My first thought, when Muriel had announced to me the coming of the

pursuivants in search of Mistress Ward, was to thank God she was

beyond their reach, and with so much prudence had left us in ignorance

of her abode. Then making haste to dress--for I apprehended these

officers should visit every chamber in the house--I quickly repaired

to my aunt's room, who was persuaded by Muriel that they had sent for

to take an inventory of the furniture, which she said was a very

commendable thing to do, but she wished they had waited until such

time as she had had her breakfast. By an especial mercy, it so

happened that these officers--or, leastways, two out of three of

them--were quiet, well-disposed men, who exercised their office with

as much mildness as could be hoped for, and rather diminished by their

behavior than in any way increased the hardships of this invasion of

domestic privacy. We were all in turns questioned touching Mistress

Ward's abode except my aunt, whose mental infirmity was pleaded for to

exempt her from this ordeal. The one officer who was churlish said,

"If the lady's mind be unsound, 'tis most like she will let the cat

out of the bag," and would have forced questions on her; but the

others forcibly restrained him from it, and likewise from openly

insulting us, when we denied all knowledge of the place she had

resorted to. Howsoever, he vented his displeasure in scornful looks

and cutting speeches. They carried away sundry prayer-books, and

notably the "Spiritual Combat," which Mrs. Engerfield had gifted me

with, when I slept at her house at Northampton, the loss of which

grieved me not a little, but yet not so much as it would have done at

another time, for my thoughts were then wholly set on discovering who

had betrayed Mistress Ward's intervention, and what had been Mr.

Watson's fate, and if Basil also had been implicated. I addressed

myself to the most seemly of the three men, and asked him what her

offence had been.

"She assisted," he answered, "in the escape of a prisoner from

Bridewell."

"In what manner?" I said, with so much of indifferency as I could

assume.

"By the smuggling of a rope into his cell," he answered, "which was

found yet hanging unto his window, and which none other than that

pestilent woman could have furnished him with."

Alas! this was what I feared would happen, when she first formed this

project; but she had assured us Mr. Watson would let himself down,

holding the two ends of the cord in his hands, and so would be enabled

to carry it away with him after he had got down, and so it would never

be discovered by what means he had made his escape.

"And this prisoner hath then escaped?" I said, in a careless manner.

"Marry, out of one cage," he answered; "but I'll warrant you he is by

this time lodged in a more safe dungeon, and with such bracelets on

his hands and feet as shall not suffer him again to cheat the

gallows."

I dared not question him further; {456} and finding nothing more to

their purpose, the pursuivants retired.

When Mr. Congleton, Muriel, and I afterward met in the parlor, none of

us seemed disposed to speak. There be times when grief is loquacious,

but others when the weight of apprehension doth check speech. At last

I broke this silence by such words as "What should now be done?" and

"How can we learn what hath occurred?"

Then Mr. Congleton turned toward me, and with much gravity and unusual

vehemency,

"Constance," quoth he, "when Margaret Ward resolved on this bold

action, which in the eyes of some savored of rashness, I warned her to

count the cost before undertaking it, for that it was replete with

many dangers, and none should embark in it which was not prepared to

meet with a terrible death. She told me thereupon that for many past

years her chief desire had been to end her life by such a death, if it

should be for the sake of religion, and that the day she should be

sentenced to it would prove the joyfullest she had yet known. This she

said in an inflamed manner, and I question not but it was her true

thinking. I do not gainsay the merit of this pining, though I could

wish her virtue had been of a commoner sort. But such being her aim,

her choice, and desire, I am not of opinion that I should now disturb

the peace of my wife's helpless days or mine own either (who have not,

I cry God mercy for it, the same wish to suffer the pains reserved to

recusants, albeit I hope in him he would give me strength, to do so if

conscience required it), not to speak of you and Muriel and my other

daughters, for the sake of unavailing efforts in her so desperate

case, who hath made her own bed (and I deny it not to be a glorious

one) and, as she hath made it, must lie on it. So I will betake myself

to prayer for her, which she said was the whole scope of the favor she

desired from her friends, if she fell into trouble, and dreaded

nothing so much as any other dealings in her behalf; and if Mr. Roper,

or Brian Lacy, or young Rookwood, have any means by which to send her

money for her convenience in prison, I will give it; but other

measures I will not take, nor by any open show of interest in her fate

draw down suspicions on us as parties and abettors in her so-called

treason."

Neither of us replied to this speech; and after that our short meal

was ended, Muriel went to her mother's chamber, and I set myself to

consider what I should do; for to sit and wait in this terrible

ignorance of what had happened seemed an impossible thing. So taking

my maid with me, albeit it rained a little, I walked to Kate's house,

and found she and her husband had left it an hour before for to return

to Mr. Benham's seat. Polly and Sir Ralph, who slept there also, were

yet abed, and had given orders, the servant said, not to be disturbed.

So I turned sorrowfully from the door, doubting whither to apply

myself; for Mr. Roper lived at Richmond, and Mr. and Mrs. Wells were

abroad. I thought to go to Mr. Hodgson, whose boatman had drawn Basil

into this enterprise, and was standing forecasting which way to turn,

when all of a sudden who should I see but Basil himself coming down

the lane toward me! I tried to go for to meet him, but my legs failed

me, and I was forced to lean against my maid till he came up to us and

drew my arm in his. Then I felt strong again, and bidding her to go

home, walked a little way with him. The first words he said were:

"Mr. Watson is safe, but hath broke his leg and his arm. Know you

aught of Mistress Ward?"

"There is a warrant out against her," I answered, and told him of the

pursuivants coming to seek for her at our house.

"God shield," he said, "she be not apprehended! for sentence of death

would then be certainly passed upon her."

{457}

"Oh, Basil," I exclaimed, "why was the cord left?"

"Ah, the devil would have it," he began; but chiding himself, lifted

off his hat, and said, "Almighty God did so permit it to happen that

this mishap occurred. But I see," he subjoined, "you are not fit to

walk or stand, sweetheart. Come into Mr. Wells's house. Albeit they

are not at home, we may go and sit in the parlor; and it may be more

prudent I should not be seen abroad to-day. I pray God Mr. Watson and

I will sail to-night for Calais."

So we rang the bell at the door of Mr. Wells's house; and his

housekeeper, who opened it, smiled when she saw Basil, for he was a

great favorite with her, as, indeed, methinks he always was with all

kinds of people. She showed us into Mr. Wells's study, which she said

was the most comfortable room and best aired in the house, for that,

for the sake of the books, she did often light a fire in it; and

nothing would serve her but she must do so now. And then she asked if

we had breakfasted, and Basil said i' faith he had not, and should be

very glad of somewhat to eat, if she would fetch it for him. So when

the fire was kindled--and methought it never would burn, the wood was

so damp--she went away for a little while, and he then told me the

haps of the past night.

"Tom Price (Hodgson's boatman) and I," he said, "rowed his boat close

onto the shore, near to the prison, and laid there under the cover of

some penthouses which stood betwixt the river and the prison's wall.

When the clock struck twelve, I promise you my heart began to beat as

any girl's, I was so frightened lest Mr. Watson should not have

received the cord, or that his courage should fail. Howsoever, in less

than one minute I thought I perceived something moving about one of

the windows, and then a body appeared sitting at first on the ledge,

but afterward it turned itself round, and, facing the wall, sank down

slowly, hanging on by a cord."

"Oh, Basil!" I exclaimed, "could you keep on looking?"

"Yea," he answered; "as if mine eyes should start out of my head. He

came down slowly, helping himself, I ween, with his feet against the

wall; but when he got to about twenty or thirty feet, I guess it to

have been, from the roof of the shed, he stopped of a sudden, and hung

motionless. 'He is out of breath,' I said to Tom. 'Or the rope proves

too short,' quoth he. We watched him for a moment. He swung to and

fro, then rested again, his feet against the wall. 'Beshrew me, but I

will climb on to that roof myself, and get nigh to him,' I whispered

to Tom, and was springing out of the boat, when we heard a noise more

loud than can be thought of. 'I'll warrant you he hath fallen on the

planks,' quoth Tom. 'Marry, but we will pick him up then,' quoth I;

and found myself soon on the edge of the roof, which was broken in at

one place, and, looking down, I thought I saw him lying on the ground.

I cried as loud as I durst, 'Mr. Watson, be you there? Hist! Are you

hurt? Speak if you can.' Methinks he was stunned by the fall, for he

did not answer; so there remained nothing left to do but to leap

myself through the opening into the shed, where I found him with his

eyes shut, and moaning. But when I spake to him he came to himself,

'and tried to rise, but could not stand, one of his legs being much

hurt. 'Climb on to my back, reverend sir,' I said 'and with God's help

we shall get out.' Howsoever, the way out did not appear manifest, and

mostly with another beside one's self to carry. But glancing round the

inside of the shed, I perceived a door, the fastening of which, when I

shook it, roughly enough I promise you, gave way; and the boat lay,

God be praised, close to it outside. I gave one look up to the prison,

and saw lights flashing in some of the windows. 'They be astir,' I

said to Tom. 'Hist! lend a hand, man, and take the reverend gentleman

from off my back and into {458} the boat.' Mr. Watson uttered a groan.

He most have suffered cruel pain; for, as we since found, his leg and

also his arm were broken, and he looked more dead than alive.

"We began to row as fast as we could; but now he, coming to himself,

feels in his coat, and cries out:

"'Oh, kind sirs--the cord, the cord! Stop, I pray you; stop, turn

back.'

"'Not for the world,' I cried, 'reverend sir.'

"Then he, in a lamentable voice:

"'Oh, if you turn not back and bring away the cord, the poor

gentlewoman which did give it unto me must needs fall into sore

trouble. Oh, for God's sake, turn back!'

"I gave a hasty glance at the prison, where increasing stir of lights

was visible, and resolved that to return should be certain ruin to

ourselves and to him for whom Mistress Ward had risked her life, and

little or no hope in it for her, as it was not possible there should

be time to get the cord and then escape, which with best speed now

could with difficulty be effected. So I turned a deaf ear to Mr.

Watson's pleadings, with an assured conscience she should have wished

no otherwise herself; and by God's mercy we made such way before they

could put out a boat, landing unseen beyond the next bridge, that we

could secretly convey him to the house of a Catholic not far from the

river on the other side, where he doth lie concealed. I promise you,

sweetheart, we did row hard. Albeit I strove very much last year when

I won the boat-match at Richmond, by my troth it was but child's play

to last night's racing. Poor Mr. Watson fainted before we landed, and

neither of us dared venture to stop from pulling for to assist him.

But, God be praised, he is now in a good bed; and I fetched for him at

daybreak a leech I know in the Borough, who hath set his broken limbs;

and to-night if the weather be not foul, when it gets dark, we will

convey him in a boat to a vessel at the river's mouth, which I have

retained for to take us to Calais. But I would Mistress Ward was on

board of it also."

"Oh, Basil," I exclaimed, "if we can discover where she doth lodge, it

would not then be impossible. If we had forecasted this yesterday, she

would be saved. Yet she had perhaps refused to tell us."

"Most like she would," he answered; "but if you do hit by any means

upon her abode to-day, forthwith despatch a trusty messenger unto me

at Mr. Hodgson's, and I promise you, sweetheart, she shall, will she

nill she, if I have to use force for it, be carried away to France,

and stowed with a good madame I know at Calais."

The housekeeper then came in with bread and meat and beer, which my

dear Basil did very gladly partake of, for he had eat nothing since

the day before, and was greatly in want of food. I waited on him,

forestalling housewifely duties, with so great a contentment in this

quiet hour spent in his company that nothing could surpass it. The

fire now burned brightly; and whilst he ate, we talked of the time

when we should be married and live at Euston, so retired from the busy

world without as should be most safe and peaceful in these troublesome

times, even as in that silent house we were for a short time shut out

from the noisy city, the sounds of which reached without disturbing

us. Oh how welcome was that little interval of peace which we then

enjoyed! I ween we were both very tired; and when the good housekeeper

came in for to fetch away his plate he had fallen asleep, with his

head resting on his hands; and I was likewise dozing in a high-backed

chair opposite to him. The noise she made awoke me, but not him, who

slept most soundly. She smiled, and in a motherly manner moved him to

a more comfortable position, and said she would lay a wager on it he

had not been abed at all that night.

