Basil came to London after the funeral, and methought his sadness then
did become him as much as his joyfulness heretofore. His grief was
answerable to the affection he had borne unto his father, and to that
gentlemen's most excellent deserts. He informed Mr. Congleton that in
somewhat less than one year he should be of age, and until then his
wardship was committed to Sir Henry Stafford. It was agreed betwixt
them, that in respect of his deep mourning and the greater commodity
his being of age would afford for the drawing up of settlements, our
marriage should be deferred until he returned from the continent in a
year's time. Sir Henry was exceeding urgent he should travel abroad
for the bettering as he affirmed of his knowledge of foreign
languages, and acquirement of such useful information as should
hereafter greatly benefit him; but methinks, from what Basil said, it
was chiefly with the end that he should not be himself troubled during
his term of guardianship with proceedings touching his ward's
recusancy, which was so open and manifest, no persuasions dissuading
him from it, that he apprehended therefrom to meet with difficulties.
So with heavy hearts and some tears on both sides, a short time after
Mr. Rookwood's death, we did part, but withal with so comfortable a
hope of a happy future, and so great a security of mutual affection,
that the pangs of separation were softened, and a not unpleasing
melancholy ensued. We forecasted to hold converse by means of letters,
of which he made me promise I should leastways write two for his one;
for he argued, as I always had a pen in my hand, it should be no
trouble to me to write down my thoughts as they arose, but as for
himself, it would cost him much time and labor for to compose such a
letter as it would content me to receive. But herein he was too
modest; for, indeed, in everything he wrote, albeit short and
mostly devoid of such flowers of the fancy as some are wont to scatter
over their letters, I was always excellently well pleased with his
favors of this kind.
Hubert remained in London for to commence his studies in a house of
the law; but when my engagement with his brother became known, he left
off haunting Mr. Lacy's house, and even Mr. Wells's, as heretofore.
His behavior was very mutable; at one time exceedingly obliging, and
at another more strange and distant than it had yet been; so that I
did dread to meet him, not knowing how to shape mine own conduct in
his regard; for if on the one hand I misliked to appear estranged from
Basil's brother, yet if I dealt graciously toward him I feared to
confirm his apprehension of some sort of unusual liking on my part
toward himself.
One month, or thereabouts, after Basil had gone to France, Lady Surrey
did invite me to stay with her at Kenninghall, which greatly delighted
me, for it was a very long time then since I had seen her. The reports
I heard of her lord's being a continual waiter on her majesty, and
always at court, whereas she did not come to London so much as once in
the year, worked in me a very uneasy apprehension that she should not
be as happy in her retirement as I should wish. I long had desired to
visit this dear lady, but durst not be the first to speak of it. Also
to one bred in the country from her infancy, the long while I had
spent in a city, far from any sights or scents of nature, had created
in me a great desire for pure air and green fields, of which the
neighborhood of London had afforded only such scanty glimpses as
served to whet, not satisfy, the taste for such-like pleasures. So
with much contentment I began my journey into Norfolk, which was the
first I had taken since that long one from Sherwood Hall to London
some years before. A coach of my Lord Surrey's, with two new pairs of
horses, was going from the Charter-house to Kenninghall, and a
chamber-woman of my lady's to be conveyed therein; so for conveniency
I travelled with her. We slept two nights on the road (for the horses
were to rest often), in very comfortable lodgings; and about the
middle of the third day we did arrive at Kenninghall, which is a place
of so great magnitude and magnificence, that to my surprised eyes it
showed more like unto a palace, yea, a cluster of palaces, than the
residence of a private though illustrious nobleman. The gardens which
we passed along-side of, the terraces adorned with majestic trees, the
woods at the back of the building, which then wore a gaudy dress of
crimson and golden hues,--made my heart leap for joy to be once more
in the country. But when we passed through the gateway, and into one
court and then another, methought we left the country behind, and
entered some sort of city, the buildings did so close around us on
every side. At last we stopped at a great door, and many footmen stood
about me, and one led me through long galleries and a store of empty
chambers; I forecasting in my mind the while how far it should be to
