CHAPTER ELEVEN.
TABITHA'S BASKET.
Of all the persons concerned in our story at this juncture, the leastunhappy was Alice Benden in Canterbury Gaol, and the most miserable wasEdward Benden at Briton's Mead. His repentance was longer this time incoming, but his suffering and restlessness certainly were not so. Hetried all sorts of ways to dispel them in vain. First, he attempted tolose himself in his library, for he was the rich possessor of twenty-sixvolumes, eight of which were romances of chivalry, wherein valiantknights did all kinds of impossibilities at the behest of fair damsels,rescued enchanted princesses, slew two-headed giants, or wandered formonths over land and sea in quest of the Holy Grail, which few of themwere sufficiently good even to see, and none to bring back to Arthur'sCourt. But Mr Benden found that the adventures of Sir Isumbras, or thewoes of the Lady Blanchefleur, were quite incapable of making him forgetthe very disagreeable present. Then he tried rebuilding and newlyfurnishing a part of his house; but that proved even less potent todivert his thoughts than the books. Next he went into company, laughedand joked with empty-headed people, played games, sang, and amusedhimself in sundry ways, and came home at night, to feel more solitaryand miserable than before. Then, in desperation, he sent for the barberto bleed him, for our forefathers had a curious idea that unless theywere bled once or twice a year, especially in spring, they would neverkeep in good health. We perhaps owe some of our frequent poverty ofblood to that fancy. The only result of this process was to make MrBenden feel languid and weak, which was not likely to improve hisspirits. Lastly, he went to church, and was shriven--namely, confessedhis sins, and was absolved by the priest. He certainly ought to havebeen happy after that, but somehow the happiness would not come. He didnot know what to do next.
All these performances had taken some time. Christmas came and passed--Christmas, with its morning mass and evening carols, its nightly waits,its mummers or masked itinerant actors, its music and dancing, its gamesand sports, its plum-porridge, mince-pies, and wassail-bowl. There werenone of these things for Alice Benden in her prison, save a mince-pie,to which she treated herself and Rachel: and there might as well havebeen none for her husband, for he was unable to enjoy one of them. Thefrosts and snows of January nipped the blossoms, and hardened the roads,and made it difficult work for Roger Hall to get from Staplehurst toCanterbury: yet every holy-day his pleasant face appeared at the windowof the gaol, and he held a short sympathising chat with Alice. Thegaoler and the Bishop's officers came to know him well. It is a wonder,humanly speaking, that he was never arrested during these frequentvisits: but God kept him.
"Good den, Alice," he said as he took leave of her on the evening ofSaint Agnes' Day, the twenty-first of January. "I shall scarce,methinks, win hither again this month; but when our Lady Day nextcometh, I will essay to see thee. Keep a good heart, my sister, and Godbe with thee."
"I do so, Roger," replied Alice cheerily. "Mistress Potkin here is arare comfort unto me; and God is in Canterbury Gaol no less than atStaplehurst. I would fain, 'tis true, have been able to come andcomfort Christie; but the Lord can send her a better help than mine.Give my loving commendations to the sweet heart, and may God reward theefor the brave comfort thou hast been to me all this winter! Farewell."
The next day, another and a less expected visitor presented himself. Atired bay horse drooped its weary head at the door of the Bishop'sPalace, and a short, thick-set, black-haired man, with bushy eyebrows,inquired if he might be allowed to speak with his Lordship. The Bishopordered him to be admitted.
"Well, and what would you, my son?" he asked condescendingly of theapplicant.
"An't like your Lordship, my name is Edward Benden, of Staplehurst, andI do full reverently seek the release of my wife, that is in your gaolfor heresy."
The Bishop shook his head. He had before now held more than oneinterview with Alice, and had found that neither promises nor threatshad much weight with her. Very sternly he answered--"She is anobstinate heretic, and will not be reformed. I cannot deliver her."
"My Lord," responded Mr Benden, "she has a brother, Roger Hall, thatresorteth unto her. If your Lordship could keep him from her, she wouldturn; for he comforteth her, giveth her money, and persuadeth her not toreturn."
"Well!" said the Bishop. "Go home, good son, and I will see what I cando." [This conversation is historical.]
If Mr Benden had not been in a brown study as he went into the Chequersto "sup his four-hours"--in modern phrase, to have his tea--and to givehis horse a rest and feed before returning home, he would certainly haverecognised two people who were seated in a dark corner of the innkitchen, and had come there for the same purpose. The man kept his hatdrawn over his face, and slunk close into the corner as though he wereanxious not to be seen. The woman sat bolt upright, an enormous, fullbasket on the table at her right hand, and did not appear to care in theleast whether she were seen or not.
