_A Snake among yᵉ Flowers_
I can give thee, _Hew_, no very connected Account of the Rest of that
Season.... One Horror followed another—the Land was full of Blood, and
Fire, and Vapour of Smoke. We went softly, and lived gloomy, and
wretched, and desolate.
Sometimes I wished my Turn would come: then, dreaded it. _Tomkins_ was
continually before mine Eyes. At last, I suppose I altered so, that
Master _Hewet_ sent me down to my Mother, to keep quiet awhile in the
Country.
Oh! what Happiness that was! The Tears we then shed together had Healing
in them; and soon, away from all hateful Sounds and Sights, we gave over
weeping altogether. My Mother, I found, had, in the first Instance,
outwardly conformed; _kissed Baal_, in Fact; and then, like a good many
other timid yet well-meaning Persons, found many Excuses to make for
having so done, which yet failed to allay Self-disapprobation, and ended
in Contrition and Resolutions of doing so no more. She was favourably
placed for the keeping of such Resolves; having moved out of _Ashford_,
to a remote Country-farm, too far from a Place of Worship for regular
Attendance, wherefore she had set a-foot a little Church within her
House, that was served, under the Rose, by a deprived Minister
harbouring in the Neighbourhood. One of my younger Brothers, a goodly
Lad, was at School; the other, a sickly Urchin, dwelt at Home, inactive
but very happy.
So here I tarried, Thanks to good Master _Hewet_! till my Mind quite
regained its Strength, as happy as a Rook on _Sundays_, as we say in
_Kent_. The Change was so great, that my Absence seemed much longer than
it really was. On my Return to _London_, as I rode along _Kentstrete_,
my Heart seemed to fly forward to what, in Course of Years, had become
my very Home. And, when we were all re-united beneath the same Roof, and
I had fallen into my old Course, with very little Interference with the
World without, I shortly began to be ware of a deep, new, inward Source
of Happiness, that for a While I neither could nor would understand.
Whatever I did, wherever I went, the very Air I breathed seemed to have
a Glow, and Sweetness, and Freshness in it, whether my Errand led me
through the Skinners' Yards in _Budgerow_, or the Butchers' Stalls in
_Eastchepe_; 'twas all the same!—let the Stretes be ringing with
Noises, there was a Song of Angels in my Head that made me deaf
thereunto. And soon I was ware that this new Sweetness of Living, which
was Serenity abroad, was Rapture at Home; and so all-satisfying was it,
that I took no Care for the Morrow, nor aspired for Aught I had not, but
only coveted to go on just as I was.
Master _Hewet_, about this Time, was full content with me, and reposed
in me more and more Trust. Whereby I became aware that his Ventures were
becoming more important, his Connexions more extended, his Credit
higher, his Gains greater; and yet, withal, no Abatement of his old Rule
of Simplicity and Plainness; unless with regard to Mistress _Anne_. No
Money was in Sooth spared on her for Teaching or Dressing: her Chambers
for Night and Day had, I believe, every Adornment that Money and Taste
could procure: if her Ornaments were few, it was rather that she did not
affect wearing many, than that there was Anything her Eye coveted that
her Father would not buy for her. But she was one whom Indulgence could
not spoil. Her Money, of which she had ample Allowance from an early
Age, (it being one of Master _Hewet's_ sage Maxims, that Children should
be irresponsible Controulers of some regular Stipend, however small, to
teach them Self-denial, Liberality, and Charity,) her Money, I say, was
freely expended upon others, and employed in gratifying many an innocent
Taste for Flowers, Birds, and such-like. Thus it fell, that I was now
and then made Party to some little Mystery that gave me Pleasure she
wist not she was bestowing, for I am persuaded she was at this Time
living chiefly in a little Dream-land of her own, peopled with none but
good Spirits and fair Prospects. It was, "_Osborne_, dost thou care to
favour me so much as to step down to the _Blanche Chapelton_, and slip
this into the Hand of the poor Basket-maker whose House was burned down
last Night?"—or, _Edward_, I want to buy my Father an Inkstand I have
seen in _Lyme-strete_; 'tis of rare Fancy, and, I think, a real
Antique—a Hare in her Form, made of some glossy, brown Substance; and
between the Hare's Ears is the Mouth of the Inkstand.—The Shop looks
not like one I should care to enter, but 'tis over-against the
Green-gate of _Miguel_ _Pistoy_. Mind not the Price, but see thou tell
not even _Damaris_."
