, I own, all at +once see my way through these. They did look to say, `Unto whom the +priest, that is the Church, denieth shrift, the same hath no forgiveness +of God.' For a minute I was staggered, till a blind man came to help me +up. Aunt Grena, you mind that blind man in the ninth chapter of Saint +John's Gospel? He was cast forth of the Church, as the Church was in +that day; and it was when our Lord heard that they had cast him forth, +that He sought him and bade him believe only on Him, the Son of God. +You marvel, Aunt, I may well see, that such meditations as these should +come to your foolish maid Gertrude. But I was at a point, and an hard +point belike. I had to consider my ways, whether I would or no, when I +came to this trackless moor, and wist not which way to go, with a +precipice nigh at hand. So now, Aunt Grena, I come to speak truth unto +you, and to confess that I have been a wicked maid and a fool; and if +you count me no more worth the serving or the saving I have demerited +that you should thus account me. Only if so be, I beseech you, save +yourself!" + +Gertrude's eyes were wet as she turned away. + +Grena followed her and drew the girl into her arms. + +"My child," she said, "I never held thee so well worth love and care as +now. So be it; we will go to Shardeford." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +WHEREOF THE HERO IS JACK. + +"Ay, we must go, then," said Mr Roberts, with a long-drawn sigh. "This +discovery leaves us no choice. For howso God and we may pardon the +child, Father Bastian will not so. We must go ere he find it out, and +leave Primrose Croft to his fate." + +"Father!" exclaimed Gertrude suddenly, "I beseech you, hear me. Uncle +Anthony conforms, and he is kindly-hearted as man could wish. If he +would come hither, and have a care of Primrose Croft, as though he held +it by gift or under lease from you, they should never think to disturb +him." + +"The maid's wit hath hit the nail on the head!" returned her father, in +high satisfaction. "But how shall I give him to know, without letting +forth our secret?--and once get it on paper, and it might as well be +given to the town crier. `Walls have ears,' saith the old saw, but +paper hath a tongue. And I cannot tell him by word of mouth, sith he is +now at Sandwich, and turneth not home afore Thursday. Elsewise that +were good counsel." + +"Ask True," suggested Mistress Grena with a smile. "The young wit is +the readiest amongst us, as methinks." + +"Under your correction, Father, could you not write a letter, and +entrust it to Margery, to be sent to Uncle as Thursday even--giving it +into her hand the last minute afore we depart? Is she not trustworthy, +think you?" + +"She is trustworthy enough, if she be let be. But I misdoubt if her +wits should carry her safe through a discourse with Father Bastian, if +he were bent on winning the truth from her. I could trust Osmund better +for that; but I looked to take him withal." + +"Give me leave then, Father, to walk down to Uncle's, as if I wist not +of his absence, and slip the letter into one of his pockets. He alway +leaveth one of his gowns a-hanging in the hall." + +"And if his Martha were seized with a cleaning fever whilst he is +thence, and turned out the pocket, where should we then be? Nay, True, +that shall not serve. I can think of no means but that you twain set +forth alone--to wit, without me--under guidance of Osmund, and that I +follow, going round by Sandwich, having there seen and advertised my +brother." + +"Were there no danger that way, Tom?" + +"There is danger every way," replied Mr Roberts, with a groan. "But +maybe there is as little that way as any: and I would fain save +Gertrude's inheritance if it may be." + +"At the cost of your liberty, Father? Nay, not so, I entreat you!" +cried Gertrude, with a flash of that noble nature which seemed to have +been awakened in her. "Let mine inheritance go as it will." + +"As God wills," gently put in Mistress Grena. + +"As God wills," repeated Gertrude: "and keep you safe." + +Mistress Grena laid her hand on her brother's shoulder. + +"Tom," she said, "let us trust the Lord in this matter. Draw you up, if +you will, a lease of Primrose Croft to the Justice, and leave it in the +house in some safe place. God can guide his hand to it, if He will. +Otherwise, let us leave it be." + +That was the course resolved on in the end. It was also decided that +they should not attempt to repeat the night escape which had already +taken place. They were to set forth openly in daylight, but separately, +and on three several pretexts. Mistress Grena was to go on a professed +visit to Christabel, old Osmund escorting her; but instead of returning +home afterwards, she was to go forward to Seven Roods, and there await +the arrival of Mr Roberts. He was to proceed to his cloth-works at +Cranbrook, as he usually did on a Tuesday; and when the time came to +return home to supper, was to go to Seven Roods and rejoin Grena. To +Gertrude, at her own request, was allotted the hardest and most perilous +post of all--to remain quietly at home after her father and aunt had +departed, engaged in her usual occupations, until afternoon, when she +was to go out as if for a walk, accompanied by the great house-dog, +Jack, and meet her party a little beyond Seven Roods. Thence they were +to journey to Maidstone and Rochester, whence they could take ship to +the North. Jack, in his life-long character of an attached and +incorruptible protector, was to go with them. He would be quite as +ready, in the interests of his friends, to bite a priest as a layman, +and would show his teeth at the Sheriff with as little compunction as at +a street-sweeper. Moreover, like all of his race, Jack was a forgiving +person. Many a time had Gertrude teased and tormented him for her own +amusement, but nobody expected Jack to remember it against her, when he +was summoned to protect her from possible enemies. But perhaps the +greatest advantage in Jack's guardianship of Gertrude was the fact that +there had always been from time immemorial to men--and dogs--an +unconquerable aversion, not always tacit, especially on Jack's part, +between him and the Rev. Mr Bastian. If there was an individual in +the world who might surely be relied on to object to the reverend +gentleman's appearance, that individual was Jack: and if any person +existed in whose presence Mr Bastian was likely to hesitate about +attaching himself to Gertrude's company, that person was Jack also. +Jack never had been able to see why the priest should visit his master, +and had on several occasions expressed his opinion on that point with +much decision and lucidity. If, therefore, Mr Bastian would keep away +from the house until Gertrude started on her eventful walk, he was not +very likely to trouble her afterwards. + +The priest had fully intended to call at Primrose Croft that very +afternoon, to see Mr Roberts, or if he were absent, Mistress Grena; but +he preferred the gentleman, as being usually more manageable than the +lady. He meant to terrify the person whom he might see, by vague hints +of something which he had heard--and which was not to be mentioned--that +it might be mournfully necessary for him to report to the authorities if +more humility and subordination to his orders were not shown. But he +was detained, first by a brother priest who wished to consult him in a +difficulty, then by the Cardinal's sumner, who brought documents from +his Eminence, and lastly by a beggar requesting alms. Having at length +freed himself from these interruptions, he set out for Primrose Croft. +He had passed through the gates, and was approaching the door, when he +saw an unwelcome sight which brought him to a sudden stop. That sight +was a long feathery tail, waving above a clump of ferns to the left. +Was it possible that the monster was loose? The gate was between Mr +Bastian and that tail, in an infinitesimal space of time. Ignorant of +the presence of the enemy, the wind being in the wrong direction, Jack +finished at leisure his inspection of the ferns, and bounded after +Gertrude. + +"How exceedingly annoying!" said Mr Bastian to himself. "If that black +demon had been out of the way, and safely chained up, as he ought to +have been, I could have learned from the girl whether she had overheard +anything. I am sure it was her hood that I saw disappearing behind the +laurels. How very provoking! It must be Satan that sent the creature +this way at this moment. However, she will come to shrift, of course, +on Sunday, and then I shall get to know." + +So saying, Mr Bastian