the gardens I had seen, and if the birds could be heard to sing in
this great house, in which was so much fine tapestry, and pictures in
high-gilt frames, that the eye was dazzled with their splendor. A
little pebbly brook or a tuft of daisies would then have pleased me
more than these fine hangings, and the grass than the smooth carpets
in some of the rooms, the like of which I had never yet seen. But
these discontented thoughts vanished quickly when my Lady Surrey
appeared; and I had nothing more to desire when I received her
affectionate embrace, and saw how joyful was her welcome. Methought,
too, when she led me into the chamber wherein she said her time was
chiefly spent, that its rich adornment became her, who had verily a
queenly beauty, and a presence so sweetly majestic that it alone
was sufficient to call for a reverent respect from others even in her
young years. There was an admirable simplicity in her dress; so that I
likened her in my mind, as she sat in that gilded room, to a pare fair
diamond enchased in a rich setting. In the next chamber her
gentlewoman and chambermaids were at work--some at frames, and others
making of clothes, or else spinning; and another door opened into her
bed-chamber, which was very large, like unto a hall, and the canopy of
the bed so high and richly adorned that it should have beseemed a
throne. The tapestry on the wall, bedight with fruits and flowers,
very daintily wrought, so that nature itself hath not more fair hues
than therein were to be seen.
"When my lord is not at home, I mislike this grand chamber, and do lie
here," she said, and showed me an inner closet; which I perceived to
be plainly furnished, and in one corner of it, which pleased me most
for to see, a crucifix hung against the wall, over above a
kneeling-stool. Seeing my eyes did rest on it, she colored a little,
and said it had belonged to Lady Mounteagle, who had gifted her with
it on her death-bed; upon which account she did greatly treasure the
possession thereof.
I answered, it did very much content me that she should set store on
what had been her grandmother's, for verily she was greatly indebted
to that good lady for the care she had taken of her young years; "but
methinks," I added, "the likeness of your Saviour which died for you
should not need any other excuse for the prizing of it than what
arises from its being what it is, his own dear image."
She said she thought so too; but that in the eyes of Protestants she
must needs allege some other reason for the keeping of a crucifix in
her room than that good one, which nevertheless in her own thinking
she allowed of.
Then she showed me mine own chamber, which was very commodious and
pleasantly situated, not far from hers. From the window was to be seen
the town of Norwich, and an extensive plain intersected with trees;
and underneath the wall of the house a terrace lined with many fair
shrubs and strips of flower-beds, very pleasing to the eye, but too
far off for a more familiar enjoyment than the eyesight could afford.
When we had dined, and I was sitting with my lady in her dainty
sitting-room, she at her tambour-frame, and I with a piece of
patch-work on my knees which I had brought from London, she began
forthwith to question me touching my intended marriage, Mr. Rookwood's
death, and Basil's going abroad, concerning which she had heard many
reports. I satisfied her thereon; upon which she expressed great
contentment that my prospects of happiness were so good; for all which
knew Basil thought well on him, she said; and mostly his neighbors,
which have the chiefest occasions for to judge of a man's disposition.
And Euston, she thought, should prove a very commendable residence,
albeit the house was small for so good an estate; but capable, she
doubted not, of improvements, which my fine taste would bestow on it;
not indeed by spending large sums on outward show, but by small
adornments and delicate beautifying of a house and gardens, such as
women only do excel in; the which kind of care Mr. Rookwood's seat had
lacked for many years. She also said it pleased her much to think that
Basil and I should agree touching religion, for there was little
happiness to be had in marriage where consent doth not exist in so
important a matter. I answered, that I was of that way of thinking
also. But then this consent must be veritable, not extorted; for in so
weighty a point the least shadow of compulsion on the one side, and
feigning on the other, do end by destroying happiness, and virtue
also, which is more urgent. She made no answer; and I then asked her
if she liked Kenninghall more than London, and had found in a
retired life the contentment she had hoped for. She bent down her head
over her work-frame, so as partly to conceal her face; but how
beautiful what was to be seen of it appeared, as she thus hid the
rest, her snowy neck supporting her small head, and the shape of her
oval cheek just visible beneath the dark tresses of jet-black hair!