{459}

"Well, I'll warrant you to be a good guesser, Mistress Mason," I

answered. "And if you did but know what a hard and a good work he hath

been engaged in, methinks you would never tarry in his praise."

"Ah, Mistress Sherwood," she replied, "I have known Master Basil these

many years; and a more noble, kindly, generous heart never, I ween,

did beat in a man's bosom. He very often came here with his father and

his brother when both were striplings; and Master Hubert was the

sharpest and some said the most well-behaved of the twain. But beshrew

me if I liked not better Master Basil, albeit he was sometimes very

troublesome, but not techey or rude as some boys be. I remember it

well how I laughed one day when these young masters--methinks this

one was no more than five years and the other four--were at play

together in this room, and Basil had a new jerkin on, and colored hose

for the first time. Hubert wore a kirtle, which displeasured him, for

he said folks should take him to be a wench. So he comes to me,

half-crying, and says, 'Why hath Baz that fine new suit and me not the

same?' 'Because, little sir, he is the eldest,' I said. 'Ah,' quoth

the shrewd imp, 'the next time I be born methinketh I will push Baz

aside and be the eldest.' If I should live one hundred years I shall

never forget it, the little urchin looked so resolved and spiteful."

I smiled somewhat sadly, I ween, but with better cheer when she

related how tender a heart Basil had from his infant years toward the

poor, taking off his clothes for to give them to the beggars he met,

and one day, she said, praying very hard Mrs. Wells for to harbor a

strolling man which had complained he had no lodging.

"'Mistress,' quoth he, 'you have many chambers in your house, and he

hath not so much as a bed to lie in tonight;' and would not be

contented till she had charged a servant to get the fellow a lodging.

And me he once abused very roundly in his older years for the same

cause. There was one Jack Morris, an old man which worked sometimes in

Mr. Wells's stable, but did lie at a cottage out of the town. And one

day in winter, when it snowed, Master Basil would have me make this

fellow sleep in the house, because he was sick, he said, and he would

give him his own bed and lie himself on straw in the stable; and went

into so great a passion when I said he should not do so, for that he

was a mean person and could not lie in a gentleman's chamber, that my

young master cries out, 'Have a care. Mistress Mason, I do not come in

the night and shake you out of your own bed, for to give you a taste

of the cold floor, which yet is not, I promise you, so cold as the

street into which you would turn this poor diseased man.' And then he

fell to coaxing of me till I consented for to send a mattress and a

warm rug to the stable for this pestilent old man, who I warrant you

was not so sick as he did assume to be, but had sufficient cunning for

to cozen Master Basil out of his money. Lord bless the lad! I have

seen him run out with his dinner in his hand, if he did but see a

ragged urchin in the streets, and gift him with it; and then would

slug lustily about the house--methinks I do hear him now--

'Dinner, O dinner's a rare good thing

Alike for a beggar, alike for a king.'"

Basil opened then his eyes and stared about him.

"Why, Mistress Mason," he cried, "beshrew me if you are not rehearsing

a rare piece of poesy!--the only one I ever did indite." At the which

speech we all laughed; but our merriment was short; for time had sped

faster than we thought, and Basil said he must needs return to the

Borough to forecast with Mr. Hodgson and Tom Price means to convey Mr.

Watson to the ship, which was out at sea nigh unto the shore, and a

boat must be had to carry them there, and withal such appliances

procured as should ease his broken limbs.

"Is there not danger" I asked, "in moving him so soon?"

{460}

"Yea," he said, "but a less fearful danger than in long tarrying in

this country."

This was too true to be gainsayed; and so thanking the good

housekeeper we left the house, which had seemed for those few hours

like onto a harbor from a stormy sea, wherein both our barks,

shattered by the waves, had refitted in peace.

"Farewell, Basil," I mournfully said; "God knoweth for how long."

"Not for very long," he answered. "In three months I shall have crept

out of my wardship. Then, if it please God, I will return, and so deal

with your good uncle that we shall soon after that be married."

"Yea," I answered, "if so be that my father is then in safety."

He said he meant not otherwise, but that he had great confidence it

should then be so. When at last we parted he went down Holborn Hill

very fast, and I slowly to Ely Place, many times stopping for to catch

one more sight of him in the crowd, which howsoever soon hid him from

me.

When I arrived at home I found Muriel in great affliction, for news

had reached her that Mistress Ward had been apprehended and thrown

into prison. Methinks we had both looked for no other issue than this,

which she had herself most desired; but nevertheless, when the

certainty thereof was confirmed to us, it should almost have seemed as

if we were but ill-prepared for it. The hope I had conceived a short

time before that she should escape in the same vessel with Basil and

Mr. Watson, made me less resigned to this mishap than I should have

been had no means of safety been at hand, and the sword, as it were,

hanging over her head from day to day. The messenger which had brought

this evil news being warranted reliable by a letter from Mr. Hodgson,

I intrusted him with a few lines to Basil, in which I informed him not

to stay his departure on her account, who was now within the walls of

the prison which Mr. Watson had escaped from, and that her best

comfort now should be to know he was beyond reach of his pursuers. The

rest of the day was spent in great heaviness of spirit. Mr. Congleton

sent a servant to Mr. Roper for to request him to come to London, and

wrote likewise to Mr. Lacy for to return to his house in town, and

confer with some Catholics touching Mistress Ward's imprisonment.

Muriel's eyes thanked him, but I ween she had no hope therein and did

resign herself to await the worst tidings. Her mother's unceasing

asking for her, whose plight she dared not so much as hint at in her

presence, did greatly aggravate her sufferings. I have often thought

Muriel did then undergo a martyrdom of the heart as sharp in its kind

as that which Mistress Ward endured in prison, if the reports which

did reach us were true. But more of that anon. The eventful day, which

had opened with so much of fear and sorrow, had yet in store other

haps, which I must now relate.

About four of the clock Hubert came to Ely Place, and found me alone

in the parlor, my fingers busied with some stitching, my thoughts

having wandered far away, where I pictured to myself the mouth of the

river, the receding tide, the little vessel which was to carry Basil

away once more to a foreign land, with its sails flapping in the wind;

and boats passing to and fro, plying on the fair bosom of the broad

river, and not leaving so much as a trace of their passage. And his

boat with its freight more precious than gold--the rescued life bought

at a great price--methought I saw it glide in the dark amidst those

hundred other boats unobserved (so I hoped), unstayed on its course.

Methought that so little bark should be a type of some lives which

carry with them, unwatched, undiscerned, a purpose, which doth freight

them on their way to eternity--somewhat hidden, somewhat close to

their hearts, somewhat engaging their whole strength; and all the

{461} while they seem to be doing the like of what others do; and God

only knoweth how different shall be the end!

"Ah, Hubert," I exclaimed when the door opened, "is it you? Methinks

in these days I see no one come into this house but a fear or a hope

doth seize me. What bringeth you? or hath nothing occurred?"

"Something may occur this day," he answered, "if you do but will it to

be so, Constance."

"What?" I asked eagerly; "what may occur?"

"Your father's deliverance," he said.

"Oh, Hubert," I cried, "it is not possible!"

"Go to!" he said in a resolved manner. "Don your most becoming suit,

and follow my directions in all ways. Lady Ingoldsby, I thank God,

hath not left London, and will be here anon to carry you to Sir

Francis Walsingham's house, where her familiar friend, Lady Sydney,

doth now abide during Sir Philip's absence. You shall thus get speech

with Sir Francis; and if you do behave with diffidency, and beware of

the violence of your nature and exorbitancy of your tongue, checking

needless speeches, and answering his questions with as many words as

courtesy doth command, and as few as civility doth permit, I doubt not

but you may obtain your father's release in the form of a sentence of

banishment; for he is not ill-disposed thereunto, having received

notice that his health is sinking under the hardships of his

confinement, and his strength so impaired that, once beyond seas, he

is not like to adventure himself again in this country."

"Alas!" I cried, "mine eyes had discerned in his shrunken form and

hollow cheeks tokens of such a decay as you speak of; and I pray God

Mr. Secretary may deal mercifully with him before it shall be too

late."

"I'll warrant you," he replied, "that if you do rightly deal with him,

he win sign an order which shall release this very night your father

from prison, and send him safe beyond seas before the week is ended."

"Think you so?" I said, my heart beating with an uncertain kind of

hope mixed with doubting.

"I am assured of it," Hubert confidently replied.

"I must ask my uncle's advice," doubtfully said, "before I go with

Polly."

A contemptuous smile curled his lip. "Yea," he said, "Be directed in

these weighty matters, I do advise you, by your aunt also, and the

saintly Muriel, and twenty hundred others beside, if you list; and the

while this last chance shall escape, and your father be doomed to

death. I have done my part, God knoweth. If he perish, his blood will

not be on my head; but mark my words, if he be not presently released,

he will appear before the council in two days, and the oath be

tendered to him, which you best know if he will take, and his refusal

without fail will send him to the scaffold."

"God defend," I exclaimed, greatly moved, "I should delay to do that

which may yet save him. I will go, Hubert. But I pray you, who are

familiar with Sir Francis, what means should be best for to move him

to compassion? Is there a soft corner in his heart which a woman's

tears can touch? I will kneel to him if needful, yea, kiss his

feet--mind him of his own fair daughter. Lady Sydney, which, if he was

in prison, and my father held his fate in his hands, would doubtless

sue to him with the like ardor, yea, the like agony of spirit, for

mercy. Oh, tell me, Hubert, what to say which shall drive the edge of

pity into his soul."

"Silence will take effect in this case sooner than the most moving

speeches," he answered. "Steel your soul to it, whatever he may say.

Your tears, your eyes, will, I warrant you, plead more mightfully than

your words. He is as obliging to the softer but predominant parts of

the world as he is {462} serviceable to the more severe. To him men's

faces speak as much as their tongues, and their countenances are

indexes of their hearts. Judge if yours, the liveliest piece of

eloquence which ever displayed itself in a fair visage, shall fail to

express that which passionate words, missing their aim, would of a

surety ill convey. And mind you, Mistress Constance, this man is of

extreme ability in the school of policy, and albeit inclined to

recusants with the view of winning them over by means of kindness, yet

an extreme hater of the Pope and Church of Rome, and moreover very

jealous to be considered as such; so if he do intend to show you favor

in this matter, make your reckoning that he will urge you to

conformity with many strenuous exhortations, which, if you remain

silent, no harm shall ensue to yourself or others."

"And not to mine own soul, Hubert?" I mournfully cried. "Methinks my

father and Basil would not counsel silence in such a case."

"God in heaven give me patience!" he exclaimed. "Is it a woman's

calling, I pray you, to preach? When the apostles were dismissed by

the judges, and charged no longer to teach the Christian faith, went

they not forth in silence, restraining their tongues then, albeit not

their actions when once at liberty? Methinks modesty alone should

forbid one of your years from dangerous retorts, which, like a

two-edged sword, wound alike friend and foe."

I had no courage left to withstand the promptings of mine own heart

and his urgency.

"God forgive me," I cried, "if I fail in aught wherein truth or

honesty are concerned. He knoweth I would do right, and yet save my

father's life."

Then falling on my knees, unmindful of his presence, I prayed with an

intense vehemency, which overcame all restraint, that my tongue might

be guided aright when I should be in his presence who under God did

hold my father's life in his hands. But hearing Polly's voice in the

hall, I started up, and noticed Hubert leaning his head on his hand,

seemingly more pitifully moved than was his wont. When she came in, he

met her, and said:

"Lady Ingoldsby, I pray you see that Mistress Constance doth so attire

herself as shall heighten her natural attractions; for, beshrew me, if

grave Mr. Secretary hath not, as well as other men, more pity for a

fair face than a plain one; and albeit hers is always fair, nature

doth nevertheless borrow additional charms from art."

"Tut, tut," quoth Polly. "She is a perfect fright in that hat, and her

ruff hideth all her neck, than which no swan hath a whiter; and I pray

you what a farthingale is that! Methinks it savors of the fashions of

the late queen's reign. Come, Con, cheer up, and let us to thy

chamber. I'll warrant you, Master Rookwood, she will be twice as

winsome when I have exercised my skill on her attire."

So she led me away, and I suffered her to dress mine hair herself and

choose such ornaments as she did deem most becoming. Albeit she

laughed and jested all the while, methinks the kindness of her heart

showed through this apparent gaiety; and when her task was done, and

she kissed my forehead, I threw my arms round her neck and wept.

