FURTHER CONSULTATIONS.
WINNIE stood at the cottage door and watched the retreating figures of
the sportsmen as long as she could see them. It seemed to her that no
one was ever so long in walking a quarter of a mile, but at last they
reached the bend of the valley down which the little brook took its
course, and were out of view, Carlo pausing and taking another look at
the hut, as though his mind were not yet quite at rest about that cat.
When she could no longer see the least glimpse, Winifred returned to
the bedside, and, throwing herself down with her face hidden in the
bed-clothes, she burst into tears, and sobbed as if her heart would
break.
"Why, my maid, what is the matter?" asked the old woman. "The danger is
over for this time, and Master Arthur is safe. They will not come back
again to-night."
"I know it," sobbed Winifred. "I know I am silly, but I cannot help
crying. It was so dreadful! And the dog smelling at the door, and all!
I thought two or three times it was all over with us!"
"And so did I!" replied Dame Sprat. "I heartily wished the cat at
Bristol, or further off, fond as I am of the poor creature."
"Then you think it was really the cat, and not Master Arthur, the dog
was after?" said Winifred, composing herself by degrees.
"I think so, but of course I cannot tell," replied the dame. "At all
events, the cat was there, and right glad am I that the gentlemen would
not allow her to be molested."
"Does it not seem strange," said Winifred, "that a man like Colonel
Kirke, who laughed at the prayers of mothers for their children, and
made hideous jests upon the poor dying creatures in their agonies—he
who made a poor lad run a race with a colt to save his life, and hanged
him after all—should have been willing to spare the poor cat because
you asked him, and should have taken your plain speaking so kindly?"
"He was in cool blood, and I suppose his heart might be softened by old
recollections. There are few men, however hardened in crime, but have
some good left about them, if one can only find it."
"I wonder if there is any good left about Judge Jeffreys?" said
Winifred.
"Possibly there may be, but I should expect it sooner in Kirke than in
him. Kirke is a soldier of fortune, bred up in the midst of war and
carnage, and has lived many years in Tangier among the heathen, where
he has probably not had one good or softening influence near him. The
consequence is that he is a savage, and almost a wild beast. But so
far as I know, he has not deliberately sold himself to the devil for
gold and gain, as it seems Jeffreys has done, and as did the Duke of
Lauderdale in Scotland, who, himself a Presbyterian, lent himself
to persecute the suffering people of that name. But I cannot but be
sorry for Kirke. It is sad to me to see one whom I remember well as a
pleasant, kind-hearted little lad, transformed into such a ruffian. We
live in evil times, my child, but I trust they will soon pass away.
Something tells me that better days are at hand for this poor country!"
"Yes, if the good Princess of Orange should come to be queen, but then
the king may live a long time, and perhaps have children."
"Well, we will not speculate upon the matter, child. There is One who
is King over all, and who can bring good out of the darkest evil. I
think we are in no further danger of visitors this night, so you may
venture to call Master Arthur, and receive his messages for his sister."
Winifred opened the door, and called, "Master Arthur, they are gone,
and the dame thinks you are safe. Will you please come out, and tell me
what I am to say to my lady?"
"So they are gone at last!" said Arthur, creeping out of his hole, and
stretching his long limbs vigorously. "It is a fine time, truly, when I
am driven to hide, like a rat in a hole, from my own sister's husband."
"You ought to be thankful that you had the hole to hide in, and that
you were safe even there!" said Winifred, rather severely, for she was
scandalized by the lightness of his tone. "I am sure I gave all up for
lost when the dog scratched at the door."
"And so I am thankful, my wise little monitor, not only for the hole,
but still more to you and my good old friend here, for the steady
courage you showed under such a severe trial. I heard every word as
I lay close to the wall, and know how near my poor old Carlo was to
betraying me. The dumb beast has a longer memory for his friends than
many who call themselves his superiors. I am thankful, too, to Mistress
Puss and her family for taking my peril upon herself. I think I shall
always stand up for the whole race of cats from this day, and, by the
way, they shall have a share of the fish, which I fear is sadly spoiled
by waiting so long."
Winifred sighed. This jesting tone seemed to her sadly out of place in
one who had just had such a narrow escape from captivity and death.
Dame Sprat heard the sigh, and said kindly:
"You must, remember, Winifred, that Master Arthur is a soldier, and
used to dangers and narrow escapes. We cannot expect him to look upon
such things as we do. I doubt not he does in his heart give earnest
thanks to his Heavenly Father for this deliverance."