When she raised that noble head methought it wore a look of becoming,
not unchristian, pride, or somewhat better than should be titled
pride; and her voice betokened more emotion than her visage betrayed
when she said, "I am more contented, Constance, to inhabit this my
husband's chiefest house than to dwell in London or anywhere else.
Where should a wife abide with so much pleasure as in a place where
she may be sometimes visited by her lord, even though she should not
always be so happy as to enjoy his company? My Lord Arundel hath often
urged me to reside with him in London, and pleaded the comfort my Lady
Lumley and himself, in his declining years, should find in my filial
care; but God helping me--and I think in so doing I fulfill his
will--naught shall tempt me to leave my husband's house till he doth
himself compel me to it; nor by resentment of his absence lose one day
of his dear company I may yet enjoy."
"O my dear lady," I exclaimed, "and is it indeed thus with you? Doth
my lord so forget your love and his duty as to forsake one he should
cherish as his most dear treasure?"
"Nay, nay," she hastily replied; "Philip doth not forsake me; a little
neglectful he is" (this she said with a forced smile), "as all the
queen's courtiers must needs be of their wives; for she is so
exacting, that such as stand in her good graces cannot be stayers at
home, but ever waiters on her pleasure. If Philip doth only leave
London or Richmond for three or four days, she doth suspect the cause
of his absence; her smiles are turned to frowns, and his enemies
immediately do take advantage of it. I tried to stay in London one
while this year, after Bess was married; but he suffered so much in
consequence from the loss of her good graces when she heard I was at
the Charter-house, that I was compelled to return here."
"And hath my lord been to see you since?" I eagerly asked.
"Once," she answered; "for three short days. O Constance, it was a
brief, and, from its briefness, an almost painful joy, to see him in
his own princely home, and at the head of his table, which he doth
grace so nobly; and when he went abroad saluted by every one with so
much reverence, that he should be taken to be a king when he is here;
and himself so contented with this show of love and homage, that his
face beamed with pleasant smiles; and when he observed what my poor
skill had effected in the management of his estates, which do greatly
suffer from the prodigalities of the court, he commended me with so
great kindness as to say he was not worthy of so good a wife."
I could not choose but say amen in mine own soul to this lord's true
estimation of himself, and of her, one hair of whose head did, in my
thinking, outweigh in merit his whole frame; but composed my face lest
she should too plainly read my resentment that the like of her should
be so used by an ungrateful husband.
"Alas," she continued, "this joy should be my constant portion if an
enemy robbed me not of my just rights. 'Tis very hard to be hated by a
queen, and she so great and powerful that none in the compass of her
realm can dare to resent her ill treatment. I had a letter from my
lord last week, in which he says if it be possible he will soon visit
me again; but he doth add that he has so much confidence in my
affection, that he is sure I would not will him to risk that which may
undo him, if the queen should hear of it. 'For, Nan,' he writes, 'I
resemble a man scrambling up unto a slippery rock, who, if he
gaineth not the topmost points, must needs fall backward into a
precipice; for if I lose but an inch of her majesty's favor, I am like
to fall as my fathers have done, and yet lower. So be patient, good
Nan, and bide the time when I shall have so far ascended as to be in
less danger of a rapid descent, in which thine own fortunes would be
involved."