"Nay, nay!" she cried; "no tears, coz--they do serve but to swell the

eyelids and paint the nose of a reddish hue;" and shaping her own

visage into a counterfeit of mine, she set me laughing against my

will, and drew me by the hand down the stairs and into the parlor.

"How now, sir?" she cried to Hubert "Think you I have indifferently

well performed the task you set me?"

"Most excellently well," he answered, and handed us to her coach,

which was to carry us to Seething Lane. When we were seated in it, she

told {463} me Hubert had disclosed to her the secret of my father's

plight, and that she was more concerned than she could well express at

so great a mishap, but nevertheless entertained a comfortable hope

this day should presently see the end of our troubles. Howsoever, she

did know but half of the trouble I was in, weighty as was the part she

was privy to. Hubert, she told me, had dealt with a marvellous great

zeal and ability in this matter, and proved himself so good a

negotiator that she doubted not Sir Francis himself must needs have

appreciated his ingenuity.

"That young gentleman," she added, "will never spoil his own market by

lack of timely boldness or opportune bashfulness. My Lady Arundel

related to me last night at Mrs. Yates's what passed on Monday at the

banquet-hall at Whitehall. Hath he told you his hap on that occasion?"

"No," I answered. "I pray you, Polly, what befel him there?'

"Well, her majesty was at dinner, and Master Hubert comes there to see

the fashion of the court. His handsome features and well-set shape

attract the queen's notice. With a kind of an affected frown she asks

Lady Arundel what he is. She answers she knows him not. Howsoever, an

inquiry is made from one to another who the youth should be, till at

length it is told the queen he is young Rookwood of Euston, in

Suffolk, and a ward of Sir Henry Stafford's."

"Mistaking him then for Basil?" I said.

Then she: "I think so; but howsoever this inquisition with the eye of

her majesty fixed upon him (as she is wont to fix it, and thereby to

daunt such as she doth make the mark of her gazing), stirred the blood

of our young gentleman, Lady Arundel said, insomuch that a deep color

rose in his pale cheek and straightway left it again; which the queen

observing, she called him unto her, and gave him her hand to kiss,

encouraging him with gracious words and looks; and then diverting her

speech to the lords and ladies, said that she no sooner observed him

than she did note there was in him good blood, and she ventured to

affirm good brains also; and then said to him, 'Fail not to come to

court, sir, and I will bethink myself to do you good.' Now I warrant

you, coz, this piece of a scholar lacked not the wit to use this his

hap in the furtherance of his and your suit to Sir Francis, whom he

adores as his saint, and courts as his Maecenas."

This recital of Polly's worked a tumultuous conflict in my soul; for

verily it strengthened hope touching my father's release; but methinks

any other channel of such hope should have been more welcome. A

jealousy, an unsubstantial fear, an uneasy misdoubt oppressed this

rising hope. I feared for Hubert the dawn of such favor as was shown

to him by her whose regal hand doth hold a magnet which hath

oftentimes caused Catholics to make shipwreck of their souls. And then

truth doth compel me to confess my weakness. Albeit God knoweth I

desired not for my true and noble sweetheart her majesty's gracious

smiles, or a higher fortune than Providence hath by inheritance

bestowed on him, a vain humane feeling worked in me some sort of

displeasure that his younger brother should stand in the queen's

presence as the supposed head of the house of Rookwood, and no more

mention made of him than if he had been outlawed or dead. Not that I

had then reason to lay this error to Hubert's door, for verily naught

in Polly's words did warrant such a suspicion; but my heart was sore,

and my spirits chafed with apprehensions. God forgive me if I then did

unjustly accuse him, and, in the retrospect of this passage in his

life, do suffer subsequent events to cast backward shadows on it,

whereby I may wrong him who did render to me (I write it with a

softened--yea, God is my witness--a truly loving, albeit sorrowing,

heart) a great service in a needful time. Oh, Hubert, Hubert! my heart

acheth for {464} thee. Methinks God will show thee great mercy yet,

but, I fear me, by such means only as I do tremble to think of.

CHAPTER XX.

When we reached Seething Lane, Polly bade me be of good heart, for

that Lady Sydney was a very affable and debonnaire lady, and Sir

Francis a person of toward and gentle manners, and exceedingly polite

to women. We were conducted to a neat parlor, where my Lady Sydney was

awaiting us. A more fair and accomplished lady is not, I ween, to be

found in England or any other country, than this daughter of a great

statesman, and wife at that time of Sir Philip Sydney, as she hath

since been of my Lords Essex and St. Albans. Methinks the matchless

gentleman, noble knight, and sweet writer, her first husband, who did

marry her portionless, not like as is the fashion with so many in our

days carrying his love in his purse, must have needs drawn from the

fair model in his own house the lovely pictures of beauteous women he

did portray in his "Arcadia." She greeted us with so much heartfelt

politeness, and so tempered gay discoursing with sundry marks of

delicate feeling, indicative, albeit not expressive, of a sense of my

then trouble, that, albeit a stranger, methinks her reserved

compassion and ingenious encouragements served to tranquillize my

discomposed mind more than Polly's efforts toward the same end. She

told us Lord Arundel had died that morning; which tidings turned my

thoughts awhile to Lady Surrey, with many cogitations as to the issue

of this event in her regard.

After a short space of time, a step neared the door, and Lady Sydney

smiled and said, "Here is my father." I had two or three times seen

Sir Francis Walsingham in public assemblies, but his features were

nevertheless not familiar to me. Now, after he had saluted Polly and

me, and made inquiry touching our relatives, while he conversed with

her on indifferent topics, I scanned his face with such careful

industry as if in it I should read the issue of my dear father's fate.

Methinks I never beheld so unreadable a countenance, or one which bore

the impress of so refined a penetration, so piercing an

inquisitiveness, so keen a research into others' thoughts, with so

close a concealment of his own. I have since heard what his son-in-law

did write of him, that he impoverished himself by the purchase of dear

intelligence; that, as if master of some invisible spring, all the

secrets of Christendom met in his closet, and he had even a key to

unlock the Pope's cabinet. His mottoes are said to be _video et

taceo_, and that knowledge can never be bought at too high a price.

And verily methinks they were writ in his face, in his quick-turning

eyes, his thin, compressed lips, and his soft but resolved accents,

minding one of steel cased in velvet. 'Tis reported he can read any

letter without breaking the seal. For mine own part, I am of opinion

he can see through parchment, yea, peradventure, through stone walls,

when bent on some discovery. After a few minutes he turned to me with

a gracious smile, and said he was very glad to hear that I was a young

gentlewoman of great prudence, and well disposed in all respects, and

that he doubted not that, if her majesty should by his means show me

any favor, I should requite it with such gratitude as should appear in

all my future conduct.

"God knoweth," I stammered, mine eyes filling with tears, "I would be

grateful to you, sir, if it should please you to move her majesty to

grant my prayer, and to her highness for the doing of it."

"And how would you show such gratitude, fair Mistress Constance?" he

said, smiling in an encouraging manner.

{465}

"By such humble duty," I answered, "as a poor obscure creature can pay

to her betters."

"And I hope, also," he said, "that such dutifulness will involve no

unpleasing effort, no painful constraint on your inclinations; for I

am assured her majesty will never desire from you anything but what

will well accord with your advantage in this world and in the next."

These words caused me some kind of uneasiness; but as they called for

no answer, I took refuge in silence; only methinks my face, which he

did seem carefully to study, betrayed anxiety.

"Providence," Sir Francis then said, "doth oftentimes marvellously

dispose events. What a rare instance of its gracious workings should

be seen in your case, Mistress Constance, if what your heart doth

secretly incline to should become a part of that dutifulness which you

do intend to practice in future!"

Before I had clearly apprehended the sense of his words, Lady Sydney

said to Polly:

"My father hath greatly commended to Sir Philip and me a young

gentleman which I understand. Lady Ingoldsby, to be a friend of yours,

Mr. Hubert Rookwood, of Euston. He says the gracefulness of his

person, his excellent parts, his strong and subtle capacity, do

excellently fit him to learn the discipline and garb of the times and

court."

"Ay," then quoth Sir Francis, "he hath as large a portion of gifts and

endowments as I have ever noticed in one of his age, and I'll warrant

he proves no mere vegetable of the court, springing up at night and

sinking at noon."

Polly did warmly assent to these praises of Hubert, for whom she had

always entertained a great liking; but she merrily said he was not gay

enough for her, which abhorred melancholy as cats do water.

"Oh, fair lady," quoth Sir Francis, "God defend we should be

melancholy; verily 'tis fitting we should be sometimes serious, for

while we laugh all things are serious round about us. The whole

creation is serious in serving God and us. The holy Scriptures bring

to our ears the most serious things in the world. All that are in

heaven and hell are serious. Then how should we be always gay?"

Polly said--for when had she not, I pray you, somewhat to say?--that

certain things in nature had a propensity to gaiety which naught could

quell, and instanced birds and streamlets, which never cease to sing

and babble as long as they do live or flow. And to be serious, she

thought, would kill her. The while this talk was ministered between

them, my Lady Sydney, on a sign from her father, I ween, took my hand

in hers, and offered to show me the garden; for the heat of the room,

she said, was like to give me the headache. Upon which I rose, and

followed her into a court planted with trees, and then on to an alley

of planes strewed with gravel. As we entered it I perceived several

persons walking toward us. When the first thought came into my mind

who should be the tall personage in the centre, of hair and complexion

fair, and of so stately and majestic deportment, I marvel my limbs

gave not way, but my head swam and a mist obscured mine eyes.

Methinks, as one dreaming, I heard Lady Sydney say, "The queen,

Mistress Sherwood; kneel down, and kiss her majesty's hand." Oh, in

the brief moment of time when my lips pressed that thin, white,

jewelled hand, what multiplied thoughts, resentful memories, trembling

awe, and instinctive, homage to royal greatness, met in my soul, and

worked confusion in my brain!

"Ah, mine own good Sydney," I heard her majesty exclaim; "is this the

young gentlewoman your wise father did speak of at Greenwich

yesterday? The daughter of one Sherwood now in prison for popish

contumacy?"

{466}

"Even so," said Lady Sydney; "and your sacred majesty hath it now in

her power to show

"The quality of mercy is not strained--'"

"'But droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath,'"

interrupted the queen, taking the words out of her mouth. "We be not

ignorant of those lines. Will Shakespeare hath it,

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown.'

And i' faith we differ not from him, for verily mercy is our habit and

the propension of our soul; but, by God, the malice and ingratitude of

recusant traitors doth so increase, with manifold dangers to our

person and state, that mercy to them doth turn into treason against

ourselves, injury to religion, and an offence to God. Rise," her

majesty then said to me; and as I stood before her, the color, I ween,

deepening in my cheeks, "Thou hast a fair face, wench," she cried;

"and if I remember aright good Mr. Secretary's words, hast used it to

such purpose that a young gentleman we have of late taken into our

favor is somewhat excessive in his doting on it. Go to, go to; thou

couldst go further and fare worse. We ourselves are averse to

marriage; but if a woman must needs have a husband (and that deep

blushing betokeneth methinks thy bent thereon), she should set her

heart wisely, and govern it discreetly."

"Alas, madam!" I cried, "'tis not of marriage I now do think; but, on

my knees" (and falling again at her feet, I clasped them, with tears),

"of my father's release; I do crave your majesty's mercy."

"Content thee, wench; content thee. Mr. Secretary hath obtained from

us the order for that foolish man's banishment from our realm."

"Oh, madam!" I cried, "God bless you!"

Then my heart did smite me I should with so great vehemency bless her

who, albeit in this nearest instance pitiful to me, did so

relentlessly deal with others; and I bethought me of Mistress Ward,

and the ill-usage she was like to meet with. And her words touching

Hubert, and silence concerning Basil, weighed like lead on my soul;

yet I taxed myself with folly therein, for verily at this time the

less he was thought of the greater should be his safety. Sir Francis

had now approached the queen, and I did hear her commend to him his

garden, which she said was very neat and trim, and the pattern of it

most quaint and fanciful. Polly did also kiss her hand, and Sir Walter

Raleigh and Sir Christopher Hatton, which accompanied her majesty,

whilst she talked with Sir Francis, conversed with Lady Sydney. I ween

my Lord Leicester and many other noblemen and gentlemen were also in

her train, but mine eyes took scant note of what passed before them;

the queen herself was the only object I could contemplate, so

marvellous did it seem I should thus have approached her, and had so

much of her notice as she did bestow on me that day. And here I cannot

choose but marvel how strangely our hearts are made. How favors to

ourselves do alter the current of our feelings; how a near approach to

those which at a distance we do think of with unmitigated enmity, doth

soften even just resentments; and what a singular fascination doth lie

in royalty for to win unto itself a reverence which doth obliterate

memories which in common instances should never lose their sting.