turned round and went home, Gertrude sauntered +leisurely through the garden, went out by the wicket-gate, which Jack +preferred to clear at a bound, and walked rather slowly up the road, +followed by her sable escort. She was afraid of seeming in haste until +she was well out of the immediate neighbourhood. The clouds were so far +threatening that she felt it safe to carry her cloak--a very necessary +travelling companion in days when there were no umbrellas. She had +stitched sundry gold coins and some jewellery into her underclothing, +but she could bring away nothing else. John Banks passed her on the +road, with a mutual recognition; two disreputable-looking tramps +surveyed her covetously, but ventured on no nearer approach when Jack +remarked, "If you do--!" The old priest of Cranbrook, riding past--a +quiet, kindly old man for whom Jack entertained no aversion--blessed her +in response to her reverence. Two nuns, with inscrutable white marble +faces, took no apparent notice of her. A woman with a basket on her arm +stopped her to ask the way to Frittenden. Passing them all, she turned +away from the road just before reaching Staplehurst, and took the field +pathway which led past Seven Roods. Here Jack showed much uneasiness, +evidently being aware that some friend of his had taken that way before +them, and he decidedly disapproved of Gertrude's turning aside without +going up to the house. The path now led through several fields, and +across a brook spanned by a little rustic bridge, to the stile where it +diverged into the high road from Cranbrook to Maidstone. + +As they reached the last field, they saw Tabitha Hall coming to meet +them. + +"Glad to see you, Mistress Gertrude! All goes well. The Master and +Mistress Grena's somewhat beyond, going at foot's pace, and looking out +for you. So you won away easy, did you? I reckoned you would." + +"Oh, ay, easy enough!" said Gertrude. + +But she never knew how near she had been to that which would have made +it almost if not wholly impossible. + +"But how shall I ride, I marvel?" she asked, half-laughing. "I can +scarce sit on my father's saddle behind him." + +"Oh, look you, we have a pillion old Mistress Hall was wont to ride on, +so Tom took and strapped it on at back of Master's saddle," said +Tabitha, with that elaborate carelessness that people assume when they +know they have done a kindness, but want to make it appear as small as +possible. + +"I am truly beholden to you, Mistress Hall; but I must not linger, so I +can only pray God be wi' you," said Gertrude, using the phrase which has +now become stereotyped into "good-bye." + +"But, Mistress Gertrude! won't you step up to the house, and take a +snack ere you go further? The fresh butter's but now churned, and eggs +new-laid, and--" + +"I thank you much, Mistress Hall, but I must not tarry now. May God of +His mercy keep you and all yours safe!" + +And Gertrude, calling Jack, who was deeply interested in a rabbit-hole, +hastened on to the Maidstone Road. + +"There's somewhat come over Mistress Gertrude," said Tabitha, as she +re-entered her own house. "Never saw her so meek-spoken in all my life. +She's not one to be cowed by peril, neither. Friswith, where on earth +hast set that big poker? Hast forgot that I keep it handy for Father +Bastian and the catchpoll, whichever of 'em lacks it first? Good lack, +but I cannot away with that going astray! Fetch it hither this minute. +Up in the chamber! Bless me, what could the maid be thinking on? +There, set it down in the chimney-corner to keep warm; it'll not take so +long to heat then. Well! I trust they'll win away all safe; but I'd as +lief not be in their shoon." + +A faint sound came from the outside. Jack had spied his friends, and +was expressing his supreme delight at having succeeded in once more +piecing together the scattered fragments of his treasure. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +PUZZLED. + +Old Margery Danby, the housekeeper at Primrose Croft, was more +thoroughly trustworthy than Mr Roberts had supposed, not only in will-- +for which he gave her full credit--but in capacity, which he had +doubted. Born in the first year of Henry the Seventh, Margery had heard +stirring tales in her childhood from parents who had lived through the +Wars of the Roses, and she too well remembered Kett's rebellion and the +enclosure riots in King Edward's days, not to know that "speech is +silvern, but silence is golden." The quiet, observant old woman knew +perfectly well that something was "in the wind." It was not her +master's wont to look back, and say, "Farewell, Margery!" before he +mounted his horse on a Tuesday morning for his weekly visit to the +cloth-works; and it was still less usual for Gertrude to remark, +"Good-morrow, good Margery!" before she went out for a walk with Jack. +Mistress Grena, too, had called her into her own room the night before, +and told her she had thought for some time of making her a little +present, as a recognition of her long care and fidelity, and had given +her two royals--the older name for half-sovereigns. Margery silently +"put two and two together," and the result was to convince her that +something was about to happen. Nor did she suffer from any serious +doubts as to what it was. She superintended the preparation of supper +on that eventful day with a settled conviction that nobody would be at +home to eat it; and when the hours passed away, and nobody returned, the +excitement of Cicely the chamber-maid, and Dick the scullion-boy, was +not in the least shared by her. Moreover, she had seen with some +amusement Mr Bastian's approach and subsequent retreat, and she +expected to see him again ere long. When the bell rang the next morning +about eight o'clock, Margery went to answer it herself, and found +herself confronting the gentleman she had anticipated. + +"Christ save all here!" said the priest, in reply to Margery's +reverential curtsey. "Is your master within, good woman?" + +"No, Father, an't like you." + +"No? He is not wont to go forth thus early. Mistress Grena?" + +"No, Sir, nor Mistress Gertrude neither." + +The priest lifted his eyebrows. "All hence! whither be they gone?" + +"An' it please you, Sir, I know not." + +"That is strange. Went they together?" + +"No, Sir, separate." + +"Said they nought touching their absence?" + +"Not to me, Father." + +"Have you no fantasy at all whither they went?" + +"I took it, Sir, that my master went to the works, as he is wont of a +Tuesday; and I thought Mistress Grena was a-visiting some friend. +Touching Mistress Gertrude I can say nought." + +"She went not forth alone, surely?" + +"She took Jack withal, Sir--none else." + +The conviction was slowly growing in Mr Bastian's mind that the wave of +that feathery tail had deprived him of the only means of communication +which he was ever likely to have with Gertrude Roberts. "The sly minx!" +he said to himself. Then aloud to Margery, "Do I take you rightly that +all they departed yesterday, and have not yet returned?" + +"That is sooth, Father." + +Margery stood holding the door, with a calm, stolid face, which looked +as if an earthquake would neither astonish nor excite her. Mr Bastian +took another arrow from his quiver, one which he generally found to do +considerable execution. + +"Woman," he said sternly, "you know more than you have told me!" + +"Father, with all reverence, I know no more than you." + +Her eyes met his with no appearance of insincerity. + +"Send Osmund to me," he said, walking into the house, and laying down +his hat and stick on the settle in the hall. + +"Sir, under your good pleasure, Osmund went with Mistress." + +"And turned not again?" + +"He hath not come back here, Sir." + +"Then they have taken flight!" cried the priest in a passion. "Margery +Danby, as you fear the judgment of the Church, and value her favour, I +bid you tell me whither they are gone." + +"Sir, even for holy Church's favour, I cannot say that which I know +not." + +"On your soul's salvation, do you not know it?" he said solemnly. + +"On my soul's salvation, Sir, I know it not." + +The priest strode up and down the hall more than once. Then he came and +faced Margery, who was now standing beside the wide fireplace in the +hall. + +"Have you any guess whither your master may be gone, or the +gentlewomen?" + +"I've guessed a many things since yester-even, Sir," answered Margery +quietly, "but which is right and which is wrong I can't tell." + +"When Mistress Collenwood and Mistress Pandora went hence secretly in +the night-time, knew you thereof, beforehand?" + +"Surely