She folded this letter, which she had taken out of her bosom, with a
deep sigh, and I doubt not with the same thought which was in mine own
mind, that the higher the ascent, the greater doth prove the peril of
an overthrow, albeit to the climber's own view the further point doth
seem the most secured. She then said she would not often speak with me
touching her troubles; but we should try to forget absent husbands and
lovers, and enjoy so much pleasure in our mutual good company as was
possible, and go hawking also and riding on fine days, and be as merry
as the days were long. And, verily, at times youthful spirits assumed
the lead, and like two wanton children we laughed sometimes with
hearty cheer at some pleasantry in which my little wit but fanciful
humor did evince itself for her amusement. But the fair sky of these
sunshiny hours was often overcast by sudden clouds; and weighty
thoughts, ill assorting with soaring joylity, wrought sad endings to
merry beginnings. I restrained the expression of mine own sorrow at my
father's uncertain fate and Basil's absence, not to add to her
heaviness; but sometimes, whilst playing in some sort the fool to make
her smile, which smiles so well became her, a sharp aching of the
heart caused me to fail in the effort; which when she perceived, her
arm was straightway thrown round my neck, and she would speak in this
wise:
"O sweet jester! poor dissembler! the heart will have its say, albeit
not aided by the utterance of the tongue. Believe me, good Constance,
I am not unmindful of thy griefs, albeit somewhat silent concerning
them, as also mine own; for that I eschew melancholy themes, having a
well-spring of sorrow in my bosom which doth too readily overflow if
the sluices be once opened."
Thus spake this sweet lady; but her unconscious tongue, following the
current of her thoughts more frequently than she did credit, dwelt on
the theme of her absent husband; and on whichever subject talk was
ministered between us, she was ingenious to procure it should end with
some reference to this worshipped object. But verily, I never
perceived her to express, in speaking of that then unworthy husband,
but what, if he had been present, must needs have moved him to regret
his negligent usage of an incomparable, loving, and virtuous wife,
than to any resentment of her complaints, which were rather of others
who diverted his affections from her than of him, the prime cause of
her grief. One day that we walked in the pleasaunce, she led the way
to a seat which she said during her lord's last visit he had commended
for the fair prospect it did command, and said it should be called "My
Lady's Arbor."
"He sent for the head-gardener," quoth she, "and charged him to plant
about it so many sweet flowers and gay shrubs as should make it in
time a most dainty bower fit for a queen. These last words did, I
ween, unwittingly escape his lips, and, I fear me, I was too shrewish;
for I exclaimed, 'O no, my lord; I pray you let it rather be
_un_fitted for a queen, if so be you would have me to enjoy it!' He
made no answer, and his countenance was overcast and sad when he
returned to the house. I misdoubted my hasty speech had angered him;
but when his horse came to the door for to carry him away to London
and the court, he said very kindly, as he embraced me, 'Farewell, dear
heart! mine own good Nan!' and in a letter he since wrote he inquired
if his orders had been obeyed touching his sweet countess's
pleasure-house."
I always noticed Lady Surrey to be very eager for the coming of the
messenger which brought letters from London mostly twice in the week,
and that in the untying of the strings which bound them her hand
trembled so much that she often said, "Prithee, Constance, cut this
knot. My fingers be so cold I have not so much patience as should
serve to the undoing thereof."
One morning I perceived she was more sad than usual after the coming
of this messenger. The cloud on her countenance chased away the joy I
had at a letter from Basil, which was written from Paris, and wherein
he said he had sent to Rheims for to inquire if my father was yet
there, for in that case he should not so much fail in his duty as to
omit seeking to see him; and so get at once, he trusted, a father and
a priest's blessing."
"What ails you, sweet lady?" I asked, seeing her lips quiver and her
eyes to fill with tears.
"Nothing should ail me," she answered more bitterly than was her wont.
"It should be, methinks, the part of a wife to rejoice in her
husband's good fortune; and here is one that doth write to me that my
lord's favor with the queen is so great that nothing greater can be
thought of: so that some do say, if he was not married he would be
like to mount, not only to the steps, but on to the throne itself.
Here should be grand news for to rejoice the heart of the Countess of
Surrey. Prithee, good wench, why dost thou not wish thy poor friend
joy?"