The queen's barge, which had moored at the river-side of Sir Francis's

garden, was soon filled again with the goodly party it had set down;

and as it went up the stream, and I stood gazing on it, methought the

whole scene had been a dream.

Lady Sydney and Polly moved Sir Francis to repeat the assurance her

majesty had given me touching the commutation of my father's

imprisonment into an order of banishment. He satisfied me thereon, and

did promise to procure for me permission to see {467} him once more

before his departure; which interview did take place on the next day;

and when I observed the increased paleness of his face and feebleness

of his gait, the pain of bidding that dear parent farewell equalled

not the joy I felt in the hope that liberty and the care of those good

friends to whose society he would now return, should prolong and cheer

the remaining days of his life. Methinks there was some sadness in him

that the issue he had so resolutely prepared for, and confidently

looked to, should be changed to one so different, and that only by

means of death would he have desired to leave the English mission; but

he meekly bowed his will to that of God, and said in an humble manner

he was not worthy of so exalted an end as he had hoped for, and he

refused not to live if so be he might yet serve God in obscure and

unnoticed ways.

When I returned home after this comfortable, albeit very sad, parting,

I was too weary in body and in mind for to do aught but lie down for a

while on a settle, and revolve in my mind the changes which had taken

place around me. Hubert came for a brief time that evening; and

methinks he had heard from Polly the haps at Seething Lane. He strove

for to move me to speak of the queen, and to tell him the very words

she had uttered. The eager sparkling of his eyes, the ill-repressed

smilingness of his countenance, the manner of his questioning, worked

in me a secret anger, which caused the thanks I gave him for his

successful dealings in my father's behalf to come more coldly from

mine heart than they should otherwise have done, albeit I strove to

frame them in such kind terms as were befitting the great service he

had rendered us. But to disguise my thoughts my tongue at last

refused, and I burst forth:

"But, for all that I do thank you, Hubert, yea, and am for ever

indebted to you, which you will never have reason, from my conduct and

exceedingly kind sisterly love, to doubt: bear with me, I pray you,

when I say (albeit you may think me a very foolish creature) that I

wish you not joy, but rather for your sake do lament, the new favor

you do stand in with the queen. O Hubert, bethink you, ere you set

your foot on the first step of that slippery ladder, court favor, that

no man can serve two masters."

"Marry," he answered in a light manner, "by that same token or text,

papists can then not serve the queen and also the Pope!"

There be nothing which so chilleth or else cutteth the heart as a

jesting retort to a fervent speech.

I hid my face on my arm to hide some tears.

"Constance," he softly said, seeing me moved, "do you weep for me?"

"Yea," I murmured; "God knoweth what these new friendships and this

dangerous favor shall work in you contrary to conscience, truth, and

virtue. Oh! heaven shield Basil's brother should be a favorite of the

queen!"

"Talk not of Basil," he fiercely cried, "I warrant you the day may be

at hand when his fate shall hang on my favor with those who can make

and mar a man, or ruin and mend his fortunes, as they will, by one

stroke of a pen!"

"Yea," I replied; "I doubt not his fortune is at their mercy. His

soul, God be praised, their arts cannot reach."

"Constance," he then said, fixedly gazing on me, "if you only love me,

there is no ambition too noble, no heights of virtue too exalted, no

sacrifices too entire, but I will aim at, aspire to, resolve on, at

your bidding."

"Love _you_!" I said, raising mine eyes to his, somewhat scornfully I

fear, albeit not meaning it, if I judge by his sudden passion.

"God defend," he cried, "I do not arrive at hating you with as great

fervency as I have, yea, as even yet I do love you! O Constance, if I

should one day be what I do yet abhor to think {468} of, the guilt

thereof shall lie with you if there be justice on Earth or in heaven!"

I shook my head, and laying my hand on his, sadly answered:

"I choose not to bandy words with you, Hubert, or charge you with

what, if I spoke the truth, would be too keen and resentful reproaches

for your unbrotherly manner of dealing with Basil and me; for it would

ill become the close of this day, on which I do owe you, under God, my

dear father's life, to upbraid where I would fain only from my heart

yield thanks. I pray you, let us part in peace. My strength is

well-nigh spent and my head acheth sorely."

He knelt down by my side, and whispered, "One word more before I go.

You do hold in your keeping Basil's fate and mine. I will not forsake

the hope that alone keepeth me from desperation. Hush! say not the

word which would change me from a friend to a foe, from a Catholic to

an apostate, from a man to a fiend. I have gone well-nigh into the

gate of hell; a slender thread yet holds me back; snap it not in

twain."

I spoke not, for verily my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and a

fainting sensation of a sudden came over me. I felt his lips pressed

on my hand, and then he left me; and that night I felt very ill, and

for nigh unto a fortnight could by no means leave my bed.

One morning, being somewhat easier, I sat up in a high-backed chair,

in what had once been our school-room; and when Muriel, who had been a

most diligent nurse to me in that sickness, came to visit me, I

pressed her for to tell me truly if she had heard aught of Basil or of

Mistress Ward; for every day when I had questioned her thereon she had

denied all knowledge of their haps, which now began to work in me a

suspicion she did conceal from me some misfortune, which doubt, I told

her, was more grievous to me than to be informed what had befallen

them; and so constrained her to admit that, albeit of Basil she had in

truth no tidings, which she judged to be favorable to our hopes, of

Mistress Ward she had heard, in the first instance, a report, eight or

ten days before, that she had been hung up by the hands and cruelly

scourged; which torments she was said by the jailors, which Mr. Lacy

had spoken with, to have borne with exceeding great courage, saying

they were the preludes of martyrdom, with which, by the grace of God,

she hoped she should be honored. Then Mr. Roper and Mr. Wells, who was

now returned to London, had brought tidings the evening before that on

the preceding day she had been brought to the bar, where, being asked

by the judges if she was guilty of that treachery to the queen and to

the laws of the realm of furnishing the means by which a traitor of a

priest had escaped from justice, she answered with a cheerful

countenance in the affirmative; and that she never in her life had

done anything of which she less repented than of the delivering that

innocent lamb from the wolves which should have devoured him.

"Oh, Muriel," I cried, "cannot you see her dear resolved face and the

lighting up of her eyes, and the quick fashion of her speech, when she

said this?"

"I do picture her to myself," Muriel answered in a low voice, "at all

hours of the day, and marvel at mine own quietness therein. But I

doubt not her prayers do win for me the grace of resignation. They

sought to oblige her to confess where Mr. Watson was, but in vain; and

therefore they proceeded to pronounce sentence upon her. But withal

telling her that the queen was merciful, and that if she would ask

pardon of her majesty, and would promise to go to church, she should

be set at liberty; otherwise that she must look for nothing but

certain death."

I drew a deep breath then, and said, "The issue is, then, not

doubtful."

"She answered," Muriel said, "that {469} as to the queen, she had

never offended her majesty; that as to what she had done in favoring

Mr. Watson's escape, she believed the queen herself, if she had the

bowels of a woman, would have done as mach if she had known the

ill-treatment he underwent; and as to going to church, she had for

many years been convinced that it was not lawful for her so to do, and

that she found no reason now for to change her mind, and would not act

against her conscience; and therefore they might proceed to the

execution of the sentence pronounced against her; for that death for

such a cause would be very welcome, and that she was willing to lay

down not one life only, but many, if she had them, rather than act

against her religion."

"And she is then condemned to death without any hope?" I said.

Muriel remained silent.

"Oh, Muriel!" I cried; "it is not done? it is not over?"

She wiped one tear that trickled down her cheek, and said, "Yesterday

she suffered at Tyburn with a wonderful constancy and alacrity."

I hid my face in my hands; for the sight of the familiar room, of the

chair in which she was sitting what time she took leave of us, of a

little picture pinned to the wall, which she had gifted me with, moved

me too much. But when I closed mine eyes, there arose remembrances of

my journeying with her; of my foolish speeches touching robbers; of

her motherly reproofs of my so great confidence, and comfort in her

guidance; and I was fain to seek comfort from her who should have

needed it rather than me, but who indeed had it straight from heaven,

and thereby could impart some share of it to others.

"Muriel," I said, resting my tired head on her bosom, "the day you say

she suffered, I now mind me, I was most ill, and you tended me as

cheerfully as if you had no grief."

"Oh, 'tis no common grief," she answered, "no casting-down sorrow, her

end doth cause me; rather some kind of holy jealousy, some over-eager

pining to follow her."

A waiting-woman then came in, and I saw her give a letter to Muriel,

who I noticed did strive to hide it from me. But I detected it in her

hand, and cried, "'Tis from Basil; how hath it come?" and took it from

her; but trembling so much, my fingers could scarce untie the strings,

for I was yet very unwell from my sickness.

"Mr. Hodgson hath sent it," quoth Muriel; "God yield it be good news!"

Then my eyes fell on the loved writing, and read what doth follow:

"DEAR HEART AND SWEET WIFE

soon to be--God be praised, we are now safe in port at Calais, but

have not lacked dangers in our voyage. But all is well, I ween, that

doth end well; and I do begin my letter with the tokens of that good

ending that mine own sweet love should have no fears, only much

thankfulness to God, whilst she doth read of the perils we have

escaped. We carried Mr. Watson--Tom and I and two others--into the

boat, on the evening of the day when I last saw you, and made for the

Dutch vessel out at sea near the river^s mouth. The light was waning,

but not yet so far gone but that objects were discernible; and we had

not rowed a very long time before we heard a splashing of oars behind

us, and turning round what should we see but one of the Queen's

barges, and by the floating pennon at the stem discerned her majesty

to be on board! We hastily turned our boat, and I my back toward the

bank; threw a cloak over Mr. Watson, who, by reason of his broken

limbs, was lying on a mattress at the bottom of it; and Tom and the

others feigned to be fishing. When the royal barge passed by, some one

did shout, railing at us for that we did fish in the dark, and a storm

coming up the river; and verily it did of a sudden begin to blow very

strong. Sundry small craft were coming from the sea into the river for

shelter; and as they did meet as, expressed marvel we {470} should

adventure forth, jeering us for our thinking to catch fish and a storm

menacing. None of us, albeit good rowers, were much skilled in the

mariner's art; but we commended ourselves to God and went onward all

the night; and when the morning was breaking, to our unspeakable

comfort, we discovered the Dutch vessel but a few strokes distant at

anchor, when, as we bethought ourselves nearly in safety, a huge

rolling wave (for now the weather had waxed exceedingly rough) upset

our boat."

"O Muriel," I exclaimed, "that night I tossed about in a high fever,

and saw Basil come dripping wet at the foot of my bed: I warrant you

'twas second sight."

"Read on, read on," Muriel said; "nor delude yourself touching

visions."

"Tom, the other boatman, and I, being good swimmers, soon regained the

boat, the which floated keel upwards, whereon we climbed, but

well-nigh demented were we to find Mr. Watson could nowhere be seen.

In desperation I plunged again into the sea, swimming at hazard, with

difficulty buffeting the waves; when nearly spent I descried the good

priest, and seized him in a most unmannerly fashion by the collar, and

dragging him along, made shift to regain the floating keel; and Tom,

climbing to the top, waved high his kerchief, hoping to be seen by the

Dutchman, who by good hap did espy our signal. Soon had we the joy to

see a boat lowered and advance toward us. With much difficulty it

neared us, by reason of the fury of the waves; but, God be thanked, it

did at last reach us; and Mr. Watson, insensible and motionless, was

hoisted therein, and soon in safety conveyed on board the vessel. I

much feared for his life; for, I pray you, was such a cold, long bath,

succeeding to a painful exposed night, meet medicine for broken limbs,

and the fever which doth accompany such hurts? I wot not; but yet, God

be praised, he is now in the hospital of a monastery in this town,

well tended and cared for, and the leeches do assure me like to do

well. Thou mayest think, sweetheart, that after seeing him safely

stowed in that good lodgment, I waited not for to change my clothes or

break my fast, before I went to the church; and on my knees blessed

the Almighty for his protection, and hung a thank-offering on to our

Lady's image; for I warrant you, when I was fishing for Mr. Watson in

that raging sea, I missed not to put up Hail Marys as fast as I could

think them, for beshrew me if I had breath to spare for to utter. I do

now pen this letter at my good friend Mr. Wells's brother's, and Tom

will take it with him to London, and Mr. Hodgson convey it to thee.