"Indeed I do, dame!" said Arthur, more gravely. "I am, as you say, a
soldier, besides being an outlaw and an exile, and one becomes used to
danger as to other things, such as cold, hunger, and home-sickness.
Nevertheless, I do, as you well say, give earnest thanks to God for His
mercies, and not least for raising me up such kind friends at my utmost
need. And I trust, if He delivers me from this present peril, to serve
Him more faithfully than I have ever done before."
"It is well spoken, and may He who giveth grace send you strength
according to your need!" said Dame Sprat. "But, Winifred, it is time
you were on your way home. Your good mother will be uneasy at your
delay."
"If Mr. Carew will give me the message for my lady," said Winifred.
"Oh, aye! Tell my good sister to run no risk upon my account, and to
make no move till Sir Edward has gone up to London. After that, if she
can in some way furnish me with a horse, a small quantity of ready
money, and a suit of clothes, I can easily find friends, who will
aid me to escape from some of the western ports. I would gladly see
Margaret if it could be managed, but I would not risk bringing her into
trouble or danger."
"I do not think it is her own trouble or danger which my lady fears,"
said Winifred; "and I am sure she has no lack of affection for you."
"I know, I know!" interrupted Arthur. "My sister cannot do as she
would, and I like you the better for being so ready to defend her. But
you will come again before long, Winifred?"
"The day after to-morrow," said Winifred, smiling. "You have abundance
of provisions till that time, so you will not miss me."
"It is not the provisions I am thinking of, but yourself, my saucy
little maid, as you well know," said Arthur, smiling in his turn. "Your
face is a medicine for home-sickness."
"Now I will not have the child's head turned with your courtier's
compliments, Master Arthur," interposed Dame Sprat. "Thank your mother
for her gifts, Winifred, and also good Mrs. Alwright. Stay, my child,
one word more! If you go to the Hall again while he is there, I would
have you endeavor carefully to avoid Colonel Kirke. He is a bold, bad
man, and not one to do you any good; nor do I think him likely to pay
much respect to Sir Edward's family. Keep you close to my lady or Mrs.
Alwright, and do not by any means stray in the park or gardens by
yourself. You may not understand me, nor is it needful you should, but
I have reasons for what I say. Now once more good-night, and may the
Lord bless thee!"
"That is a marvellous little maid!" said Arthur, after Winifred had
departed. "It is no wonder that my sister loves her."
"She is indeed a wonderfully gracious child!" replied Dame Sprat. "She
comes of a good family, and hath been well-taught both by her mother
and by my lady, who keeps her much in her company. I cannot but think,
however, that she owes much of her peculiar goodness and purity to a
higher teacher than either. She is truly a child of grace and led by
the Spirit of God. He would be a wretch indeed who should sully so pure
a flower, yet I sometimes fear lest her great beauty should lead her
into danger. I would Colonel Kirke had never set his evil eyes upon her
face."
"He would indeed be a wretch who could harm her," said Arthur; "but
Kirke has done even worse things, unless he is greatly belied. The
protection of the queen herself would be no shield to one on whom he
fixed his fancy."
"I dare say not," returned the dame, dryly. "Royal protection hath not
been particularly favorable to virtue in these latter days."
"Truly not! But you say Winifred is of good family? I thought she
belonged to some of the farmers hereabout."
"Her father is a sailor, the younger son of old Master Evans of the
Stonehill farm, than whom no one is more respected in these parts. Her
mother belongs to an ancient but somewhat decayed Devonshire family,
of whom I dare say you know something—the Coffins of North Devon. She
is, not distantly, related to your sister's first husband, Colonel
Winthrop. I do not know whether my lady is aware of it, but indeed I
think she must be, for this child is wonderfully like him, both in face
and manner. He was a gracious youth, and one who, my husband used to
say, had more of the root of the matter in him than many of those who
made more words about it. I suppose you do not remember your brother
Winthrop, Master Arthur?"
"Hardly, dame, since he died the very year that I was born," replied
Arthur. "But I have seen his portrait in my sister's cabinet, when I
was a child. It had always a great charm for me—partly, I suppose,
because I fancied some mystery attached to it. Do you know Winifred's
age?"
"She is fifteen, though she looks so much younger that she might easily
pass for eleven. I trust, Master Arthur, I have no need to remind you—"
"I understand you, dame," said Arthur, coloring high, as Dame Sprat
paused, with her eyes fixed upon his face. "I cannot blame you for the
thought, considering what are the manners of the time, but believe me,
you do me great wrong. I have done many things in my life-time which
had been better left undone, but I should be a fiend indeed if I were
capable of doing aught that should injure yon fair child. I am right
glad my sister has taken such a fancy to her for both their sakes,
since Winifred could not have a kinder or more judicious friend, and
I sometimes fear my poor Margaret hath but a dull life of it. But our
supper is ready, and a savory one it is, thanks to good old Alwright.