I felt so much choler that any one should write to my lady in this
fashion, barbing with cruel malice, or leastways careless lack of
thought, this wanton arrow, that I exclaimed in a passion it should be
a villain had thus written. She smiled in a sad manner and answered:
"Alas, an innocent villain I warrant the writer to be, for the letter
is from my Bess, who has heard others speak of that which she doth
unwittingly repeat, thinking it should be an honor to my lord, and to
me also, that he should be spoken of in this wise. But content thee;
'tis no great matter to hear that said again which I have had hints of
before, and am like to hear more of it, maybe."
Then hastily rising, she prepared to go abroad; and we went to a lodge
in the park, wherein she harbored a great store of poor children which
lacked their parents; and then to a barn she had fitted up for to
afford a night's lodging to travellers; and to tend sick
people--albeit, saving herself, she had no one in her household at
that time one half so skilful in this way as my Lady l'Estrange. I
ween this was the sole place wherein her thoughts were so much
occupied that she did for a while forget her own troubles in curing
those of others. A woman had stopped there the past night, who, when
we went in, craved assistance from her for to carry her to her native
village, which was some fifteen miles north of Norwich. She was
afraid, she said, for to go into the town; for nowadays to be poor was
to be a wicked person in men's eyes; and a traveller without money was
like to be whipt and put into the stocks for a vagabond, which she
should die of if it should happen to her, who had been in the service
of a countess, and had not thought to see herself in such straits,
which she should never have been reduced to if her good lady had not
been foully dealt with. Lady Surrey, wishing, I ween, by some sort of
examination, to detect the truth of her words, inquired in whose
service she had lived.
"Madam," she answered, "I was kitchen maid in the Countess of
Leicester's house, and never left her service till she was murthered
some years back by a black villain in her household, moved by a
villain yet more black than himself."
"Murthered!" my lady exclaimed. "It was bruited at the time that lady
had died of a fall."
"Ay, marry," quoth the beggar, shaking her head, "I warrant you,
ladies, that fall was compassed by more hands than two, and more minds
than one. But it be not safe for to say so; as Mark Hewitt could
witness if he was not dead, who was my sweetheart and a scullion at
Cumnor Place, and was poisoned in prison for that he offered to give
evidence touching his lady's death which would have hanged some which
deserved it better than he did--albeit he had helped to rob a coach in
Wales after he had been discharged, as we all were, from the old
place. Oh, if folks dared to tell all they do know, some which ride at
the queen's side should swing on a gibbet before this day
twelvemonth."
Lady Surrey sat down by this woman; and albeit I pulled her by the
sleeve and whispered in her ear to come away--for methought her talk
was not fitting for her to hear, whose mind ran too much already on
melancholy themes--she would not go, and questioned this person very
much touching the manner of Lady Leicester's life, and what was
reported concerning her death. This recital was given in a homely but
withal moving manner, which lent a greater horror to it than more
studied language should have done. She said her lady bad been ill some
time and never left her room; but that one day, when one of her lord's
gentlemen had come from London, and had been examining of the house
with the steward for to order some repairing of the old walls and
staircases, and the mason had been sent for also late in the evening,
a so horrible shriek was heard from the part of the house wherein the
countess's chamber was, that it frighted every person in the place, so
that they did almost lose their senses; but that she herself had run
to the passage on which the lady's bed-chamber did open, and saw some
planking removed, and many feet below the body of the countess lying
quite still, and by the appearance of her face perceived her to be
gone. And when the steward came to look also (this the woman said,
lowering her voice, with her hollow eyes fixed on Lady Surrey's
countenance, which did express fear and sorrow), "I'll warrant you, my
lady, he did wear a murtherer's visage, and I noticed that the corpse
bled at his approach. But methinketh if that earl which rides by the
queen's side, and treads the world under his feet, had then been nigh,
the mangled form should have raised itself and the cold dead lips
cried out, 'Thou art the man!' Marry, when poor folks do steal a
horse, or a sheep, or shoot the fallow-deer in a nobleman's park, they
straightway do suffer and lose their life; but if a lord which is a
courtier shall one day choose to put his wife out of his way for the
bettering of his fortunes, even though it be by a foul murther, no
more ado is made than if he had shot a pigeon in his woods."