Now, though Master _Hewet_ so liberally supplied her Privy-purse, there
were certain Household Expenses he made her reckon to a Penny; and, if
she were at Fault, she had to make it good. 'Twas pretty, and diverting,
to hear these two sometimes arguing together over their Account-book:
for Mistress _Anne_ was not a ready Reckoner, and he would by no Means
be put off with a Quip. One Day, they were counting out their Money,
when he said, "_Ned_, this young Gentlewoman can never attain to a
competent Knowledge of Figures. I'll give thee a Couple of Angels to
carry her on into Practice, for I shall save Money i' the End."
So when he is gone, I say, "Come, Mistress, the Bribe is very high ...
where shall we begin? I suppose 'twill shame you to be put too far back."
"I hardly know what will be too far back," saith she, rogueing a
little—"My Father sayeth I have done this wrong—" and she gives me a
little Slip of Paper, inscribed with the neatest, prettiest little
Figures.
"Good now!" said I, "the only Mistake herein is,—you have essayed to
subtract the greater Number from the less; which you know can never be."
"Yes, it can be, sometimes," saith she, quickly.
"Never!" say I. "How?"
"Take V from IV and I remains!" quod she. So I laughed, and told her
many a Spendthrift would like that Reckoning.
"Well," said I, "I suppose you desire not to begin with Enumeration."
"Since your Time is so valuable," sayth she, "you need not teach me at
all."
"Nay, Mistress," say I, "count a Million if you will! I can tarry."
"How long will that take me?" quod she.
"Why," say I, "if you count a Hundred a Minute, that is, six Thousand in
an Hour, and count at that Rate for fourteen Hours in the twenty-four,
you may in twelve Days count a Million."
"Hold, hold!" cries she, "you will make me puzzle-headed for a week!"
and so, runs off.
Next Time I saw her alone, I say, "Well, Mistress, are you in the Humour
for Practice?"
"No," quoth she with Decision, "I know Figures already!" And commenced
tinkling on her Virginals. So, there an End ... or might ha' been, were
any Woman two Days o' the same Mind. But, shortly, she cometh to me with
a Tear in her Eye.
"_Ned_," saith she, "what's to be done? I gave all the Money in my Purse
(there wasn't much), to the Girdler's Widow, hard by St. _Anne_ in the
Willows; and now, I can't make up my Father's Accounts, and shall seem
unto him a Defaulter."
"Or be one ... which?" quod I. "What is to do?"
"What _can_ I do?" returns she.
"Marry," say I, "I can lend you the Money."
"Nay," quoth she quickly, "it would not be right in me to take it."
"You have Reason," say I. "It would not."
"Then what remaineth?" she said.
"Honesty afore Charity," I made Answer. "You must ask Master _Hewet_ to
deduct it from your next Quarterage, and henceforth give not away his
Money when you have spent your own."
"He would never have grutched it!" cries she, kindling.
"Forsooth, then, all's said," quod I, and turned to go.
"_Ned!_ stop," cries she, "how _canst_ thou be so ill-natured?" and
began to cry a little. "Why did you not, the other Day, as my Father
bade you, put me on some better Method with my Accounts?"
"Why," said I, "I was about to try, when you started off like a young
Deer from a Gad-fly."
"Well," saith she, "run this up for me, at all Events, and see if there
be any Error in the Sum-total ... I shall be grateful to you either
Way."
So I began,—"_To Groceries, four-and-fourpence_...."
"Four-and-fourpence!" cries she, "Four Pound four!"
"'Tis here plainly set down," say I, "as four-and-fourpence."
"Oh, charming!" cries she, "then all's straight!"
And, catching the Paper from mine Hand, she goes off with it, and I see
no more of her nor her Accounts.
Only, about a Month after, Master _Hewet_ says, "Well, _Ned_, I have not
paid thee thy two Angels?"
"I have not earned them, Sir," I say, "Mistress _Anne_ will none of my
teaching."