"Is yon maid ever a-coming with the victuals?" she inquired in a ratherharsh treble voice.
"Do hush, Tabby!" said the man in the most cautious of whispers. "Didstnot see him a moment since?"
"Who? Dick o' Dover?"
"Tabitha!" was the answer in a voice of absolute agony. "Do, formercy's sake!--Edward."
The last word was barely audible a yard away.
Mrs Hall turned round in the coolest manner, and gazed about till shecaught sight of her brother-in-law, who happened to have his back to thecorner in which they were seated, and was watching two men play atdominoes while he waited for his cakes and ale.
"Humph!" she said, turning back again. "Thomas Hall, I marvel if therebe this even an hare in any turnip-field in Kent more 'feared of thehounds than you.--Well, Joan, thou hast ta'en thy time o'er thesecakes."
The last remark was addressed to the waitress, who replied with anamused smile--
"An't like you, Mistress, my name's Kate."
"Well said, so thou bringest us some dainty cates [delicacies].--Now,Tom, help yourself, and pass that tankard."
"Tabitha, he'll hear!"
"Let him hear. I care not an almond if he hear every word I say. He'llhear o' t'other side his ears if he give us any trouble."
Mr Benden had heard the harsh treble voice, and knew it. But he was ascomically anxious as Thomas Hall himself that he and the fair Tabithashould not cross each other's path that evening. To run away he felt tobe an undignified proceeding, and if Tabitha had set her mind onspeaking to him, utterly useless. Accordingly, he kept his backcarefully turned to her, and professed an absorbing interest in thedominoes.
The cakes and ale having received due attention, Mr Hall paid the bill,and slunk out of the door, with the stealthy air and conscious face of aman engaged in the commission of a crime. Mrs Hall, on the contrary,took up her big basket with the open, leisurely aspect of virtue whichhad nothing to fear, and marched after her husband out of the Chequers.
"Now then, Thomas Hall, whither reckon you to be a-going?" she inquired,before she was down the steps of the inn, in a voice which must havepenetrated much further than to the ears of Mr Benden in the kitchen."Not that way, numskull!--to the left."
Poor Thomas, accustomed to these conjugal amenities, turned meekly roundand trotted after his Tabitha, who with her big basket took the lead,and conducted him in a few minutes to the door of the gaol.
"Good den, Master Porter! We be some'at late for visitors, but needsmust. Pray you, may we have speech of Mistress Benden, within here?"
The porter opened the wicket, and they stepped inside.
"You're nigh on closing time," said he. "Only half-an-hour to spare."
"I can do my business in half-an-hour, I thank you," replied Tabitha,marching across the courtyard.
The porter, following them, unlocked the outer door, and locked it againafter them. To the gaoler who now received them they repeated theirerrand, and he produced another key, wherewith he let them into thewomen's prison. Alice and Rachel were talking t
ogether in the corner ofthe room, and Tabitha set down herself and her basket by the side of hersister-in-law.
"Good even, Alice!" she said, leaving her husband to see after himself,as she generally did. "We're a bit late, but better late than never, inespecial when the ship carrieth a good cargo. Here have I brought you acouple of capons, a roll of butter, a jar of honey, and another ofmarmalade, a piece of a cheese, a goose-pie baken with lard, a pot o'green ginger, and nutmegs. I filled up with biscuits and reasons."
By which last word Mistress Tabitha meant to say that she had filled theinterstices of her basket, not with intelligent motives, but with driedgrapes.
"I con you right hearty thanks, Sister Tabitha," said Alice warmly, "forso rich provision! Verily, but it shall make a full pleasant change inour meagre diet; for my friend here, that hath been a mighty comfortunto me, must share in all my goods. 'Tis marvellous kindly in you tohave thus laden yourself for our comforts. Good even, Tom! I am fainto behold thee. I trust you and all yours be well?"
"Maids lazy, Father 'plaining of pains in his bones, Christabel as iscommon, Roger well, Mary making o' candles," replied Tabitha rapidly."As for yon ill-doing loon of a husband of yours, he's eating cakes andsupping ale at the Chequers Inn."
"Edward here!" repeated Alice in surprised tones.
"Was when we came forth," said Tabitha, who while she talked was busyunlading her basket. "Hope your lockers 'll hold 'em. Time to close--good even! No room for chatter, Thomas Hall--say farewell, and march!"
And almost without allowing poor Thomas a moment to kiss his imprisonedsister, and beg her to "keep her heart up, and trust in the Lord,"Mistress Tabitha swept him out of the door in front of her, and with thebig basket on her arm, lightened of its savoury contents, marched himoff to the Chequers for the horse.
All's Well Page 11