Then changing her theme, she asked Lady Surrey to dress a wound in her
leg, for that she did hear from some in that place that she often did
use such kindness toward poor people. Without such assistance, she
said, to walk the next day would be very painful. My lady straightway
began to loosen the bandages which covered the sore, and inquired how
long a time it should be since it had been dressed.
"Four days ago," the beggar answered, "Lady l'Estrange had done her so
much good as to salve the wound with a rare ointment which had greatly
assuaged the pain, until much walking had inflamed it anew."
We both did smile; and my lady said she feared to show herself less
skilful than her old pupil; but if the beggar should be credited, she
did acquit herself indifferently well of her charitable task; and the
bounty she bestowed upon her afterward, I doubt not, did increase her
patient's esteem of her ability. But I did often wish that evening my
lady had not heard this woman's tale, for I perceived her to harp upon
it with a very notable persistency; and when I urged no credit should
attach itself to her report, and it was most like to be untrue,
she affirmed that some similar surmises had been spoken of at the time
of Lady Leicester's death; and that Lord Sussex and Lord Arundel had
once mentioned, in her hearing, that the gypsy was infamed for his
wife's death, albeit never openly accused thereof. She had not taken
much heed of their discourse at the time, she said; but now it came
back into her mind with a singular distinctness, and it was passing
strange she should have heard from an eye-witness the details of this
tragedy. She should, she thought, write to her husband what the woman
had related; and then she changed her mind, and said she would not.
All my pleadings to her that she should think no more thereon were
vain. She endeavored to speak of other subjects, but still this one
was uppermost in her thoughts. Once, in the midst of an argument
touching the uses of pageants, which she maintained to be folly and
idle waste, but which I defended, for that they sometimes served to
exercise the wit and memory of such as contrive them, carrying on the
dispute in a lively fashion, hoping thus to divert her mind, she broke
forth in these exclamations: "Oh, what baneful influences do exist in
courts, when men, themselves honorable, abhor not to company with such
as be accused of foul crimes never disproved, and if they will only
stretch forth their blood-stained hands to help them to rise, disdain
not to clasp them!"
Then later, when I had persuaded her to play on the guitar, which she
did excellently well, she stopped before the air was ended to ask if I
did know if Lady Leicester was a fair woman, and if her husband was at
any time enamored of her. And when I was unable to resolve these
questions, she must needs begin to argue if it should be worse never
to be loved, or else to lose a husband's affection; and then asked me,
if Basil should alter in his liking of me, which she did not hold to
be possible, except that men be so wayward and inconstant that the
best do sometimes change, if I should still be glad he had once loved
me.
"If he did so much alter," I answered, "as no longer to care for me,
methinks I should at once cast him out of my heart; for then it would
not have been Basil, but a fancied being coined by mine own
imaginings, I should have doted on."
"Tut, tut!" she cried; "thou art too proud. If thou dost speak truly,
I misdoubt that to be love which could so easily discard its object."
"For my part," I replied, somewhat nettled, "I think the highest sort
of passion should be above suspecting change in him which doth inspire
it, or resenting a change which should procure it freedom from an
unworthy thrall."
"I ween," she answered, "we do somewhat misconceive each one the
other's meaning; and moreover, no parallel can exist between a wife's
affection and a maiden's liking." Then she said she hoped the poor
woman would stay another day, so that she might speak with her again;
for she would fain learn from her what was Lady Leicester's behavior
during her sorrowful years, and the temper of her mind before her so
sudden death.
"Indeed, dear lady," I urged, "what likelihood should there be that a
serving-wench in her kitchen should be acquainted with a noble lady's
thoughts?"
"I pray God," my lady said, "our meanest servants do not read in our
countenance, yea in the manner of our common and indifferent actions,
the motions of our souls when we be in such trouble as should only be
known to God and one true friend."