no, Father." + +"Had you any ado with their departing?" + +"The first thing I knew or guessed thereof, Father, was the next morrow, +when I came into the hall and saw them not." + +Mr Bastian felt baffled on every side. That his prey had eluded him +just in time to escape the trap he meant to lay for them, was manifest. +What his next step was to be, was not equally clear. + +"Well!" he said at last with a disappointed air, "if you know nought, +'tis plain you can tell nought. I must essay to find some that can." + +"I have told you all I know, Father," was the calm answer. But Margery +did not say that she had told all she thought, nor that if she had known +more she would have revealed it. + +Mr Bastian took up his hat and stick, pausing for a moment at the door +to ask, "Is that black beast come back?" + +"Jack is not returned, Sir," answered the housekeeper. + +It was with a mingled sense of relief and uneasiness on that point that +the priest took the road through the village. That Jack was out of the +way was a delicious relief. But suppose Jack should spring suddenly on +him out of some hedge, or on turning a corner? Out of the way might +turn out to be all the more surely in it. + +Undisturbed, however, by any vision of a black face and a feathery tail, +Mr Bastian reached Roger Hall's door. Nell opened it, and unwillingly +admitted that her master was at home, Mr Bastian being so early that +Roger had not yet left his house for the works. Roger received him in +his little parlour, to which Christie had not yet been carried. + +"Hall, are you aware of your master's flight?" + +Roger Hall opened his eyes in genuine amazement. + +"No, Sir! Is he gone, then?" + +"He never returned home after leaving the works yesterday." + +Roger's face expressed nothing but honest concern for his master's +welfare. "He left the works scarce past three of the clock," said he, +"and took the road toward Primrose Croft. God grant none ill hath +befallen him!" + +"Nought o' the sort," said the priest bluntly. "The gentlewomen be gone +belike, and Osmund with them. 'Tis a concerted plan, not a doubt +thereof: and smelleth of the fire [implies heretical opinions], or I +mistake greatly. Knew you nought thereof? Have a care how you make +answer!" + +"Father, you have right well amazed me but to hear it. Most surely I +knew nought, saving only that when I returned home yestre'en, my little +maid told me Mistress Grena had been so good as to visit her, and had +brought her a cake and a posy of flowers from the garden. But if Osmund +were with her or no, that did I not hear." + +"Was Mistress Grena wont to visit your daughter?" + +"By times, Father: not very often." + +As all his neighbours must be aware of Mistress Grena's visit, Roger +thought it the wisest plan to be perfectly frank on that point. + +"Ask at Christabel if she wist whether Osmund came withal." + +Roger made the inquiry, and returned with the information that +Christabel did not know. From her couch she could only see the horse's +ears, and had not noticed who was with it. + +"'Tis strange matter," said the priest severely, "that a gentleman of +means and station, with his sister, and daughter, and servant, could +disappear thus utterly, and none know thereof!" + +"It is, Father, in very deed," replied Roger sympathisingly. + +"I pray you, Hall, make full inquiry at the works, and give me to wit if +aught be known thereof. Remember, you are somewhat under a cloud from +your near kinship to Alice Benden, and diligence in this matter may do +you a good turn with holy Church." + +"Sir, I will make inquiry at the works," was the answer, which did not +convey Roger's intention to make no use of the inquiries that could +damage his master, nor his settled conviction that no information was to +be had. + +The only person at all likely to know more than himself was the cashier +at the works, since he lived between Cranbrook and Primrose Croft, and +Roger carefully timed his inquiries so as not to include him. The +result was what he expected--no one could tell him anything. He quickly +and diligently communicated this interesting fact to the priest's +servant, his master not being at home; and Mr Bastian was more puzzled +than ever. The nine days' wonder gradually died down. On the Thursday +evening Mr Justice Roberts came home, and was met by the news of his +brother's disappearance, with his family. He was so astonished that he +sat open-mouthed, knife and spoon in hand, while his favourite dish of +broiled fowl grew cold, until he had heard all that Martha had to tell +him. Supper was no sooner over, than off he set to Primrose Croft. + +"Well, Madge, old woman!" said he to the old housekeeper, who had once +been his nurse, "this is strange matter, surely! Is all true that +Martha tells me? Be all they gone, and none wist how nor whither?" + +"Come in, and sit you down by the fire, Master Anthony," said Margery, +in whose heart was a very soft spot for her sometime nursling, "and I'll +tell you all I know. Here's the master's keys, they'll maybe be safer +in your hands than mine; he didn't leave 'em wi' me, but I went round +the house and picked 'em all up, and locked everything away from them +prying maids and that young jackanapes of a Dickon. Some he must ha' +took with him; but he's left the key of the old press, look you, and +that label hanging from it." + +The Justice looked at the label, and saw his own name written in his +brother's writing. + +"Ha! maybe he would have me open the press and search for somewhat. Let +us go to his closet, Madge. Thou canst tell me the rest there, while I +see what this meaneth." + +"There's scarce any rest to tell, Mr Anthony; only they are all gone-- +Master, and Mistress Grena, and Mistress Gertrude, and Osmund, and bay +Philbert, and the black mare, and old Jack." + +"What, Jack gone belike! Dear heart alive! Why, Madge, that hath +little look of coming again." + +"It hasn't, Mr Anthony; and one of Mistress Gertrude's boxes, that she +keeps her gems in, lieth open and empty in her chamber." + +The Justice whistled softly as he fitted the key in the lock. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +HOW HE HEARD IT. + +"Why, what's this?" + +Mr Justice Roberts had opened the old press, tried all the drawers, and +come at last to the secret drawer, of whose existence only he and his +brother knew. No sooner had he applied his hand to a secret spring, +than out darted the drawer, showing that it held a long legal-looking +document, and a letter addressed to himself. He opened and read the +latter, Margery standing quietly at a little distance. Slowly and +thoughtfully, when he had finished the letter, he folded it up, pocketed +it, and turned to Margery. + +"Ay, Madge," he said, "they are gone." + +"And not coming back, Master Anthony?" + +"Not while--well, not at this present. Madge, my brother would have me +come hither, and take up mine abode here--for a while, look you; and +methinks I shall so do." + +"Well, Mr Anthony, and I shall be full fain. I've been right trembling +in my shoes this three days, lest them noisome pests should think to +come and take possession--turn out all. Master's papers, and count +Mistress Grena's partlets, and reckon up every crack in the kitchen +trenchers; but there's nought 'll keep 'em out, even to you coming, +'cause they'll be a bit 'feared of you, as being a Justice of Peace. +Ay, I am glad o' that." + +"`Noisome pests'! Why, whom signify you, Madge?" + +"Oh, catchpolls, and thirdboroughs [minor constables], and sheriffs, and +hangmen, and 'turneys, and the like o' they," replied Margery, not very +lucidly: "they be pests, the lot of 'em, as ever I see. They're as ill +as plumbers and painters and rats and fleas--once get 'em in, and +there's no turning of 'em out. I cannot abide 'em." + +Mr Justice Roberts laughed. "Come, Madge, you may as well add +`Justices of Peace'; you've got pretty nigh all else. Prithee look to +thy tongue, old woman, or thou shalt find thee indicted for an ill +subject unto the Queen. Why, they be her Gracious' servants [`Grace's' +was then frequently spelt `Gracious''], and do her bidding. Thou +wouldst not rebel against the Queen's Majesty?" + +"I am as true a woman to the Queen's Grace as liveth, Mr Anthony; but +them folks isn't the Queen nor the King neither. And they be as +cantankerous toads, every one of 'em, as ever jumped in a brook. Do you +haste and come, there's a good lad, as you alway was, when you used to +toddle about the house, holding by my gown. It'll seem like old times +to have you back." + +"Well, I can come at once," said the Justice, with a smile at Margery's +reminiscences; "for my brother hath left me a power of attorney to deal +with his lands and goods; and as he is my landlord, I have but to agree +with myself over the leaving of mine house. But I shall bring Martha: I +trust you'll not quarrel." + +"No fear o' that, Mr Anthony. Martha, she's one of the quiet uns, as +neither makes nor meddles; and I've had strife enough to last me the +rest o' my life. 