"So do I hope," said the priest. "But I give thee warning, Ursula
Felstede, that thy duty hath not been over well done ere this: and 'tis
high time thou shouldst amend if thou desire not to be brought to book."
Ursula dropped half-a-dozen courtesies in a flurried way.
"Please it, your Reverence, I am a right true Catholic, and shall learn
the children so to be."
"Mind thou dost!" said Sir John.
Dr Chedsey meanwhile had occupied himself in writing out an order for
the children to be delivered to Ursula, to which he affixed the seal of
the Commission. Armed with this paper, and having taken leave of the
Commissioners, with many protests that she would "do her duty," Ursula
made her way to the Castle gate.
"Who walks so late?" asked the porter, looking out of his little wicket
to see who it was.
"Good den, Master Style. I am James Felstede's wife of Thorpe, and I
come with an order from their Worships the Commissioners to take
Johnson's children to me; they be to dwell in my charge till the Black
Sisters shall send for them."
"Want 'em to-night?" asked the porter rather gruffly.
"Well, what say you?--are they abed? I'm but a poor woman, and cannot
afford another walk from Thorpe. I'd best take 'em with me now."
"You're never going back to Thorpe to-night?"
"Well, nay. I'm going to tarry the night at my brother's outside East
Gate."
"Bless the woman! then call for the children in the morning, and harry
not honest folk out o' their lives at bed-time."
And Style dashed the wicket to.
"Now, then, Kate! be those loaves ready? The rogues shall be clamouring
for their suppers," cried he to his wife.
Katherine Style, who baked the prison bread, brought out in answer a
large tray, on which three loaves of bread were cut in thick slices,
with a piece of cheese and a bunch of radishes laid on each. These were
for the supper of the prisoners. Style shouted for the gaoler, and he
came up and carried the tray into the dungeon, followed by the porter,
who was in rather a funny mood, and--as I am sorry to say is often the
case--was not, in his fun, careful of other people's feelings.
"Now, Johnson, hast thou done with those children?" said he. "Thou'd
best make thy last dying speech and confession to 'em, for they're going
away to-morrow morning."
Johnson looked up with a grave, white face. Little Cissy, who was
sitting by Rose Allen, at once ran to her father, and twined her arm in
his, with an uneasy idea of being parted from him, though she did not
clearly understand what was to happen.
"Where?" was all Johnson seemed able to say.
"Black Nuns of Hedingham," said the porter. He did not say anything
about the temporary sojourn with Ursula Felstede.
Johnson groaned and drew Cissy closer to him.
"Don't be feared, Father," said Cissy bravely, though her lips quivered
till she could hardly speak. "Don't be feared: we'll never do anything
you've told us not."
"God bless thee, my darling, and God help thee!" said the poor father.
"Little Cissy, He must be thy Father now." And looking upwards, he
said, "Lord, take the charge that I give into Thine hands this night!
Be Thou the Father to these fatherless little ones, and lead them forth
by a smooth way or a rough, so it be the right way, whereby they shall
come to Thy holy hill, and to Thy tabernacle. Keep them as the apple of
Thine eye; hide them under the covert of Thy wings! I am no more in the
world; but these are in the world: keep them through Thy Name. Give
them back safe to my Helen and to me in the land that is very far-off,
whereinto there shall enter nothing that defileth. Lord, I trust them
to no man, but only unto Thee! Here me, O Lord my God, for I rest on
Thee. Let no man prevail against Thee. I have no might against this
company that cometh against me, neither know I what to do; but mine eyes
are upon Thee."