"In Faith, then, she has schooled herself to some Purpose," saith he,
smiling, "for she is ready enough now, both at Proportion and Practice.
What a whimsical young Lass it is!"
In Fact she had, as about this Time, that Necessity for Application to
practical Affairs which makes many Women good Reckoners whether they
have a natural Turn for it or no. For Mistress _Fraunces's_ Health
failing her a little, Mistress _Anne_ undertook the Conduct of the
Household, which the other as readily yielded unto her, witting that the
Pratique would do her good. So she went about, demurely, with the Keys,
measuring this and weighing that, and setting down Everything in a
little Book at her Girdle. 'Twas a Lesson, to see her Tendance, in all
duteous Affectuousness, on good Mistress _Fraunces_, who indeed merited
of her the Love of a Daughter, and whom she soon nursed well. Mistress
_Fraunces_, always very softhearted, told me I should find she had not
forgotten my Care of her, in her Will. Howbeit, I was thankful no
Occasion came of opening it.
On my Birthday, Mistress _Anne_ came to me smiling, with her Hands
behind her, and said, "Which Hand will you have?"
I regarded her earnestly, and said, "The right Hand, Mistress."
"Oh, miserable Choice!" cried she, laughing, and throwing me a worn
Glove of her own; "hadst thou said 'Left,' thou shouldest have had this
brave new Pair of scented Gloves!"
I said, "I'm content," and took up the cast Glove with Pleasure.
"Well," sayth she, "you are too indifferent by half about your
Blunder—howbeit, here they are for you; I bought them of Purpose."
So I bowed reverently and took them in my Hand; but, when she was gone,
I put the other in my Bosom.
Another Time, I was arranging a Sunshade for Mistress _Fraunces_, in the
blue-buckram Chamber, when Mistress _Anne_ calleth me into the Balcony
to look at some sunset Clouds, which she likened unto an Oliphant with a
Princess on its Back, and to Armies and Fairy Palaces and such-like, till
I told her if she span any more of her gold Cobwebs about me, I should be
unable to leave the Balcony. Without heeding me, she giveth a great Sigh,
and says, "There's one Thing I should like, that I know my Father would
forbid. Pshaw, _Ned!_ thou needs not look so surprise-stricken! 'tis but
to have my Fortune told, by a real Fortune-teller."
"And so double your Sorrows and deaden your Pleasures, Mistress?" say I.
"Ah, no, 'tis bad tampering with unlawful Quests."
And then I told her a Tale current in the Part of the Country I came
from, of a Lady who would dabble in Things supernal; and how her
Fore-knowledge, actual or phansied, bred in her such Impatience of her
present Lot and Greediness for Things to come, as to lead her to poison
her Husband. And how the Grass would ne'er grow over his Body, but left
the exact Outline of it, Arms, Legs, Feet, Hands, traced out a-top of
his Grave; as may be seen this Day: and how she, a likely and
well-favoured Woman, finding herself viewed askance by all, albeit no
Crime could be proven against her, did call on Heaven to make her as
thin as a Willowwand if she had any hidden Guilt upon her Soul; and how
from that self-same Day she peaked and pined, dwindled, and fell away,
till there was no Substance, so to speak, in her; for a Child might ha'
carried her, she was the Lightness of one of Mistress _Anne's_ satin
Slippers.
At the End of this Tale, Mistress _Anne_ drew a deep Breath, and, saith
she, "_Ned_, thou wert always a marvellous Recounter!—Tell me another
Tale, as moving as the last." So I told her another and another; till
the Stars began to come out; and a Singer in a Boat lying a little Way
off began to sing—
"_What though thine Eyes be like the Sun
That lights up all he looks upon_—"
"Whose can those be?" quod she. "Aye! whose, indeed?" said I. But I
thought I knew.—Thus, in honeyed Sweetness, lapsed Day after Day.
But it came to an End. I found at last, whether I would shut mine Eyes
or no, whether I would give Ear or feign Dullness, that I was seeing,
hearing Nothing but Mistress _Anne_. At first, I would not attend to
this; then said (in _Answer_ to Something,) "What Harm?" But yet
Something answered back again, There _is_ Harm. Then quod I, To whom?