'Tis them flaunting young hussies as reckons +quarrelling a comfort o' their lives. And now Osmund's hence, Martha +can wait on you as she's used, and she and me 'll shake down like a +couple o' pigeons." + +"Good. Then I'll be hither in a day or twain: and if any of your pests +come meantime, you shake my stick at them, Madge, and tell them I'm at +hand." + +"No fear! I'll see to that!" was the hearty answer. + +So the Justice took up his abode at Primrose Croft, and the cantankerous +toads did not venture near. Mr Roberts had requested his brother to +hold the estate for him, or in the event of his death for Gertrude, +until they should return; which, of course, meant, and was quite +understood to mean, until the death of the Queen should make way for the +accession of the Protestant Princess Elizabeth. Plain speech was often +dangerous in those days, and people generally had recourse to some vague +form of words which might mean either one thing or another. The Justice +went down to the cloth-works on the following Tuesday, and called Roger +Hall into the private room. + +"Read those, Hall, an' it like you," he said, laying before him Mr +Roberts' letter and the power of attorney. + +Roger only glanced at them, and then looked up with a smile. + +"I looked for something of this kind, Mr Justice," he said. "When +Master left the works on Tuesday evening, he said to me, `If my brother +come, Hall, you will see his orders looked to--' and I reckoned it meant +somewhat more than an order for grey cloth. We will hold ourselves at +your commands, Mr Justice, and I trust you shall find us to your +satisfaction." + +"No doubt, Hall, no doubt!" replied the easy-tempered Justice. "Shut +that further door an instant. Have you heard aught of late touching +your sister?" + +"Nought different, Mr Justice. She is yet in the Castle, but I cannot +hear of any further examination, nor sentence." + +"Well, well! 'Tis sore pity folks cannot believe as they should, and +keep out of trouble." + +Roger Hall was unable to help thinking that if Mr Justice Roberts had +spoken his real thoughts, and had dared to do it, what he might have +said would rather have been--"'Tis sore pity folks cannot let others +alone to believe as they like, and not trouble them." + +That afternoon, the Lord Bishop of Dover held his Court in Canterbury +Castle, and a string of prisoners were brought up for judgment. Among +them came our friends from Staplehurst--Alice Benden, who was helped +into Court by her fellow-prisoners, White and Pardue, for she could +scarcely walk; Fishcock, Mrs Final, Emmet Wilson, and Sens Bradbridge. +For the last time they were asked if they would recant. The same answer +came from all-- + +"By the grace of God, we will not." + +Then the awful sentence was passed--to be handed over to the secular +arm--the State, which the Church prayed to punish these malefactors +according to their merits. By a peculiarly base and hypocritical +fiction, it was made to appear that the Church never put any heretic to +death--she only handed them over to the State, with a touching request +that they might be gently handled! What that gentle handling meant, +every man knew. If the State had treated a convicted heretic to any +penalty less than death, it would soon have been found out what the +Church understood by gentle handling! + +Then the second sentence, that of the State, was read by the Sheriff. +On Saturday, the nineteenth of June, the condemned criminals were to be +taken to the field beyond the Dane John, and in the hollow at the end +thereof to be burned at the stake till they were dead, for the safety of +the Queen and her realm, and to the glory of God Almighty. God save the +Queen! + +None of the accused spoke, saving two. Most bowed their heads as if in +acceptance of the sentence. Alice Benden, turning to Nicholas Pardue, +said with a light in her eyes-- + +"Then shall we keep our Trinity octave in Heaven!" + +Poor Sens Bradbridge, stretching out her arms, cried aloud to the +Bishop--"Good my Lord, will you not take and keep Patience and Charity?" + +"Nay, by the faith of my body!" was Dick of Dover's reply. "I will +meddle with neither of them both." + +"His Lordship spake sooth then at the least!" observed one of the amused +crowd. + +There was one man from Staplehurst among the spectators, and that was +John Banks. He debated long with himself on his way home, whether to +report the terrible news to the relatives of the condemned prisoners, +and at last he decided not to do so. There could be no farewells, he +knew, save at the stake itself; and it would spare them terrible pain +not to be present. One person, however, he rather wished would be +present. It might possibly be for his good, and Banks had no particular +desire to spare him. He turned a little out of his way to go up to +Briton's Mead. + +Banks found his sister hanging out clothes in the drying-ground behind +the house. + +"Well, Jack!" she said, as she caught sight of him. + +"Is thy master within, Mall? If so be, I would have a word with him an' +I may." + +"Ay, he mostly is, these days. He's took to be terrible glum and +grumpy. I'll go see if he'll speak with you." + +"Tell him I bring news that it concerns him to hear." + +Mary stopped and looked at him. + +"Go thy ways, Mall. I said not, news it concerned thee to hear." + +"Ay, but it doth! Jack, it is touching Mistress?" + +"It is not ill news for her," replied Banks quietly. + +"Then I know what you mean," said Mary, with a sob. "Oh, Jack, Jack! +that we should have lived to see this day!" + +She threw her apron over her face, and disappeared into the house. +Banks waited a few minutes, till Mary returned with a disgusted face. + +"You may go in, Jack; but 'tis a stone you'll find there." + +Banks made his way to the dining-room, where Mr Benden was seated with +a dish of cherries before him. + +"'Day!" was all the greeting he vouchsafed. + +"Good-day, Master. I am but now returned from Canterbury, where I have +been in the Bishop's Court." + +"Humph!" was the only expression of Mr Benden's interest. He had grown +harder, colder, and stonier, since those days when he missed Alice's +presence. He did not miss her now. + +"The prisoners from this place were sentenced to-day." + +"Humph!" + +"They shall die there, the nineteenth of June next." Banks did not feel +it at all necessary to soften his words, as he seemed to be addressing a +stone wall. + +"Humph!" The third growl sounded gruffer than the rest. + +"And Mistress Benden said to Nichol Pardue--`Then shall we keep our +Trinity octave in Heaven!'" + +Mr Benden rose from his chair. Was he moved at last? What was he +about to say? Thrusting forth a finger towards the door, he compressed +his thanks and lamentations into a word-- + +"Go!" + +John Banks turned away. Why should he stay longer? + +"Poor soul!" was what he said, when he found himself again in the +kitchen with Mary. + +"What, _him_?" answered Mary rather scornfully. + +"No--her, that she had to dwell with him. She'll have fairer company +after Saturday." + +"Is it Saturday, Jack?" + +"Ay, Mall. Would you be there? I shall." + +"No," said Mary, in a low tone. "I couldn't keep back my tears, and +maybe they'd hurt her. She'll lack all her brave heart, and I'll not +trouble her in that hour." + +"You'd best not let Master Hall know--neither Mr Roger, nor Mr Thomas. +It'd nigh kill poor little Mistress Christie to know of it aforehand. +She loved her Aunt Alice so dearly." + +"I can hold my tongue, Jack. Easier, maybe, than I can keep my hands +off that wretch in yonder!" + +When Mary went in to lay the cloth for the last meal, she found the +wretch in question still seated at the table, his head buried in his +hands. A gruffer voice than ever bade her "Let be! Keep away!" Mary +withdrew quietly, and found it a shade easier to keep her hands off Mr +Benden after that incident. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +ONE SUMMER DAY. + +The nineteenth of June was the loveliest of summer days, even in the +Martyrs' Field at Canterbury, in the hollow at the end of which the +seven stakes were set up. The field is nearly covered now by the +station of the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, but the hollow can +still be traced whence the souls of His faithful witnesses went up to +God. + +John Banks was early on the ground, and so secured a front place. The +crowd grew apace, until half the field was covered. Not only residents +of the city, but casual sight-seers, made up the bulk of it, the rather +since it was somewhat dangerous to be absent, especially for a suspected +person. From the neighbouring villages, too, many came in--the village +squire and his dame in rustling silks, the parish priest in his cassock, +the labourers and their wives in holiday garb. + +Then the Castle gates opened, and the Wincheap Gate; and forth from them +came a slow, solemn procession, preceded by a crucifer bearing a silver +cross, a long array of black-robed priests, and then the Lord Bishop of +Dover, in his episcopal robes, followed by two scarlet-cassocked +acolytes swinging thuribles, from which ascended a cloud of incense +between his Lordship's sacred person and the wicked heretics who were to +follow. Two and two they came, John Fishcock the butcher, led like one +of his own sheep to the slaughter, and Nicholas White the ironmonger; +Nicholas Pardue and Sens Bradbridge; Mrs Final and Emmet Wilson. After +all the rest came Alice Benden, on the last painful journey that she +should ever take. She would mount next upon wings as an eagle, and +there should for her be no more pain. + +The martyrs recognised their friend John Banks, and each greeted him by +a smile. Then they took off their outer garments--which were the +perquisites of the executioners--and stood arrayed every one in that +white robe of martyrdom, of which so many were worn in Mary's reign; a +long plain garment, falling from the throat to the feet, with long loose +sleeves buttoned at the wrists. Thus prepared, they knelt down to pray, +while the executioners heaped the faggots in the manner best suited for +quick burning. Rising from their prayers, each was chained to a stake. +Now was the moment for the last farewells. + +John Banks went up to Alice Benden. + +"Courage, my mistress, for a little time! and the Lord be with you!" + +"Amen!" she answered. "I thank thee, Jack. Do any of my kin know of my +burning?" + +"Mistress, I told not your brethren, and methinks they wot not of the +day. Methought it should be sore to them, and could do you but a little +good. I pray you, take me as 'presenting all your friends, that do bid +you right heartily farewell, and desire for you an abundant entrance +into the happy kingdom of our Lord God." + +"I thank thee with all mine heart, Jack; thou hast well done. Give, I +pray thee, to my brother Roger this new shilling, the which my father +sent me at my first imprisonment, desiring him that he will give the +same unto mine old good father, in token that I never lacked money, with +mine obedient salutations." + +The gaoler now approached her to place the faggots closer, and Banks was +reluctantly compelled to retire. From her waist Alice took a white lace +which she had tied round it, and handed it to the gaoler, saying, "Keep +this, I beseech you, for my brother Roger Hall. It is the last bond I +was bound with, except this chain." + +Then the torch was put to the faggots. + +"Keep this in memory of me!" reached John Banks, in the clear tones of +Alice Benden; and a white cambric handkerchief fluttered above the +crowd, and fell into his outstretched hands. [These farewells of Alice +Benden are historical.] + +And so He led them to the haven where they would be. + + "No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to this ploughing!" + +There was a hard task yet before John Banks. He had to visit eight +houses, and at each to tell his awful tale, to father and mother, +brother and sister, son and daughter--in three instances to husband or +wife--of the martyrs who had gone home. His first visit was to Seven +Roods. + +"Well, Jack Banks! I thought you'd been dead and buried!" was Tabitha's +sarcastic intimation that it was some time since she had seen him. + +"Ah, Mistress Hall, I could well-nigh wish I had been, before I came to +bring you such tidings as I bring to-day." + +Tabitha looked up in his face, instantly dropped the mop in her hand, +and came over to where he stood. + +"'Tis more than `may be,'" she said significantly, "and I reckon 'tis +more than `must be.' John Banks, is it _done_?" + +"It is done," he replied. "`The Lord God hath wiped away all tears from +her eyes.'" + +"The Lord look upon it, and avenge her!" was the answer, in Tabitha's +sternest and most solemn voice. "The Lord requite it on the head of +Edward Benden, and on the head of Richard Thornton! Wherefore doth He +not rend the heavens and come down? Wherefore--" and as suddenly as +before, Tabitha broke down, and cried her heart out as Banks had never +imagined Tabitha Hall could do. + +Banks did not attempt to reprove her. It was useless. He only said +quietly, "Forgive me to leave you thus, but I must be on my way, for my +tidings must yet be told six times, and there be some hearts will break +to hear them." + +"I'll spare you one," said Tabitha, as well as she could speak. "You +may let be Roger Hall. I'll tell him." + +Banks drew a long breath. Could he trust this strange, satirical, yet +warm-hearted woman to tell those tidings in that house of all others? +And the white lace, which the gaoler, knowing him to be a Staplehurst +man, had entrusted to him to give, could he leave it with her? + +"Nay, not so, I pray you, and thank you, Mistress. I have an especial +message and token for Master Hall. But if you would of your goodness +let Mistress Final's childre know thereof, that should do me an +easement, for the White Hart is most out of my way." + +"So be it, Jack, and God speed thee!" + +Turning away from Seven Roods, Banks did his terrible errand to the six +houses. It was easiest at Fishcock's, where the relatives were somewhat +more distant than at the rest; but hard to tell Nicholas White's +grey-haired wife that she was a widow, hard to tell Emmet Wilson's +husband that he had no more a wife; specially hard at Collet Pardue's +cottage, where the news meant not only sorrow but worldly ruin, so far +as mortal eye might see. Then he turned off to Briton's Mead, and told +Mary, whose tears flowed fast. + +"Will you speak to _him_?" she said, in an awed tone. + +"No!" said Banks, almost sternly. "At the least--what doth he?" + +"Scarce eats a morsel, and his bed's all awry in the morning, as if he'd +done nought but toss about all the night; I think he sleeps none, or +very nigh. I never speak to him without he first doth, and that's +mighty seldom." + +Banks hesitated a moment. Then he went forward, and opened the door of +the dining-room. + +"Mr Benden!" he said. + +The room was in semi-darkness, having no light but that of the moon, and +Banks could see only just enough to assure him that something human sat +in the large chair at the further end. But no sound answered his +appeal. + +"I am but now arrived from Canterbury." + +Still no answer came. John Banks went on, in a soft, hushed voice--not +in his own words. If the heart of stone could be touched, God's words +might do it; if not, still they were the best. + +"`She shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the +sun light upon her, neither any heat. For the Lamb that is in the midst +of the Seat hath fed her, and hath led her unto fountains of living +water; and God hath wiped away all tears from her eyes.'" + +He paused a moment, but the dead silence was unbroken. + +One word more. "The Lord have mercy on thy soul, thou miserable +sinner!" Then Banks shut the door softly and went away. + +There we leave Edward Benden, with the black silence of oblivion over +his future life. Whether the Holy Spirit of God ever took the stony +heart out of him, and gave him a heart of flesh, God alone knows. For +this, in its main features, is a true story, and there is no word to +tell us what became of the husband and betrayer of Alice Benden. + +John Banks went on to the last house he had to visit--the little house +by the Second Acre Close. Roger Hall opened the door himself. Banks +stepped in, and as the light of the hall lantern fell upon his face, +Roger uttered an exclamation of pain and fear. + +"Jack! Thy face--" + +"Hath my face spoken to you, Master Hall, afore my tongue could frame so +to do? Perchance it is best so. Hold your hand." + +Roger obeyed mechanically, and Banks laid on the hand held forth the +long white lace. + +"For you," he said, his voice broken by emotion. John