Lady Surrey sent in the morning for to inquire if the beggar was gone.
To my no small content she had departed before break of day. Some days
afterward a messenger from London brought to my lady, from Arundel
House, a letter from my Lady Lumley, wherein she urged her to
repair instantly to London, for that the earl, her grandfather, was
very grievously sick, and desired for to see her. My lady resolved to
go that very day, and straightway gave orders touching the manner of
her journey, and desired her coach to be made ready. She proposed that
the while she was absent I should pay a visit to Lady l'Estrange,
which I had promised for to do before I left Norfolkshire; "and then,"
quoth my lady, "if my good Lord Arundel doth improve in his health, so
that nothing shall detain me at London, I will return to my
banishment, wherein my best comfort shall ever be thy company, good
Constance. But if peradventure my lord should will me to stay with
him" (oh, how her eyes did brighten! and the fluttering of her heart
could be perceived in her quick speech and the heaving of her bosom as
she said these words), "I will then send one of my gentlewomen to
fetch thee from Lynn Court to London; and if that should happen, why
methinks our meeting may prove more merry than our parting."
She then dispatched a messenger on horseback to Sir Hammond
l'Estrange's house, which did return in some hours with a very
obliging answer; for his lady did write that she almost hoped my Lady
Surrey would be detained in London, if so be it would not discontent
her, and so she should herself have the pleasure of my company for a
longer time, which was what she greatly desired.
For some miles, when she started, I rode with my lady in her coach,
and then mounted on a horse she had provided for my commodity, and,
accompanied by two persons of her household, went to Sir Hammond
l'Estrange's seat. It stood in a bleak country without scarce so much
as one tree in its neighborhood, but a store of purple heath, then in
flower, surrounding it on all sides. As we approached unto it, I for
the first time beheld the sea. The heath had minded me of Cannock
Chase and my childhood. I ween not what the sea caused me to think of;
only I know that the waves which I heard break on the shore had, to my
thinking, a wonderful music, so exceeding sweet and pleasant to mine
ears that one only sound of it were able to bring, so it did seem to
me, all the hearts of this world asleep. Yet although I listed
thereunto with a quiet joy, and mine eyes rested on those vasty depths
with so much contentment, as if perceiving therein some image of the
eternity which doth await us, the words which rose in my mind, and
which methinks my lips also framed, were these of Holy Writ: "Great as
the sea is thy destruction." If it be not that some good angel
whispered them in mine ear for to temper, by a sort of forecasting of
what was soon to follow, present gladness, I know not what should have
caused so great a dissimilarity between my then thinking and the words
I did unwittingly utter.
Lady l'Estrange met me on the steps of her house, which was small, but
such as became a gentleman of good fortune, and lacking none of the
commodities habitual to such country habitations. The garden at the
back of it was a true labyrinth of sweets; and an orchard on one side
of it, and a wood of fir-trees beyond the wall, shielded the shrubs
which grew therein from the wild sea-blasts. Milicent was delighted
for to show me every part of this her home. The bettering of her
fortunes had not wrought any change in the gentle humility of this
young lady. The attractive sweetness of her manner was the same,
albeit mistress of a house of her own. She set no greater store on
herself than she had done at the Charter-house, and paid her husband
as much respect and timid obedience as she had ever done her mistress.