I am in a hurry to see if her sausages are as good as ever. Here,
Mistress Puss, come and have your share."
Winifred found Jack in a very doleful mood.
"What made you stay so long?" he murmured, "I think it is too bad in
you to leave me for that old woman!"
"I have only been away three hours, Jack," replied Winifred. "The poor
old dame is down with rheumatism, and has no one to attend upon her,
while you have all the house to wait upon you."
"It is all the fault of that old magpie. Grandfather ought to have had
the tree cut down!"
"It was not the tree's fault, nor the poor magpie's either," remarked
Priscy, who had just come in. "I am sure the poor bird never asked you
to rob her nest. You should have minded the master and left the tree
alone, and then you might have been helping to gather the apples this
day, instead of lying here groaning and making ever so much trouble."
"Well, never mind, Priscy!" said Winifred, gently. "Jack will be wiser
another time. See here, Jack, what fine apples I picked up as I came
through the orchard. I will ask mother to let me roast one for you, and
when I go up to the Hall to-morrow, I will ask Mrs. Alwright to send
you something nice. I am sure she will, for she said she was very sorry
for you. Come now, don't cry any more, and I will read you a story out
of my new book."
Winnie's gentleness and kindness finally soothed poor Jack and got him
to sleep. And Winnie then delivered a small lecture to Priscilla.
"You should not tease poor Jack, now that he is ill and helpless. It
only makes him fret, and I am sure it does him no good. You are not
always careful yourself any more than Jack. Do you remember how you
would go to Bridgewater fair, in the rain, despite all my mother and
grandfather could say? You would not have thought it very kind, when
you were sick with your cold and ague afterwards, if my mother had all
the time reproached you with the trouble you gave, though your illness
was far more inconvenient than Jack's, coming as it did in the midst of
sheep-shearing."
"And that is true indeed, Mrs. Winifred!" said Priscilla, a little
conscience-stricken. "The dear mistress—she never gave me a word all
the time, and nursed me as I had been her own sister. But then, dear
me, I never expect to be as good as you and the mistress."
"I don't see why not, Priscy. I don't see any reason why you should not
be as good as the best saint that ever lived!"
"No, I dare say you don't, because you judge other folks by yourself.
But, Mrs. Winnie, my dear, I will not tease poor Jack any more. I will
go to the mistress this minute, and ask her if I may not make the poor
lad a nice custard against he wakes. I am sure a custard cannot hurt
him."
Permission was given, and Jack and Priscilla were soon good friends
over the custard.
When every one else had gone to bed, Winifred related to her mother the
adventure of the afternoon. Dame Magdalen shuddered at thought of the
peril.
"It was indeed a wonderful escape, and you are a wonderful child," said
she. "I fear I could never have kept myself quiet as you did."
"I do not think we any of us know what we can do till we try," said
Winifred. "When I look back over this week, and think of all that has
happened, it seems to me that I am hardly the same person I was last
Sunday—I feel so much older. I wonder what the reason is?"
"'Tis the care, child! Care and trouble make young folks old, and you
have heretofore known little of either. My poor grandmother's hair
turned gray all in a single week while her mother was in prison, and
she was a young woman not thirty years old. Those were fearful times,
and who knows but we may have the same back again, since the king is
a papist, and by all account as hard-hearted and as much led by the
Jesuits as Queen Mary herself!"
"Do you think all papists are hard-hearted, mother?" asked Winifred. "I
have heard Priscilla say that the Lady Stratford, with whom her mother
lived, was a kind, good lady."
"No doubt there are good and bad among them, as among others. The
king has had provocation, too, that cannot be denied, both of late,
and in the old times of the Popish Plot. Nevertheless, that does
not excuse what has been done in his name in this and other places.
Well, Winifred, you have become entangled in this matter by no fault
of yours, and I do not see but you must carry it through. It seems
hard, or at least strange, that you should have been allowed to fall
into such trouble and danger, only for doing your duty and aiding the
distressed."
"I think it often happens so," said Winifred. "The apostles were all
put to death for teaching people the way of salvation, and you know,
mother," she added, with reverence, "our Lord Himself laid down His
life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren."
"True, my daughter! That is the real spirit of Christ. I trust,
however, that you may not be called to any such sacrifice. Now, to
bed and to sleep, my child, and do not dream of the dangers you have
passed."