Banks' nerves +were pretty well worn out by that day's work, as well they might be. +"She gave it me for you--at the last. She bade me say it was the last +bond she was bound with--except _that_ chain." + +"Thank God!" were the first words that broke from the brother who loved +Alice so dearly. The Christian spoke them; but the next moment the man +came uppermost, and an exceeding bitter cry of "O Alice, Alice!" +followed the thanksgiving of faith. + +"It is over," said Banks, in a husky voice. "She `shall never see evil +any more.'" + +But he knew well that he could give no comfort to that stricken heart. +Quietly, and quickly, he laid down the new shilling, with its message +for the poor old father; and then without another word--not even saying +"good-night," he went out and closed the door behind him. Only God +could speak comfort to Roger and Christabel in that dark hour. Only God +could help poor Roger to tell Christie that she would never see her dear +Aunt Alice any more until she should clasp hands with her on the street +of the Golden City, and under the shade of the Tree of Life. And God +would help him: John Banks was quite sure of that. But as he stepped +out into the summer night, it seemed almost as if he could see a +vision--as if the outward circumstances in which he had beheld the trio +were prophetic--Alice in the glory of the great light, Roger with his +way shown clearly by the little lamp of God's Word, and Edward in that +black shadow, made lurid and more awful by the faint unearthly light. +The moon came out brightly from behind a cloud, just as Banks lifted his +eyes upwards. + +"Good God, forgive us all!" he said earnestly, "and help all that need +Thee!" + +Alice was above all help, and Roger was sure of help. But who or what +could help Edward Benden save the sovereign mercy of God? + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +WHAT THEY COULD. + +A month had passed since the burning of the Canterbury martyrs. The +Bishop of Dover had gone on a visit to London, and the land had rest in +his absence. It may be noted here, since we shall see no more of him, +that he did not long survive the event. He was stricken suddenly with +palsy, as he stood watching a game at bowls on a Sunday afternoon, and +was borne to his bed to die. The occupation wherein the "inevitable +angel" found him, clearly shows what manner of man he was. + +In Roger Hall's parlour a little conclave was gathered for discussion of +various subjects, consisting of the handful of Gospellers yet left in +Staplehurst. Various questions had been considered, and dismissed as +settled, and the conversation flagged for a few seconds, when Tabitha +suddenly flung a new topic into the arena. + +"Now, what's to be done for that shiftless creature, Collet Pardue? Six +lads and two lasses, and two babes of Sens Bradbridge's, and fewer wits +than lads, and not so many pence as lasses. Won't serve to find 'em all +dead in the gutter. So what's to be done? Speak up, will you, and +let's hear." + +"I can't speak on those lines, Tabitha," replied her brother-in-law. +"Collet is no wise shiftless, for she hath brought up her children in a +good and godly fashion, the which a woman with fewer brains than lads +should ne'er have done. But I verily assent with you that we should do +something to help her. And first--who will take to Sens Bradbridge's +maids?" + +"I will, if none else wants 'em. But they'll not be pampered and +stuffed with cates, and lie on down beds, and do nought, if they dwell +with me. I shall learn 'em to fare hard and be useful, I can tell you." + +"Whether of the twain call you them syllabubs and custard pies as you +set afore us when we supped last with you, Mistress Hall?" quietly asked +Ursula Final. "Seemed to me I could put up with hard fare o' that sort +metely well." + +"Don't be a goose, Ursula. They've got to keep their hands in, +a-cooking, haven't they? and when things be made, you can't waste 'em +nor give 'em the pigs. They've got to be ate, haven't they?" demanded +Mrs Tabitha, in tones of battle; and Ursula subsided without attempting +a defence. + +"What say you, Tom?" asked Roger, looking at his brother. + +Mr Thomas Hall, apparently, did not dare to say anything. He glanced +deprecatingly at his domestic tyrant, and murmured a few words, half +swallowed in the utterance, of which "all agree" were the only +distinguishable syllables. + +"Oh, he'll say as I say," responded Tabitha unblushingly. "There's no +man in the Weald knows his duty better than Thomas Hall; it'd be a mercy +if he'd sometimes do it." + +Mr Thomas Hall's look of meek appeal said "Don't I?" in a manner which +was quite pathetic. + +"Seems to me," said Ralph Final, the young landlord of the White Hart, +"that if we were all to put of a hat or a bowl such moneys as we could +one and another of us afford by the year, for Mistress Pardue and the +childre--such as could give money, look you--and them that couldn't +should say what they would give, it'd be as plain a way as any." + +"Well said, Ralph!" pronounced Mrs Tabitha, who took the lead as usual. +"I'll give my maids' cast-off clothes for the childre, the elder, I +mean, such as 'll fit 'em; the younger must go for Patience and Charity. +And I'll let 'em have a quart of skim milk by the day, as oft as I have +it to spare; and eggs if I have 'em. And Thomas 'll give 'em ten +shillings by the year. And I shouldn't marvel if I can make up a kirtle +or a hood for Collet by nows and thens, out of some gear of my own." + +Mr Thomas Hall being looked at by the Synod to see if he assented, +confirmed the statement of his arbitrary Tabitha by a submissive nod. + +"I'll give two nobles by the year," said Ralph, "and a peck of barley by +the quarter, and a cask of beer at Christmas." + +"I will give them a sovereign by the year," said Roger Hall, "and half a +bale of cloth from the works, that Master suffers me to buy at cost +price." + +"I can't do so much as you," said Eleanor White, the ironmonger's widow; +"but I'll give Collet the worth of an angel in goods by the year, and +the produce of one of the pear-trees in my garden." + +"I can't do much neither," added Emmet Wilson's husband, the baker; "but +I'll give them a penn'orth of bread by the week, and a peck of meal at +Easter." + +"And I'll chop all the wood they burn," said his quiet, studious son +Titus, "and learn the lads to read." + +"Why, Titus, you are offering the most of us all in time and labour!" +exclaimed Roger Hall. + +"You've got your work cut and measured, Titus Wilson," snapped Tabitha. +"If one of them lads'll bide quiet while you can drum ABC into his head +that it'll tarry there a week, 'tis more than I dare look for, I can +tell you." + +"There's no telling what you can do without you try," was the pithy +answer of Titus. + +"I've been marvelling what I could do," said John Banks modestly, "and I +was a bit beat out of heart by your sovereigns and nobles; for I +couldn't scarce make up a crown by the year. But Titus has showed me +the way. I'll learn one of the lads my trade, if Collet 'll agree." + +"Well, then, that is all we can do, it seems--" began Roger, but he was +stopped by a plaintive voice from the couch. + +"Mightn't I do something, Father? I haven't only a sixpence in money; +but couldn't I learn Beatrice to embroider, if her mother would spare +her?" + +"My dear heart, it were to try thy strength too much, I fear," said +Roger tenderly. + +"But you're all doing something," said Christie earnestly, "and wasn't +our blessed Lord weary when He sat on the well? I might give Him a +little weariness, mightn't I--when I've got nothing better?" + +To the surprise of everybody, Thomas had replied. + +"We're not doing much, measured by that ell-wand," said the silent man; +"but Titus and Banks and Christie, they're doing the most." + +Poor Collet Pardue broke down in a confused mixture of thanks and tears, +when she heard the propositions of her friends. She was gratefully +willing to accept all the offers. Three of her boys were already +employed at the cloth-works; one of the younger trio should go to Banks +to be brought up a mason. Which would he choose? + +Banks looked at the three lads offered him--the noisy Noah, the +ungovernable Silas, and the lazy Valentine. + +"I'll have Silas," he said quietly. + +"The worst pickle of the lot!" commented Mrs Tabitha, who made one of +the deputation. + +"Maybe," said Banks calmly; "but I see wits there, and I'll hope for a +heart, and with them and the grace of God, which Collet and I shall pray +for, we'll make a man of Silas Pardue yet." + +And if