Thy affectionate and humble obedient (albeit intending to lord it over

thee some coming day) servant and lover, BASIL ROOKWOOD.

"Oh, how the days do creep till I be out of my wardship! Methinks I do

feel somewhat like Mrs. Helen Ingoldsby, who doth hate patience, she

saith, by reason that it doth always keep her waiting. I would not be

patient, sweet one, I fear, if impatience would carry me quicker to

thy dear side."

"Well," said Muriel, sweetly smiling when I had finished reading this

comfortable letter, "the twain which we have accompanied this past

fortnight with our thoughts and prayers have both, God be praised,

escaped from a raging sea into a safe harbor, albeit not of the same

sort--the one earthly, the other heavenly. Oh, but I am very glad,

dear Constance, thou art spared a greater trial than hath yet touched

thee!" and so pure a joy beamed in her eyes, that methought no one

more truly fulfilled that bidding, "to rejoice with such as rejoice,

as well as to weep with such as weep."

This letter of my dear Basil hastened my recovery; and three days

later, having received an invitation thereunto, I went to visit the

Countess of Surrey, now also of Arundel, at Arundel House. The trouble

she was in by {471} reason of her grandfather's death, and of my Lady

Lumley's, who had preceded her father to the grave, exceeded anything

she had yet endured. The earl her husband continued the same hard

usage toward her, and never so much as came to visit her at that time

of her affliction, but remained in Norfolk, attending to his sports of

hunting and the like. Howsoever, as he had satisfied her uncles, Mr.

Francis and Mr. Leonard Dacre, Mr. James Labourn, and also Lord

Montague, and his own sister Lady Margaret Sackville, and likewise

Lord Thomas and Lord William Howard, his brothers, that he put not in

any doubt, albeit words to that effect had once escaped him, the

validity of his marriage, she, with great wisdom and patience, and

prudence very commendable in one of her years, being destitute of any

fitting place to dwell in, resolved to return to his house in London.

At the which at first he seemed not a little displeased, but yet took

no measures for to drive her from it. And in the ordering of the

household and care of his property manifested the same zeal, and

obtained the same good results, as she had procured whilst she lived

at Kenninghall. Methought she had waxed older by some years, not

weeks, since I had seen her, so staid and composed had become the

fashion of her speech and of her carriage. She conversed with me on

mine own troubles and comforts, and the various and opposite haps

which had befallen me; which I told her served to strengthen in me my

early thinking, that sorrows are oftentimes so intermixed with joys

that our lives do more resemble variable April days than the cloudless

skies of June, or the dark climate of winter.

Whilst we did thus discourse, mine eyes fell on a quaint piece of work

in silk and silver, which was lying on a table, as if lately unfolded.

Lady Arundel smiled in a somewhat sad fashion, and said:

"I warrant thou art curious, Constance, to examine that piece of

embroidery; and verily as regards the hands which hath worked it, and

the kind intent with which it was wrought, a more notable one should

not easily be found. Look at it, and see if thou canst read the

ingenious meaning of it."

This was the design therein executed with exceeding great neatness and

beauty: there was a tree framed, whereon two turtle-doves sat, on

either side one, with this difference, that by that on the right hand

there were two or three green leaves remaining, by the other none at

all--the tree on that side being wholly bare. Over the top of the tree

were these words, wrought in silver: "Amoris sorte pares." At the

bottom of the tree, on the side where the first turtle-dove did sit by

the green leaves, these words were also embroidered: "Haec ademptum,"

with an anchor under them. On the other side, under the other dove,

were these words, in like manner wrought: "Illa peremptum," with

pieces of broken board underneath.

"See you what this doth mean?" the countess asked.

"Nay," I answered; "my wit is herein at fault."

"You will," she said, "when you know whence this gift comes to me.

Methought, save by a few near to me in blood, or by marriage

connected, and one or two friends--thou, my Constance, being the

chiefest--I was unknown to all the world; but a sad royal heart having

had notice, in the midst of its own sore griefs, how the earl my

husband doth, through evil counsel, absent and estrange himself from

me, partly to comfort, and partly to show her love to one she once

thought should be her daughter-in-law, for a token thereof she sent me

this gift, contrived by her own thinking, and wrought with her own

hands. Those two doves do represent herself and me. On my side an

anchor and a few green leaves (symbols of hope), show I may yet

flourish, because my lord is alive; though, by reason of his absence

and unkindness, I mourn as a {472} lone turtle-dove. But the bare

boughs and broken boards on her side signify that her hopes are wholly

wrecked by the death of the duke, for whom she doth mourn without hope

of comfort or redress."

The pathetic manner in which Lady Arundel made this speech moved me

almost to tears.

"If Philip," she said, "doth visit me again at any time, I will hang

up this ingenious conceit where he should see it. Methinks it will

recall to him the past, and move him to show me kindness. Help me,

Constance," she said after a pause, "for to compose such an answer as

my needle can express, which shall convey to this royal prisoner both

thanks, and somewhat of hope also, albeit not of the sort she doth

disclaim.'"

I mused for a while, and then with a pencil drew a pattern of a like

tree to that of the Scottish queen's design; and the dove which did

typify the Countess of Arundel I did represent fastened to the branch,

whereon she sat and mourned, by many strings wound round her heart,

and tied to the anchor of an earthly hope, whereas the one which was

the symbol of the forlorn royal captive did spread her wings toward

the sky, unfettered by the shattered relics strewn at her feet. Lady

Arundel put her arm round my neck, and said she liked well this

design; and bade me for to pray for her, that the invisible strings,

which verily did restrain in her heavenward motions, should not always

keep her from soaring thither where only true joys are to be found.

During some succeeding weeks I often visited her, and we wrought

together at the same frame in the working of this design, which she

had set on hand by a cunning artificer from the rough pattern I had

drawn. Much talk the while was ministered between us touching

religion, which did more and more engage her thoughts; Mr. Bayley, a

Catholic gentleman who belonged to the earl her husband, and whom she

did at that time employ to carry relief to sick and poor persons,

helping her greatly therein, being well instructed himself, and

haunting such priests as did reside secretly in London at that time.

About the period when Basil was expected to return, my health was

again much affected, not so sharply as before, but a weakness and

fading of strength did show the effects of such sufferings as I had

endured. Hubert's behavior did tend at that time for to keep me in

great uneasiness. When he came to the house, albeit he spake but

seldom to me, if we ever were alone he gave sundry hints of a

persistent hope and a possible desperation, mingled with vague

threats, which disturbed me more than can be thought of. Methinks

Kate, Polly, and Muriel held council touching my health; and thence

arose a very welcome proposal, from my Lady Tregony, that I should

visit her at her seat in Norfolk, close on the borders of Suffolk,

whither she had retired since Thomas Sherwood's death. Polly, who had

a good head and a good heart albeit too light a mind, forecasted the

comfort it should be to Basil and me, when he returned, to be so near

neighbors until we were married (which could not be before some months

after he came of age), that we could meet every day; Lady Tregony's

seat being only three miles distant from Euston. They wrote to him

thereon; and when his answer came, the joy he expressed was such that

nothing could be greater. And on a fair day in the spring, when the

blossoms of the pear and apple-trees were showing on the bare

branches, even as my hopes of coming joys did bud afresh after long

pangs of separation, I rode from London, by slow journeys, to Banham

Hall, and amidst the sweet silence of rural scenes, quiet fields, and

a small but convenient house, where I was greeted with maternal

kindness by one in whom age retained the warmth of heart of youth, I

did regain so much strength and good looks, that when, one day, a

{473} horsemen, when I least thought of it, rode to the door, and I

turned white and red in turns, speechless with delight, perceiving it

to be Basil, he took me by both hands, looked into my face and cried:

"Hang the leeches! Suffolk air was all thou didst need, for all they

did so fright me."

"Norfolk air, I pray you," quoth my Lady Tregony, smiling.

"Nay, nay," quoth Basil. "It

doth blow over the border from Suffolk."

"Happiness, leastways, bloweth thence," I whispered.

"Yea," he answered; for he was not one for to make long speeches.

But, ah me! the sight of him was a cure to all mine ailments.

CHAPTER XXI.

It is not to be credited with how great an admixture of pleasure and

pain I do set myself to my daily task of writing, for the thought of

those spring and summer months spent in Lady Tregony's house doth stir

up old feelings, the sweetness of which hath yet some bitterness in

it, which I would fain separate from the memories of that happy time.

Basil had taken up his abode at Euston, whither I so often went and

whence he so often came, that methinks we could both have told (for

mine own part I can yet do it, even after the lapse of so many years)

the shape of each tree, the rising of each bank, the every winding of

the fair river Ouse betwixt one house and the other. Yea, when I now

sit down on the shore, gazing on the far-off sea, bethinking myself it

doth break on the coast of England, I sometimes newly draw on memory's

tablet that old large house, the biggest in all Suffolk, albeit homely

in its exterior and interior plainness, which sitteth in a green

hollow between two graceful swelling hills. Its opposite meadows

starred in the spring-tide with so many daisies and buttercups that

the grass scantily showeth amidst these gay intruders; the ascending

walk, a mile in length, with four rows of ash-trees on each side, the

tender green of which in those early April days mocked the sober tints

of the darksome tufts of fir; and the noble deer underneath the old

oaks, carrying in a stately manner their horned heads, and darting

along the glades with so swift a course that the eye could scarce

follow them. But mostly the little wooden bridge where, when Basil did

fish, I was wont to sit and watch the sport, I said, but verily him,

of whose sight I was somewhat covetous after his long absence. And I

mind me that one day when we were thus seated, he on the margin of the

stream and I leaning against the bridge, we held an argument touching

country diversions, which began in this wise:

"Methinks," I said, "of all disports fishing hath this advantage, that

if one faileth in the success he looketh for, he hath at least a

wholesome walk, a sweet air, a fragrant savor of the mead flowers. He

seeth the young swans, herons, ducks, and many other fowls with their

broods, which is surely better than the noise of hounds, the blast of

horns, and the cries the hunters make. And if it be in part used for

the increasing of the body's health and the solace of the mind, it can

also be advantageously employed for the health of the soul, for it is

not needful in this diversion to have a great many persons with you,

and this solitude doth favor thought and the serving of God by

sometimes repeating devout prayers."

To this Basil replied: "That as there be many men, there be also many

minds; and, for his part, when the woods and fields and skies seemed

in all one loud cry and confusion with the earning of the hounds, the

gallopping of the horses, the hallowing of the huntsmen, and the

excellent echo resounding from the hills and valleys, he did not think

there could be a {474} more delectable pastime or a more tuneable

sound by any degree than this, and specially in that place which is

formed so meet for the purpose. And if he should wish anything, it

would be that it had been the time of year for it, and for me to ride

by his side on a sweet misty mornings to hear this goodly music and to

be recreated with this excellent diversion. And for the matter of

prayers," he added, smiling, "I warrant thee, sweet preacher, that as

wholesome cogitations touching Almighty God and his goodness, and

brief inward thanking of him for good limbs and an easy heart, have

come into my mind on a horse's back with a brave westerly wind blowing

about my head, as in the quiet sitting by a stream listing to the

fowls singing."

"Oh, but Basil," I rejoined, "there are more virtues to be practised

by an angler than by a hunter."

"How prove you that, sweetheart?" he asked.

Then I: "Well, he must be of a well-settled and constant belief to

enjoy the benefit of his expectation. He must be full of love to his

neighbor, that he neither give offence in any particular, nor be

guilty of any general destruction; then he must be exceeding patient,

not chafing in losing the prey when it is almost in hand, or in

breaking his tools, but with pleased sufferance, as I have witnessed

in thyself, amend errors and think mischances instructions to better

carefulness. He must be also full of humble thoughts, not disdaining

to kneel, lie down, or wet his fingers when occasion commands. Then

must he be prudent, apprehending the reasons why the fish will not

bite; and of a thankful nature, showing a large gratefulness for the

least satisfaction."