There is none, nor never shall be to any save myself, and the only Harm
to me is the Pain; and if the Pain is a Pleasure, or I choose to bear it
and count it as such, where's the Harm and where's the Wrong?
But the Pleasure was gone. At least, there was so much Pain overlying
it, that it was crushed down and smothered, and struggling to get free
of its Burthen. Then I asked myself what this was about, and whither
could it tend, and what had I lost that I had had before, that made me
seem a different _Ned Osborne_? Also, why did I bring Shame on myself
and bring Master _Hewet's_ keen Observance on me by such and such a
Blunder in my daily Charge? Was his Eye altering towards me? Would it
not needs alter, did he wit the foolish, impossible Things I spent the
best (the _worst_) of my Time in dreaming of? Oh! my Heart would not
bear it! There was Something eating its Way into my Soul, as a Weevil
gnaws its Way into a Garner.
—No, this could not go on. I thought over it and took my Part; and
after watching and letting slip many Opportunities, I at length, in
Desperation, took the very first that came next, and stood beside Master
_Hewet_ at his Desk when I wist that no Other was or would soon be
within Earshot; and said, "Master, I must go."
"Whither, Lad?" quod he, surprised, yet kindly,—"On some Errand of
thine own about the Town?"
I tried to get back my Voice, it faltered so!—and said, "Away ... away
from here."
"Art ill?" quod he, laying down his Pen, and suddenly looking full at
me. "Dost thou want to go for a While into the Country?"
"No," I said, "I must go seek another Service."
"Another Service?" repeated he, with a yet more piercing Look.—"This is
strange ... and sudden. We thought you were so happy."
"I was," said I. "Only—"
"Only what?" And he waited: but I spake never a Word mo'.
"I see how it is!" cried he, suddenly growing red, "Master _Groggett_
hath tempted thee away from me, with Promise of higher Salary. Pitiful
Fellow! I wot he hath long envied me a faithful Servant. 'Tis against
our Company's Ordinance, to tempt a Man from his Master! Go, however,
since thou wilt, ungrateful Youth!—thy Fidelity hath been undermined;
thou hast never apprized our Kindness, hast never loved us!"
This unloosed my Tongue, and I said, "I have felt, if I have not
deserved your Kindness, Master _Hewet_. No one hath tempted, nor could
tempt me away, and I but seek to go for that I love you e'en too well."
"How can you love us too well?" quod he distrustfully.
—"_One_ of you," I said, faltering.
"_Anne_?" cried he. And saw it in my Face.
—"Well, Lad," quod he, softer, "no Need to blush scarlet nor weep,
where no Shame lieth. _That_ would be in _not_ loving her, I think. You
may love too much, you can't love too well."
"Too well for my Peace," quod I, turning my Head away—"You had better
let me go."
"Well, I think not," quod he, after a Pause of some Length. "Go to what?
To another House, where Everything will be worse for thee, save that
_Anne_ will be not only out of Reach but out of Sight. You must perforce
conquer yourself _then_, you know. Try to conquer yourself _now_."
"I don't think I can," I said; so huskily, that he made me repeat it
twice.
"You meant to try, I suppose," quod he, "when you spake of going away."
"Yes, Master."
"Well, try here:—for a little While, that I may think where to place
you. _Ned!_—I have had some Trial of thee; I have tested thee, and I
have trusted thee. Don't betray my Trust in this Matter."
I said, "I will not."
"And do thou," quod he, with all his old Kindness, "trust in me. I shall
do what, on Deliberation, I think best for you. And stay thyself with
this Reflection: that if thou wert the first Noble in the Land, sueing
for my Daughter, I would not, in these her so early Days, give her to
thee. Keep a brave, honest Heart, and take Things quietly. You have not
been such a Knave as to speak to her?"
"No, Master."
"Your Word is enough," quod he, and left me. I put my Head down on mine
Arms and shed hot Tears that had no Relief in them. Just then, I felt a
kind Hand laid with strong emphatic Pressure on my Shoulder. I kissed
it, in Sign of Reverence and Good-faith: he understood it for such, and
left me without a Word. And I went on mine Affairs with a lightened
Heart.