John Banks ever regretted his decision, it was not on a certain +winter evening, well into the reign of Elizabeth, when a fine, +manly-looking fellow, with a grand forehead wherein "his soul lodged +well," and bright intellectual eyes, came to tell him, the humble mason, +that he had been chosen from a dozen candidates for the high post of +architect of a new church. + +"'Tis your doing," said the architect, as he wrung the hard hand of the +mason. "You made a man of me by your teaching and praying, and never +despairing that I should one day be worth the cost." + +But we must return for a few minutes to Roger Hall's parlour, where he +and his little invalid girl were alone on that night when the conference +had been held. + +"Father," said Christie, "please tell me what is a cross? and say it +little, so as I can conceive the same." + +"What manner of cross, sweet heart?" + +"You know what our Lord saith, Father--`He that taketh not his cross, +and followeth Me, is not worthy of Me.' I've been thinking a deal on it +of late. I wouldn't like not to be worthy of Him. But I can't take my +cross till I know what it is. I asked Cousin Friswith, and she said it +meant doing all manner of hard disagreeable things, like the monks and +nuns do--eating dry bread and sleeping of a board, and such like. But +when I talked with Pen Pardue, she said she reckoned it signified not +that at all. That was making crosses, and our Lord did not mention +that. So please, Father, what is it?" + +"Methinks, my child, Pen hath the right. `Take' is not `make.' We be +to take the cross God layeth on our backs. He makes the crosses; we +have but to take them and bear them. Folks make terrible messes by +times when they essay to make their own crosses. But thou wouldest know +what is a cross? Well, for thee, methinks, anything that cometh across +thee and makes thee cross. None wist so well as thyself what so doth." + +"But, Father!" said Christie in a tone of alarm. + +"Well, sweet heart?" + +"There must be such a lot of them!" + +"For some folks, Christie, methinks the Lord carveth out one great heavy +cross; but for others He hath, as it were, an handful of little light +ones, that do but weigh a little, and prick a little, each one. And he +knoweth which to give." + +"I think," said Christie, with an air of profound meditation, "I must +have the little handful. But then, must I carry them all at once?" + +"One at once, little Christie--the one which thy Father giveth thee; let +Him choose which, and how, and when. By times he may give thee more +than one, but methinks mostly 'tis one at once, though they may change +oft and swiftly. Take _thy_ cross, and follow the Lord Jesus." + +"There's banging doors," pursued Christie with the same thoughtful air; +"that's one. And when my back aches, that's another, and when my head +is so, _so_ tired; and when I feel all strings that somebody's pulling, +as if I couldn't keep still a minute. That last's one of the biggest, I +reckon. And when--" + +The little voice stopped suddenly for a moment. + +"Father, can folks be crosses?" + +"I fear they can, dear heart," replied her father, smiling; "and very +sharp ones too." + +Christie kept her next thoughts to herself. Aunt Tabitha and Cousin +Friswith certainly must be crosses, she mentally decided, and Uncle +Edward must have been dear Aunt Alice's cross, and a dreadful one. Then +she came back to the point in hand. + +"How must I `take up' my cross, Father? Doth it mean I must not grumble +at it, and feel as if I wanted to get rid of it as fast as ever I +could?" + +Roger smiled and sighed. "That is hard work, Christie, is it not? But +it would be no cross if it were not hard and heavy. Thou canst not but +feel that it will be a glad thing to lay it down; but now, while God +layeth it on thee, be willing to bear it for His sake. He giveth it for +thy sake, that thou mayest be made partaker of His holiness; be thou +ready to carry it for His. `The cup which My Father hath given Me, +shall I not drink it?'" + +"There'll be no crosses and cups in heaven, will there, Father?" + +"Not one, Christabel." + +"Only crowns and harps?" the child went on thoughtfully. "Aunt Alice +has both, Father. I think she must make right sweet music. I hope I +sha'n't be far from her. Perhaps it won't be very long before I hear +her. Think you it will, Father?" + +Little Christabel had no idea what a sharp cross she had laid on her +father's heart by asking him that question. Roger Hall had to fight +with himself before he answered it, and it was scarcely to her that his +reply was addressed. + +"`Not as I will, but as Thou wilt.' `He knoweth the way that I take.' +`I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee.'" + +"Oh, Father, what pretty verses! Were you thinking perhaps you'd miss +me if I went soon, poor Father? But maybe, I sha'n't, look you. 'Tis +only when I ache so, and feel all over strings, sometimes I think-- But +we don't know, Father, do we? And we shall both be there, you know. It +won't signify much, will it, which of us goes first?" + +"It will only signify," said Roger huskily, "to the one that tarrieth." + +"Well," answered Christie brightly, "and it won't do that long. I +reckon we scarce need mind." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. + +ONCE MORE AT HOME. + +Up and down his garden--or, to speak more accurately, his brother's +garden--strolled Mr Justice Roberts, his hands behind his back, on a +mild afternoon at the beginning of December 1558. His thoughts, which +of course we have the privilege of reading, ran somewhat in this +fashion-- + +"Well, 'tis a mercy all is pretty well settled now. Nothing but joy and +welcome for the Queen's accession. Every man about, pretty nigh, looks +as if he had been released from prison, and was so thankful he scarce +knew how to express it. To be sure there be a few contradictious folks +that would fain have had the old fashions tarry; but, well-a-day! they +be but an handful. I'll not say I'm not glad myself. I never did love +committing those poor wretches that couldn't believe to order. _I_ +believe in doing your duty and letting peaceable folks be. If they do +reckon a piece of bread to be a piece of bread, I'd never burn them for +it." + +By this reflection it will be seen that Mr Justice Roberts, in his +heart, was neither a Papist nor a Protestant, but a good-natured Gallio, +whose convictions were pliable when wanted so to be. + +"I marvel how soon I shall hear of Tom," the Justice's meditations went +on. "I cannot let him know anything, for I don't know where he is; I +rather guess at Shardeford, with his wife's folks, but I had a care not +to find out. He'll hear, fast enough, that it is safe to come home. I +shouldn't wonder--" + +The Justice wheeled round suddenly, and spoke aloud this time. "Saints +alive! what's that?" + +Nothing either audible or visible appeared for a moment. + +"What was that black thing?" said the Justice to himself. He was +answered suddenly in loud tones of great gratification. + +"Bow-wow! Bow-wow-wow! Bow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" + +"Whatever!" said the Justice to the "black thing" which was careering +about him, apparently on every side of him at once, leaping into the air +as high as his head, trying to lick his face, wagging not only a +feathery tail, but a whole body, laughing all over a delighted face, and +generally behaving itself in a rapturously ecstatic manner. "Art thou +rejoicing for Queen Elizabeth too? and whose dog art thou? Didst come-- +tarry, I do think--nay--ay, it is--I verily believe 'tis old Jack +himself!" + +"Of course it is!" said Jack's eyes and tail, and every bit of Jack, +executing a fresh caper of intense satisfaction. + +"Why, then they must be come!" exclaimed the Justice, and set off for +the front door, pursued by Jack. It is needless to say that Jack won +the race by considerable lengths. + +"Oh, here's Uncle Anthony!" cried Pandora's voice, as he came in sight. +"Jack, you've been and told him--good Jack!" + +There is no need to describe the confused, heart-warm greetings on all +sides--how kisses were exchanged, and hands were clasped, and sentences +were begun that were never finished, and Jack assisted at all in turn. +But when the first welcomes were over, and the travellers had changed +their dress, and they sat down to supper, hastily got up by Margery's +willing hands, there was opportunity to exchange real information on +both sides. + +"And where have you been, now, all this while?" asked the Justice. "I +never knew, and rather wished not to guess." + +"At