"Tut, tut," Basil replied, laughing; "thinkest thou no patience be

needful when the dogs do lose the scent, or your horse refuseth to

take a gate; no prudence to forecast which way to turn when the issue

be doubtful; no humility to brook a fall with twenty fellows passing

by a-jeering of you; no thankfulness your head be not broken; no love

of your neighbor for to abstain in the heat of the chase from treading

down his corn, or for to make amends when it be done? Go to, go to,

sweetheart; thou art a dextrous pleader, but hast failed to prove thy

point. Methinks there doth exist greater temptations for to swear or

to quarrel in hunting than in fishing, and, if resisted, more

excellent virtues then observed. One day last year, when I was in

Cheshire, Sir Peter Lee of Lime did invite me to hunt the stag, and

there being a great stag in chase and many gentlemen hot in the

pursuit, the stag took soil, and divers, whereof I was one, alighted

and stood with sword drawn to have a cut at him."

"Oh, the poor stag!" I cried; "I do always sorely grieve for him."

"Well," he continued, "the stags there be wonderfully fierce and

dangerous, which made us youths more eager to be at him. But he

escaped us all; and it was my misfortune to be hindered in my coming

near him, the way being slippery, by a fall which gave occasion to

some which did not know me to speak as if I had failed for fear; which

being told me, I followed the gentleman who first spoke it, intending

for to pick a quarrel with him, and, peradventure, measure my sword

with his, so be his denial and repentance did not appear. But, I thank

God, afore I reached him my purpose had changed, and in its stead I

turned back to pursue the stag, and happened to be the only horseman

in when the dogs set him up at bay; and approaching near him, he broke

through the dogs and ran at me, and took my horse's side with his

horns. Then I quitted my horse, and of a sudden getting behind him,

got on his back and cut his throat with my sword."

"Alack!" I cried, "I do mislike these bloody pastimes, and love not to

think of the violent death of any living creature."

{475}

"Well, dear heart," he answered, "I will not make thee sad again by

the mention of the killing of so much as a rat, if it displeaseth

thee. But truly I mislike not to think of that day, for I warrant

thee, in turning back from the pursuit of that injurious gentleman,

somewhat more of virtue did exist than it hath been my hap often to

practice. For, look you, sweet one, to some it doth cause no pain to

forgive an injury which toucheth not their honor, or to plunge into

the sea to fish out a drowning man; but to be styled a coward, and yet

to act as a Christian man should do, not seeking for to be revenged,

why, methinks, there should be a little merit in it."

"Yea," I said, "much in every way; but truly, sir, if your thinking is

just that easy virtue is little or no virtue, I shall be the least

virtuous wife in the world."

Upon this he laughed so loud that I told him he would fright all the

fishes away.

"I' faith, let them go if they list," he cried, and cast away his rod.

Then coming to where I was sitting, he invited me to walk with him

alongside the stream, and then asked me for to explain my last speech.

"Why, Basil," I said, "what, I pray you, should be the duty of a

virtuous wife but to love her husband?"

So then he, catching my meaning, smiled and replied,

"If that duty shall prove easy to thy affectionate heart, I doubt not

but others will arise which shall call for the exercise of more

difficult virtue."

When we came to a sweet nook, where the shade made it too dark for

grass to grow, and only moss yielded a soil carpet for the feet, we

sat down on a shelving slope of broken stones, and I exclaimed,

"Oh, Basil, methinks we shall be too happy in this fair place; and I

do tax myself presently with hardness of heart, that in thy company,

and the forecasting of a blissful time to come, I lose the sense of

recent sorrows."

"God doth yield thee this comfort," he answered, "for to refresh thy

body and strengthen thy soul, which have both been verily sorely

afflicted of late. I ween he doth send us breathing-times with this

merciful intent."

By such discourses as these we entertained ourselves at sundry times;

but some of the sweetest hours we spent were occupied in planning the

future manner of our lives, the good we should strive to do amongst

our poor neighbors, and the sweet exercise of Catholic religion we

should observe.

Foreseeing the frequent concealing of priests in his house, Basil sent

one day for a young carpenter, one Master Owen, who hath since been so

noted for the contriving of hiding-places in all the recusants' houses

in England; and verily what I noticed in him during the days he was at

work at Euston did agree with the great repute of sanctity he hath

since obtained. His so small stature, his trick of silence, his

exceeding recollected and composed manner filled me with admiration;

and Basil told me nothing would serve him, the morning he arrived,

when he found a priest was in the house, but to go to shrift and holy

communion, which was his practice, before ever he set to work at his

good business. I took much pleasure in watching his progress. He

scooped out a cell in the walls of the gallery, contriving a door such

as I remembered at Sherwood Hall, which none could see to open unless

they did know of the spring. All the time he was laboring thereat, I

could discern him to be praying; and when he wot not any to be near

him, sang hymns in a loud and exceeding sweet voice. I have never

observed in any one a more religious behavior than in this youth, who,

by his subtle and ingenious art, hath saved the lives of many priests,

and procured mass to be said in houses where none should have durst

for to say or hear it if a refuge of this kind did not exist, wherein

a man may lie ensconced for years, and none can find him, if he come

not forth himself.

{476}

When he was gone, other sort of workmen were called in, for to make

more habitable and convenient a portion of this large house. For in

this the entire consenting of our minds did appear, that neither of us

desired for to spend money on showy improvements, or to inhabit ten

chambers when five should suffice. What one proposed, the other always

liked well; and if in tastes we did sometimes differ, yet no

disagreement ensued. For, albeit Basil cared not as much as I did for

the good ordering of the library, his indulgent kindness did

nevertheless incline him to favor me with a promise that one hundred

fair, commendable books should be added to those his good father had

collected. He said that Hubert should aid us to choose these goodly

volumes, holy treatises, and histories in French and English, if it

liked me, and poetry also. One pleasant chamber he did laughingly

appoint for to be the scholar's room, in the which he should never so

much as show his face, but Hubert and I read and write, if we listed,

our very heads off. The ancient chapel was now a hall; and, save some

carving on the walls which could not be recovered, no traces did

remain of its old use. But at the top-most part of the house, at the

head of a narrow staircase, was a chamber wherein mass was sometimes

said; and since Basil's return, he had procured that each Saturday a

priest should come and spend the night with him, for the convenience

of all the neighboring Catholics who resorted there for to go to their

duty. Lady Tregony and her household--which were mostly Catholic, but

had not the same commodities in her house, where to conceal any one

was more hard, for that it stood almost in the village of Fakenham,

and all comers and goers proved visible to the inhabitants--did repair

on Sundays, at break of day, to Euston. How sweet were those rides in

the fair morning light, the dew bespangling every herb and tree, and

the wild flowers filling the air with their fresh fragrance! The pale

primroses, the azure harebell, the wood-anemone, and the dark-blue

hyacinth--what dainty nosegays they furnished us with for our Blessed

Lady's altar! of which the fairest image I ever beheld stood in the

little secret chapel at Euston. Basil did much affection this image of

Blessed Mary; for as far back as he could remember he had been used to

say his prayers before it; and when his mother died, he being only

seven years of age, he knelt before this so lively representation of

God's Mother, beseeching of her to be a mother to him also; which

prayer methinks verily did take effect, his life having been marked by

singular tokens of her maternal care.

In the Holy Week, which fell that year in the second week of April, he

procured the aid of three priests, and had all the ceremonies

performed which do appertain to that sacred season. On Wednesday,

toward evening began _Tenebrae_, with the mysterious candlestick of

fifteen lights, fourteen of them representing, by the extinguishing of

them, the disciples which forsook Christ; the fifteenth on the top,

which was not put out, his dear Mother, who from the crib to the

cross, was not severed from him. On Thursday we decked the sepulchre

wherein the Blessed Sacrament reposed with flowers and all such jewels

as we possessed, and namely with a very fair diamond cross which Basil

had gifted me with, and reverently attended it day and night. "God

defend," I said to Basil, when the sepulchre was removed, "I should

retain for vain uses what was lent to our Lord yester eve!" and

straightway hung on the cross to our Lady's neck. On Friday we all

crept to the crucifix, and kissing, bathed it with our tears. On

Saturday every fire was extinguished in the house, and kindled again

with hallowed fire. Then ensued the benediction of the paschal candle,

and the rest of the divine ceremonies, till mass. At mass, as soon as

the priest pronounced "Gloria in excelsis," a cloth, contrived by Lady

Tregony and me, {477} and which veiled the altar, made resplendent

with lights and flowers, was suddenly snatched away, and many little

bells we had prepared for that purpose rung, in imitation of what was

done in England in Catholic times, and now in foreign countries. On

Easter Sunday, after mass, a benediction was given to divers sorts of

meat, and, in remembrance of the Lamb sacrificed two days before, a

great proportion of lamb. Nigh one hundred recusants had repaired to

Euston that day for their paschal communion. Basil did invite them all

to break Lent's neck with us, in honor of Christ's joyful

resurrection; and many blessings were showered that day, I ween, on

Master Rookwood, and for his sake, I ween, on Mistress Sherwood also.

The sun did shine that Easter morning with more than usual brightness.

The common people do say it danceth for joy at this glorious tide. For

my part, methought it had a rare youthful brilliancy, more cheering

than hot, more lightsome than dazzling. All nature seemed to rejoice

that Christ was risen; and pastoral art had devised arches of flowers

and gay wreaths hanging from pole to pole and gladdening every

thicket.

Verily, if the sun danced in the sky, my poor heart danced in my

bosom. At Basil's wishing, anticipating future duties, I went to the

kitchen for to order the tansy-cakes which were to be prizes at the

hand-ball playing on the next day. Like a foolish creature, I was

ready to smile at every jest, howsoever trifling; and when Basil put

in his head at the door and cried, "Prithee, let each one that eateth

of tansy-cake to-morrow, which signifieth bitter herbs, take also of

bacon, to show he is no Jew," the wenches and I did laugh till the

tears ran down our cheeks. Ah me! when the heart doth overflow with

joy 'tis marvellous how the least word maketh merriment.

One day late in April I rode with Basil for to see some hawking, which

verily is a pleasure for high and mounting spirits; howsoever, I wore

not the dress which the ladies in this country do use on such

occasions, for I have always thought it an unbecoming thing for women

to array themselves in male attire, or ride in fashion like a man, and

Basil is of my thinking thereon. It was a dear, calm, sun-shiny

evening, about an hour before the sun doth usually mask himself, that

we went to the river. There we dismounted and, for the first time, I

did behold this noble pastime. For is it not rare to consider how a

wild bird should be so brought to hand and so well managed as to make

us such pleasure in the air; but most of all to forego her native

liberty and feeding, and return to her servitude and diet? And what a

lesson do they read to us when our wanton wills and thoughts take no

heed of reason and conscience's voices luring us back to duty's perch.

When we had stood a brief time watching for a mallard, Basil perceived

one and whistled off his falcon. She flew from him as if she would

never have turned her head again, yet upon a shout came in. Then by

degrees, little by little, flying about and about, she mounted so high

as if she had made the moon the place of her flight, but presently

came down like a stone at the sound of his lure. I waxed very eager in

the noticing of these haps, and was well content to be an eye-witness

of this sport. Methought it should be a very pleasant thing to be

Basil's companion in it, and wear a dainty glove and a gentle tasel on

my fist which should never cast off but at my bidding, and when I let

it fly would return at my call. And this thought minded me of a

faithful love never diverted from its resting-place save by heavenward

aspirations alternating betwixt earthly duties and ghostly soarings.

But oh, what a tragedy was enacted in the air when Basil, having

detected by a little white feather in its tail a cock in a brake, cast

off a tasel gentle, who never ceased his circular motion till he had

recovered his place. Then suddenly {478} upon the flushing of the cock

he came down, and missing of it in that down-come, lo what working

there was on both sides! The cock mounting as if he would have pierced

the skies; the hawk flying a contrary way until he had made the wind

his friend; what speed the cock made to save himself! What hasty

pursuit the hawk made of the fugitive! after long flying killing of

it, but alack in killing of it killing himself!