Verily, in his presence I soon perceived she scarce held her soul to
be her own; but studied his looks with so much diligence, and framed
each word she uttered to his liking with so much ingenuity, that
I marvelled at the wit she showed therein, which was not very apparent
in other ways. He was a tall man, of haughty carriage and
well-proportioned features. His eyes were large and gray; his nose of
a hawkish shape; his lips very thin. I never in any face did notice
the signs of so set a purpose or such unyielding lineaments as in this
gentleman. Milicent told me he was pious, liberal, an active
magistrate, and an exceeding obliging and indulgent husband; but
methought her testimony on this score carried no great weight with it,
for that her meekness would read the most ordinary kindnesses as rare
instances of goodness. She seemed very contented with her lot; and I
heard from Lady Surrey's waiting-maid (which she had sent with me from
Kenninghall) that all the servants in her house esteemed her to be a
most virtuous and patient lady; and so charitable, that all who knew
her experience her bounty. On the next day she showed me her garden,
her dairy, poultry-yard, and store-room; and also the closet where she
kept the salves and ointments for the dressing of wounds, which she
said she was every morning employed in for several hours. I said, if
she would permit me, I would try to learn this art under her
direction, for that nothing could be thought of more useful for such
as lived in the country, where such assistance was often needed. Then
she asked me if I was like to live in the country, which, from my
words, she hoped should be the case; and I told her, if it pleased
God, in one year I would be married to Mr. Rookwood, of Euston Hall;
which she was greatly rejoiced to learn.
Then, as we walked under the trees, talk ensued between us touching
former days at the Charter-house; and when the sun was setting amidst
gold and purple clouds, and the wind blew freshly from the sea, whilst
the barking of Sir Hammond's dogs, and the report of his gun as he
discharged it behind the house, minded me more than ever of old
country scenes in past time, my thoughts drew also future pictures of
what mine own home should be, and the joy with which I should meet
Basil, when he returned from the field-sports in which he did so much
delight. And a year seemed a long time to wait for so much happiness
as I foresaw should be ours when we were once married. "If Lady
l'Estrange is so contented," I thought, "whose husband is somewhat
churlish and stem, if his countenance and the reports of his neighbors
are to be credited, how much enjoyment in her home shall be the
portion of my dear Basil's wife! than which a more sweet-tempered
gentleman cannot be seen, nor one endued with more admirable qualities
of all sorts, not to speak of youth and beauty, which are perishable
advantages, but not without attractiveness."
Mrs. l'Estrange, an unmarried sister of Sir Hammond, lived in the
house, and some neighbors which had been shooting with him came to
supper. The table was set with an abundance of good cheer; and
Milicent sat at the head of it, and used a sweet cordiality toward all
her guests, so that every one should seem welcome to her hospitality;
but I detected looks of apprehension in her face, coupled with hasty
glances toward her husband, if any one did bring forward subjects of
discourse which Sir Hammond had not first broached, or did appear in
any way to differ with him in what he himself advanced. Once when Lord
Burleigh was mentioned, one of the gentleman said somewhat in
disparagement of this nobleman, as if he should have been to blame in
some of his dealings with the parliament, which brought a dark cloud
on Sir Hammond's brow. Upon which Milicent, the color coming into her
cheeks, and her voice trembling a little, as she seemed to cast about
her for some subject which should turn the current of this talk, began
to tell what a store of patients she had seen that day, and to
describe them, as if seeking to stop the mouths of the disputants.
"One," quoth she, "hath been three times to me this week to have his
hands dressed, and I be verily in doubt what his station should be. He
hath a notable appearance of good breeding, albeit but poorly
apparelled, and his behavior and discourse should show him to be a
gentleman. The wounds of his hands were so grievously galled for want
of proper dressing, when he first came, I feared they should mortify,
and the curing of them to exceed my poor skill. The skin was rubbed
off the whole palms, as if scraped off by handling of ropes. A more
courageous patient could not be met with. Methought the dressing
should have been very painful, but he never so much as once did wince
under it. He is somewhat reserved in giving an account of the manner
in which he came by those wounds, and answered jestingly when I
inquired thereof. But to-morrow I will hear more on it, for I charged
him to come for one more dressing of his poor hands."
"Where doth this fellow lodge?" Sir Hammond asked across the table in
a quick eager manner.
"At Master Rugeley's house, I have heard," quoth his wife.
Then his fist fell on the table so that it shook.
"A lewd recusant, by God!" he cried. "I'll be sworn this is the popish
priest escaped out of Wisbeach, for whom I have this day received
orders to make diligent search. Ah, ah! my lady hath trapped the
Jesuit fox."
I looked at Milicent, and she at me. O my God, what looks those were!