Shardeford, for the first part; then some months with Frances, and +lately in a farm-house under Ingleborough--folks that Frances knew, good +Gospellers, but far from any priest. And how have matters gone here?" + +"There's nought, methinks, you'll be sorry to hear of, save only the +burnings at Canterbury. Seven from this part--Mistress Benden, and +Mistress Final, Fishcock, White, Pardue, Emmet Wilson, and Sens +Bradbridge. They all suffered a few weeks after your departing." + +All held their breath till the list was over. Pandora was the first to +speak. + +"Oh, my poor little Christie!" + +"Your poor little Christie, Mistress Dorrie, is like to be less poor +than she was. There is a doctor of medicine come to dwell in Cranbrook, +that seems to have somewhat more skill, in her case at least, than our +old apothecary; and you shall find the child going about the house now. +He doth not despair, quoth he, that she may yet walk forth after a quiet +fashion, though she is not like to be a strong woman at the best." + +"Oh, I am so glad, Uncle!" said Pandora, though the tears _were_ still +in her eyes. + +"That Roger Hall is a grand fellow, Tom. He hath kept the works a-going +as if you had been there every day. He saith not much, but he can do +with the best." + +"Ay, he was ever a trustworthy servant," answered Mr Roberts. "'Tis a +marvel to me, though, that he was never arrest." + +"That cannot I conceive!" said the Justice warmly. "The man hath put +his head into more lions' mouths than should have stocked Daniel's den; +and I know Dick o' Dover set forth warrants for his taking. It did seem +as though he bare a charmed life, that no man could touch him." + +"He is not the first that hath so done," said Mistress Grena. +"Methinks, Master Justice, there was another warrant sent out first--`I +am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee.' There have +been divers such, I count, during Queen Mary's reign." + +"Maybe, Mistress Grena, maybe; I am not o'er good in such matters. But +I do think, Brother Tom, you should do well to show your sense of Hall's +diligence and probity." + +"That will I do, if God permit. But there is another to whom I owe +thanks, Anthony, and that is yourself, to have saved my lands and goods +for me." + +"Well, Tom," answered the Justice comically, "you do verily owe me +thanks, to have eaten your game, and worn out your furniture, and spent +your money, during an whole year and an half. Forsooth, I scarce know +how you may fitly show your gratefulness toward me for conferring so +great benefits upon you." + +Mr Roberts laughed. + +"Ah, it pleaseth you to jest, Anthony," he replied, "but I know full +well that had you refused my request, 'tis a mighty likelihood I had had +neither house nor furniture to come to." + +"Nay, I was not such a dolt! I marvel who would, when asked to spend +another man's money, and pluck his fruit, and lie of his best bed! But +I tell thee one thing, Tom--I'll pay thee never a stiver of rent for +mine house that I hold of thee--the rather since I let it to this new +doctor for two pound more, by the year, than I have paid to thee. I'm +none so sure that he'll be ready to turn forth; and if no, happy man be +my dole, for I must go and sing in the gutter, without Jack will give me +a corner of his kennel." + +"Jack's owner will be heartily glad to give you a corner of his kennel, +Brother Anthony, for so long time as it shall please you to occupy it. +Never think on turning forth, I pray you, until you desire to go, at the +least while I live." + +"I thank you right truly, Brother Tom, and will take my advantage of +your kindliness at least for this present. But, my young mistresses, I +pray you remember that you must needs be of good conditions an' you +dwell in the same house with a Justice of Peace, else shall I be forced +to commit you unto gaol." + +"Oh, we'll keep on the windy side of you and the law, Uncle Anthony," +said Gertrude, laughing. "I suppose teasing the life out of one's uncle +is not a criminal offence?" + +"I shall do my best to make it so, my lady," was the reply, in tones of +mock severity. + +The rest of the day was devoted to unpacking and settling down, and much +of the next morning was spent in a similar manner. But when the +afternoon came Pandora rode down, escorted by old Osmund, to Roger +Hall's cottage. She was too familiar there now for the ceremony of +waiting to ring; and she went forward and opened the door of the little +parlour. + +Christabel was standing at the table arranging some floss +silk--"slea-silk" she would have called it--in graduated shades for +working. It was the first time Pandora had ever seen her stand. Down +went the delicate pale green skein in Christie's hand, and where it +might go was evidently of no moment. + +"Mistress Pandora! O dear Mistress Pandora! You've come back! I +hadn't heard a word about it. And look you, I can stand! and I can +walk!" cried Christie, in tones of happy excitement. + +"My dear little Christabel!" said Pandora, clasping the child in her +arms. "I am surely glad for thy betterment--very, very glad. Ay, sweet +heart, we have come home, all of us, thank God!" + +"And you'll never go away again, will you, Mistress Pandora?" + +"`Never' is a big word, Christie. But I hope we shall not go again for +a great while." + +"Oh, and did anybody tell you, Mistress--about--poor Aunt Alice?" said +Christie, with a sudden and total change of tone. + +"No, Christie," answered Pandora significantly. "But somebody told me +touching thy rich Aunt Alice, that she was richer now and higher than +even the Queen Elizabeth, and that she should never again lose her +riches, nor come down from her throne any more." + +"We didn't know, Mistress--Father and me, we never knew when it should +be--we only heard when all was over!" + +"Thou mightest well bless God for that, my dear heart. That hour would +have been sore hard for thee to live through, hadst thou known it +afore." + +The parlour door opened, and they saw Roger Hall standing in the +doorway. + +"Mistress Pandora!" he said. "Thanks be unto God for all His mercies!" + +"Amen!" answered both the girls. + +"Methinks, Mr Hall, under God, some thanks be due to you also," +remarked Pandora, with a smile. "Mine aunt and I had fared ill without +your pots and pans that time you wot of, and mine uncle hath been +ringing your praises in my Father's ears touching your good management +at the cloth-works." + +"I did but my duty, Mistress," said Roger, modestly. + +"I would we all did the same, Mr Hall, so well as you have done," added +Pandora. "Christie, my sister Gertrude saith she will come and see +thee." + +"Oh!" answered Christie, with an intonation of pleasure. "Please, +Mistress Pandora, is she as good as you?" + +Both Roger and Pandora laughed. + +"How must I answer, Christie?" said the latter. "For, if I say `ay,' +that shall be to own myself to be good; and if `no,' then were it to +speak evil of my sister. She is brighter and cheerier than I, and +loveth laughter and mirth. Most folks judge her to be the fairer and +sweeter of the twain." + +"I shall not," said Christie, with a shake of her head; "of that am I +very certain." + +Roger privately thought he should not either. + +"Well," said Christie, "I do hope any way, _now_, all our troubles be +over! Please, Mistress Pandora, think you not they shall be?" + +"My dear little maid!" answered Pandora, laughing. + +"Not without we be in Heaven, Christie," replied her Father, "and +methinks we have scarce won thither yet." + +Christabel looked extremely disappointed. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, "I made sure we should have no more, now Queen +Elizabeth was come in. Must we wait, then, till we get to Heaven, +Father?" + +"Wait till we reach Heaven, sweet heart, for the land where we shall no +more say, `I am sick,' either in health or heart. It were not good for +us to walk ever in the plains of ease; we should be yet more apt than we +be to build our nests here, and forget to stretch our wings upward +toward Him who is the first cause and the last end of all hope and +goodness. 'Tis only when we wake up after His likeness, to be with Him +for ever, that we shall be satisfied with it." + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of All's Well, by Emily Sarah Holt + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL'S WELL *** + +***** This file should be named 21233.txt or 21233.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/3/21233/ + +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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