"Ah, a fatal ending to a fatal strife!" exclaimed a known voice close

unto mine ear, a melodious one, albeit now harsh to my hearing. Mine

eyes were dazzled with gazing upward, and I confusedly discerned two

gentlemen standing near me, one of which I knew to be Hubert. I gave

him my hand, and then Basil turning round and beholding him and his

companion, came up to them with a joyful greeting:

"Oh, Sir Henry," he exclaimed, "I be truly glad to see you; and you,

Hubert, what a welcome surprise is this!"

Then he introduced me to Sir Henry Jemingham; for he it was who,

bowing in a courteous fashion, addressed to me such compliments as

gentlemen are wont to pay to ladies at the outset of their

acquaintanceship.

These visitors had left their horses a few paces off, and then Sir

Henry explained that Hubert had been abiding with him at his seat for

a few days, and that certain law-business in which Basil was concerned

as well as his brother, and himself also, as having been for one year

his guardian, did necessitate a meeting wherein these matters should

be brought to a close.

"So," quoth he then, "Master Basil, I proposed we should invade your

solitude in place of withdrawing you from it, which methought of the

two evils should be the least, seeing what attractions do detain you

at Euston at this time."

I foolishly dared not look at Hubert when Sir Henry made this speech,

and Basil with hearty cheer thanked him for his obliging conduct and

the great honor he did him for to visit him in this amicable manner.

Then he craved his permission for to accompany me to Lady Tregony's

house, trusting, he said, to Hubert to conduct him to Euston, and to

perform there all hospitable duties during the short time he should be

absent himself.

"Nay, nay," quoth Sir Henry, "but, with your license, Master Basil, we

will ride with you and this lady to Banham Hall. Methinks, seeing you

are such near neighbors, that Mistress Sherwood lacketh not

opportunities to enjoy your company, and that you should not deprive

me of the pleasure of a short conversation with her whilst Hubert and

you entertain yourselves for the nonce in the best way you can."

Basil smiled, and said it contented him very much that Sir Henry

should enjoy my conversation, which he hoped in future should make

amends to his friends for his own deficiencies. So we all mounted our

horses, and Sir Henry rode alongside of me, and Basil and Hubert

behind us; for only two could hold abreast in the narrow lane which

led to Fakenham. A chill had fallen on my heart since Hubert's

arrival, which I can only liken to the sudden overcasting of a bright

sun-shiny day by a dark, cold cloud.

At first Sir Henry entered into discourse with me touching hawking,

which he talked of in a merry fashion, drawing many similitudes

betwixt falconers and lovers, which he said were the likest people in

the world.

"For, I pray you," said he "are not hawks to the one what his mistress

is to the other? the objects of his care, admiration, labor, and all.

They be indeed his idols. To them he consecrates his amorous ditties,

and courts each one in a peculiar dialect. Oh, believe me, Mistress

Sherwood, that lady may style herself fortunate in love who shall meet

with so much thought, affection, and solicitude from a lover or a

husband as his birds do from a good ostringen."

{479}

Then diverting his speech to other topics, he told me it was bruited

that the queen did intend to make a progress in the eastern counties

that summer, and that her majesty should be entertained in a very

splendid manner at Kenninghall by my Lord Arundel and also at his

house in Norwich.

"It doth much grieve me to hear it," I answered.

Then he: "Wherefore, Mistress Sherwood?"

"Because," I said, "Lord Arundel hath already greatly impaired his

fortune and spent larger sums than can be thought of in the like

prodigal courtly expenses, and also lost a good part of the lands

which his grandfather and my Lady Lumley would have bequeathed to him

if he had not turned spendthrift and so greatly displeased them."

"But and if it be so," quoth he again, "wherefore doth this young

nobleman's imprudence displeasure you, Mistress Sherwood?"

I answered, "By reason of the pain which his follies do cause to his

sweet lady, which for many years hath been more of a friend to my poor

self, than unequal rank and, if possible, still more unequal merit

should warrant."

"Then I marvel not," replied Sir Henry, "at your resentment of her

husband's folly, for by all I have ever seen or heard of this lady she

doth show herself to be the pattern of a wife, the model of high-born

ladies; and 'tis said that albeit so young, there doth exist in her so

much merit and dignity that some noblemen confess that when they come

into her presence they dare not swear, as at other times they are wont

to do before the best of the kingdom. But I have heard, and am verily

inclined to believe it, that he is much changed in his dispositions

toward his lady; though pride, it may be, or shame at his ill-usage of

her, or fear that it should seem that, now his favor with the queen

doth visibly decline, he should turn to her whom, when fortune smiled

upon him, he did keep aloof from, seeking her only when clouds gather

round him, do hinder him from showing these new inclinations."

"How much he would err," I exclaimed, "and wrong his noble wife if he

misdoubted her heart in such a case! Methinks most women would be

ready to forgive one they loved when misfortune threatened them, but

she beyond all others, who never at any time allowed jealousy or

natural resentments to draw away her love from him to whom she hath

vowed it. But is Lord Arundel then indeed in less favor with her

majesty? And how doth this surmise agree with the report of her visit

to Kenninghall?"

"Ah, Mistress Sherwood," he answered, "declines in the human body

often do call for desperate remedies, and the like are often required

when they occur in court favor. 'Tis a dangerous expedient to spend

two or three thousands of pounds in one or two days for the

entertainment of the queen and the court; but if, on the report of her

intended progress, one of such high rank as Lord Arundel had failed to

place his house at her disposal, his own disgrace and his enemies'

triumph should have speedily ensued. I pray God my Lord Burleigh do

not think on Cottessy! Egad, I would as lief pay down at once one

year's income as to be so uncertainly mulcted. I warrant you Lord

Arundel shall have need to sell an estate to pay for the honor her

majesty will do him. He hath a spirit will not stop half-way in

anything he doth pursue."

"Then think you, sir," I said, "he will be one day as noted for his

virtues as now for his faults?"

Sir Henry smiled as he answered, "If Philip Howard doth set himself

one day to serve God, I promise you his zeal therein will far exceed

what he hath shown in the devil's service."

"I pray you prove a true prophet, sir," I said; and, as we now had

reached the door of Lady Tregony's house, I took leave of this

courteous gentlemen, and hastily turned toward {480} Basil--with an

uneasy desire to set him on his guard to use some reserve in his

speeches with Hubert, but withal at a loss how to frame a brief

warning, or to speak without being overheard. Howsoever, I drew him a

little aside, and whispered, "Prithee, be silent touching Owen's work,

even to Hubert."

He looked at me so much astonished, and methought with so great a look

of pain, that my heart smote me. We exchanged a brief farewell; and

when they had all ridden away, I felt sad. Our partings were wont to

be more protracted; for he would most times ask me to walk back with

him to the gate, and then made it an excuse that it should be

unmannerly not to see me home, and so three or four times we used to

walk to and fro, till at last I did laughingly shut the door on him,

and refused to open it again. But, ah me! that evening the chill I

spoke of had fallen on our simple joys like a blight on a fair

landscape.

On the next day two missives came to me from Euston, sent by private

hand, but not by the same messenger. I leave the reader to judge what

I felt in reading these proofs of the dispositions of two brothers, so

alike in features, so different in soul. This was Basil's letter:

"MINE OWN DEAR HEART--

The business which hath brought Sir Henry and Hubert here will, I be

frightened, hold me engaged all to-morrow. But, before I sleep, I must

needs write thee (poor penman as I be) how much it misliketh me to see

in thee an ill opinion of mine only and dear brother, and such

suspicion as verily no one should entertain of a friend, but much less

of one so near in blood. I do yield thee that he is not as zealous as

I could wish in devout practices, and something too fond of worldly

pleasures; but God is my witness, I should as soon think of doubting

mine own existence as his fidelity to his religion, or his kindness to

myself. So, prithee, dear love, pain me not again by the utterance of

such injurious words to Hubert as that I should not trust him with any

secrets howsoever weighty, or should observe any manner of restraint

in communicating with him touching common dangers and interests.

Methinks he is very sad at this time, and that the sight of his

paternal home hath made him melancholy. Verily, his lot hath in it

none of the brightness which doth attend mine, and I would we could

anyways make him a partaker in the happiness we do enjoy. I pray God

he may help me to effect this, by the forwarding of any wish he hath

at heart; but he was always of a very reserved habit of mind, and not

prone to speak of his own concernments. Forgive, sweetheart, this

loving reproof, from thy most loving friend and servant,"

"BASIL ROOKWOOD."

Hubert's was as followeth:

"MADAM--My presumption toward you hath doubtless been a sin calling

for severe punishment; but I pray you leave not the cause of it

unremembered. The doubtful mind you once showed in my regard, and of

which the last time I saw you some marks methought did yet appear,

should be my excuse if I have erred in a persistency of love, which

most women would less deserve indeed, but would more appreciate than

you have done. If this day no token doth reach me of your changed

mind, be it so. I depart hence as changed as you do remain unchanged.

It may be for mine own weal, albeit passion deems of it otherwise, if

you finally reject me whom once you did look upon with so great favor,

that the very thought of it works in me a revived tenderness as should

be mine own undoing if it prevailed, for this country hath laws which

are not broken in vain, and faithful loyal service is differently

requited than traitorous and obstinate malignity. I shall be the

greater for lacking your love, proud lady; but to have it I would

forego all a sovereign can bestow--all that ambition can desire.

These, then, are my last words. If we meet not to-day, God {481}

knoweth with what sentiments we shall one day meet, when justice hath

overtaken you, and love in me hath turned to hatred!"

"HUBERT ROOKWOOD."

"Ay," I bitterly exclaimed, laying the two letters side by side before

me, "one endeth with love, the other with hate. The one showeth the

noble fruits of true affection, the other the bitter end of selfish

passion." Then I mused if I should send Basil, or show him later

Hubert's letter, clearing myself of any injustice toward him, but

destroying likewise for ever his virtuous confidence his brother's

honor. A short struggle with myself ensued, but I soon resolved, for

the present at least, on silence. If danger did seem to threaten

Basil, which his knowledge of his brother's baseness could avert, then

I must needs speak; but God defend I should without constraint pour a

poisoned drop into the dear fount of his undoubting soul. Passion may

die away, hatred may cease, repentance arise; but the evil done by the

revealing of another's sin worketh endless wrong to the doer and the

hearer.

The day on which I received these two letters did seem the longest I

had ever known. On the next Basil came to Banham Hall, and told me his

guests were gone. A load seemed lifted from my heart But, albeit we

resumed our wonted manner of life, and the same mutual kindness and

accustomed duties and pleasures filled our days, I felt less secure in

my happiness, less thoughtless of the world without, more subject to

sudden sinkings of heart in the midst of greatest merriment, than

before Hubert's visit.

In the early part of June, Mr. Congleton wrote in answer to Basil's

eager pressings that he would fix the day of our marriage, that he was

of opinion a better one could not be found than that of our Lady's

Visitation, on the 2d of July, and that, if it pleased God, he should

then take the first journey he had made for five-and-twenty years; for

nothing would serve Lady Tregony but that the wedding should take

place in her house, where a priest would marry us in secret at break

of day, and then we should ride to the parish church at Euston for the

public ceremony. He should, he added, carry Muriel with him, howsoever

reluctant she should be to leave London; but he promised us this

should be a welcome piece of constraint, for that she longed to see me

again more than can be told.

Verily, pleasant letters reached me that week; for my father wrote he

was in better health, and in great peace and contentment of mind at

Rheims, albeit somewhat sad, when he saw younger and more fortunate

men (for so he styled them) depart for the English mission; and by a

cypher we had agreed on he gave me to understand Edmund Genings was of

that number. And Lady Arundel, to whom I had reported the conversation

I had with Sir Henry Jemingham, sent me an answer which I will here

transcribe:

"MY WELL-BELOVED CONSTANCE

--You do rightly read my heart, and the hope you express in my regard,

with so tender a friendship and solicitous desire for my happiness,

hath indeed a better foundation than idle surmises. It hath truly

pleased God that Philip's disposition toward me should change; and

albeit this change is not as yet openly manifested, he nevertheless

doth oftentimes visit me, and testifies much regret for his past

neglect of one whom he doth now confess to be his truest friend, his

greatest lover, and best comfort. O mine own dear friend! my life has

known many strange accidents, but none greater or more strange than

this, that my so long indifferent husband should turn into a secret

lover who doth haunt me by stealth, and looking on me with new eyes,

appears to conceive so much admiration for my worthless beauty, and to

find such pleasure in my poor company, that it would seem as if a new

face and person had been given to me wherewith {482} to inspire him

with this love for her to whom he doth owe it. Oh, I promise thee this

husbandly wooing liketh me well, and methinks I would not at once

disclose to the world this new kindness he doth show me and revival of

conjugal affection, but rather hug it and cherish it like a secret

treasure until it doth take such deep root that nothing can again

separate his heart from me. His fears touching the queen's

ill-conception of him increase, and his enemies do wax more powerful

each day. The world hath become full of uneasiness to him. Methinks he

would gladly break with it; but like to one who walketh on a narrow

plank, with a precipice on each side of him, his safety lieth only in

advancing. The report is true--I would it were false--of the queen's

progress, and her intended visit to Kenninghall. I fear another fair

estate in the north must needs pay the cost thereof; but avoidance is

impossible. I am about to remove from London to Arundel Castle, where

my lord doth will me for the present to reside. The sea-breezes on

that coast, and the mild air of Sussex, he thinks should improve my

health, which doth at this time require care. Touching religion, I

have two or three times let fall words which implied an increased

inclination to Catholic religion. Each time his countenance did very

much alter, and assumed a painful expression. I fear he is as greatly

opposed to it as heretofore. But if once resolved on what conscience

doth prescribe, with God's help, I hope that neither new-found joys

nor future fears shall stay me from obeying its voice.

"And so thou art to be married come the early days of July! I' faith

thy Basil and thou have, like a pair of doves, cooed long enough, I

ween, amidst the tall trees of Euston; which, if you are to be

believed, should be the most delectable place in the whole world. And

yet some have told me it is but a huge plain building, and the country

about it, except for its luxuriant trees, of no notable beauty. The

sunshine of thine own heart sheddeth, I ween, a radiancy on the plain

walls and the unadorned gardens greater than nature or art can bestow.

I cry thee mercy for this malicious surmise, and give thee license,

when I shall write in the same strain touching my lord's castle at

Arundel to flout me in a like manner. Some do disdainfully style it a

huge old fortress; others a very grand and noble pile. If that good

befalleth me that he doth visit me there, then I doubt not but it will

be to me the cheerfullest place in existence. Thy loving servant to

command,

"ANN ARUNDEL AND SURREY."

This letter came to my hand at Whitsuntide, when the village folks

were enacting a pastoral, the only merit of which did lie in the

innocent glee of the performers. The sheep-shearing feast, a very

pretty festival, ensued a few days later. A fat lamb was provided, and

the maidens of the town permitted to run after it, and she which took

hold of it declared the lady of the lamb. 'Tis then the custom to kill

and carry it on a long pole before the lady and her companions to the

green, attended with music and morisco dances. But this year I

ransomed the lamb, and had it crowned with blue corn-flowers and

poppies, and led to a small paddock, where for some time I visited and

fed it every day. Poor little lamb! like me, it had one short happy

time that summer.

In the evening I went with the lasses to the banks of the Ouse, and

scattered on the dimpling stream, as is their wont at the lamb-ale, a

thousand odorous flowers--new-born roses, the fleur-de-luce,

sweet-williams, and yellow coxcombs, the small-flowered

lady's-slipper, the prince's-feather and the clustered bell-flower,

the sweet-basil (the saucy wenches smiled when they furnished me with

a bunch thereof), and a great store of midsummer daisies. When, with

due observance, I threw on the water a handful of these golden-tufted

and {483} silver-crowned flowerets, I thought of Master Chaucer's

lines:

"Above all the flowers in the mead

These love I most--these flowers white and red.

And in French called _la belle Marguerite_.

O commendable flower, and most in mind!

O flower and gracious excellence!

O amiable Marguerite."

The great store of winsome and graciously-named flowers used that day

set me to plan a fair garden, wherein each month should yield in its

turn to the altar of our secret chapel a pure incense of nature's own

furnishing. Basil was helping me thereto, and my Lady Tregony smiling

at my quaint devices, when Mr. Cobham, a cousin of her ladyship,

arrived, bringing with him news of the queen's progress, which quickly

diverted us from other thoughts, and caused my pencil to stand idle in

mine hand.

TO BE CONTINUED.

----------

From The Sixpenny Magazine.

THE SIEGE OF MALTA.

When Solymon, sultan of Turkey, had resolved to extirpate the Knights

of Malta, pursuant to his ultimate design of taking vengeance on

Philip II. of Spain for the loss which he had suffered in the

reduction of the (as he supposed) impregnable Penon de Valez, and for

the hostility which the Spaniards had visited upon the Morescoes, to

which may be added the incentive of radical religious differences, for

the depredations which those famous warriors had visited upon his

commerce, he gave the command of his fleet to Piali, and that of his

land forces to Mustapha. Having equipped all of the ships in his

empire, to which were united the corsairs of Hascem and Dragut,

viceroys of Algiers and Tripoli, he ordered them to repair to the

siege of Malta.

The Christian powers on the Mediterranean, having heard of his

extensive preparations, were in doubt as to the destination of the

Turkish fleet; but it appearing from the report of spies that it was

bound for Malta, the grand master called immediately upon the Catholic

king, the Pope, and the other Christian princes for their aid in

withstanding their common enemy, the infidels. These powers were under

no small obligation to the Knights, who had made it a part of the

faith which they held in unity with these powers, to destroy them upon

every occasion which presented the opportunity. But, to their

disgrace, these powers discovered an ungrateful hesitancy in

responding to this demand, save Philip, and even he, the historian

relates, was actuated by motives not wholly engendered by a sense of

honor, and whose tardiness was well-nigh fatal to the cause which he

professed to zealously espouse, and upon which the Knights of Malta

relied for success.

About the middle of May, three hundred years ago, the Turkish fleet

arrived in sight of Malta, with a strength of upward of 40,000,

composed chiefly of janissaries and serapis, the bravest troops of the

Ottoman empire.

John de la Valette, the master-spirit of the defence, commands our

highest admiration for his intrepid efforts in inspiring every aspect

with the buoyancy of hope. The troops at his disposal to stay this

tide of destruction, which set so furiously against his little

sea-washed isle, amounted to only 700 knights and 8,500 soldiers,

which flattered Solymon into the egregious error that it was an easy

conquest to {484} His janissaries and serapis, who, under their

distinguished commanders, were accustomed to victory.

The Turks landed at some distance from Il Borgo, and, unresisted,

devastated the defenceless territory; but they now drew near a goal

which was calculated to deceive those who entertained the fantasy that

an easy victory waited them.

Mustapha, in view of the Spanish forces daily expected to relieve the

enemy, counselled an immediate attack upon St. Elmo. This was a fort

deriving much of its strength, as well as importance, from its natural

advantages. It was situated on a narrow neck of land which was washed

on either side by important harbors; it was accessible only over a

road which was either bare rock or thinly covered with gravel, and, in

the rear, communications with Il Borgo were protected by the forts St.

Angelo and St. Michael.

The basha, to secure himself a safer approach to St. Elmo, caused to

be erected a parapet of heavy timber, covered toward the fort with a

mixture of earth, straw, and rushes, to receive the enemy's missiles.

Here he planted his heaviest guns and prepared for the siege.

The governor of St. Elmo delegated a member of the fort to convey

intelligence to La Valette, the grand master, that the place could not

sustain an action for a great length of time; the messenger

represented, in exaggerated coloring, the information that the fort

could not withstand the siege for more than a week. La Valette, in his

reply, administered a rebuke, although convinced that it could not,

with its limited capacity for sustaining troops, remain long in the

possession of the order; but he was none the less impressed with the

policy of holding it, even at a great sacrifice, till the arrival of

the Viceroy of Sicily, who had been instructed by the King of Spain to

represent the kingdom, in response to the call of the grand master. He

concluded, in view of the necessities of the case, to head in person a

body of reinforcements; but being dissuaded by the importunities of

the Knights, he consented to intrust its charge to De Medran, in whom

he placed implicit confidence.

Stung by the rebuke, and encouraged by their new accessions, the

garrison sallied forth upon the offensive, dealing consternation to

the unwarned foe; but having recovered from their surprise, the Turks

turned upon their assailants, who were discomfited by a perverse wind

which blew the smoke so as to obscure the enemy, and drove them within

the walls. When the smoke cleared away, what was the dismay of the

Knights to discover that the Turks had planted a battery in such

juxtaposition as to compromise much the security of the fort. It was,

unquestionably, a doubtful advantage which the Christians obtained by

quitting their works, as they now found it necessary for a greater

vigilance to be called into action.

The tireless infidels having discovered a gun-port but a few feet from

the ground, well-nigh made themselves masters of the cavaliers by

means of ladders. But after slaughtering many Christians, the

garrison, aroused from sleep and inspired by their sense of danger,

compelled, by the fury of their assault, the Turks to retire into the

ravelin. The conflict was now renewed upon the part of the

janissaries, and the contest raged with unabated vigor from daylight

till noon, when the besiegers were forced to withdraw. About a hundred

and twenty soldiers and Knights were killed, at a cost of nearly three

thousand to the enemy.

The situation of the fort was now grown critical. Mustapha held the

ravelin, and, conscious of its significance to the foe, whose attempts

to regain it were strenuous, filled up the ranks as fast as the

desperate struggles thinned them. La Valette sent reinforcements;

still the infidels persevered in battering breaches in the walls.

Fearing lest Mustapha would attempt to effect his purpose by {485}

storming, the faltering Knights applied a second time to the grand

master, recommending a desertion of the works.

La Valette, in opposition to the majority of his council, held, though

regretting the fate which awaited his brothers in the order, that the

place must not be evacuated, and called upon the defenders to execute

their vow, if necessary, which bound them to sacrifice their lives for

the welfare and perpetuity of the order. He also determined to follow

soon his reply in person, and fall in the common cause of

Christianity. Such was the grand master who withstood, alone and

unsupported, as we might say, the whole infidel forces, and who

declared his fealty to the cause in so determined a manner--a manner

not weakened by faltering acts--as to inspire courage into the most

craven heart.

Some murmured at this response, and fifty-three of the malcontents

addressed him a letter, in which they expressed the purpose that,

unless on the next night he sent boats to take them away, they would

seek sudden death without the shelter of the fort. To this letter he

replied by sending three commissioners to examine the tenability of

the works, and explaining to the disaffected soldiery their paramount

duty to the organization, and the futility of sacrificing their lives

to no good end, which were now so needful to sustain the defence

against the enemies of their holy faith. Two of these commissioners

concurred in pronouncing it untenable, but the third, Constantine

Gastriot, esteemed the fort far from being reduced. To guarantee his

good faith he offered to attempt its defence with what soldiers the

dangerous post would voluntarily command.

La Valette gladly accepted the offer, and, with consummate address,

informed the hitherto clamorous Knights that they might now obtain

their discharge; that he would relieve them by another garrison; and

also promising them facilities for transportation to II Borgo. "You my

brethren," concluded he, "may be in greater safety here, and I shall

then feel less anxiety for the preservation of the fort."

Conscious of the infamy that would await them upon their return, and

stung by the latent expression of the letter, they resolved to only

quit the fort when called to face the enemy. The grand master, to try

their feelings, intimated that willing troops were preferable to those

who were mutinous. This answer greatly affected the Knights, and they

humbled themselves still more till La Valette gladly receded from his

rigor.

Having now consecrated themselves for the immolation, and more troops

having come to their relief, operations were resumed. An invention

productive of great mischief to the enemy was resorted to by the

fertile genius of the besieged. Hoops were constructed of very

combustible material, and ignited and thrown among the Turks as they

were crowding to the assault. These were calculated to clasp a few of

them together, and, in confusion, to render relief impossible, and a

horrid death probable.

For a month the engagement was daily renewed, and Mustapha was as

frequently repulsed. On the 16th of July, intent upon a grand,

overwhelming assault, the Turkish fleet was drawn up near the fort,

supported by 4,000 musketeers and archers in the earthworks. The Turks

attempted to rush in at the breaches, now filled up with the

invincible Christian soldiery. But the immense number of the former

defeated the end they sought by so great a force. The cannon belched

forth a broad-sweeping desolation among the assailants for six hours;

the enemy were terrified almost beyond control of the officers, till,

at length, Mustapha was mortified in having, without gaining any

advantage by the slaughter which his command had sustained, to recall

them.