CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
OUT OF HEART.
"Aunt Grena," said Pandora Roberts, "if it stand with your pleasure, mayI have leave to visit little Christabel Hall this fine morrow?"
"Thou shouldst, my dear heart, with my very good will," was the kindlyanswer; "but misfortunately, at this time I am not in case to accompanythee."
Pandora did not reply, but she looked greatly disappointed, when heraunt, Mistress Collenwood, suggested--
"Could not old Osmund go with her, Grena?"
"He might, if it were matter of grave concern," replied Mistress Grena,in a tone which indicated that the concern would have to be very graveindeed.
"Well, Dorrie, thou mayest clear those troubled eyes," said MistressCollenwood with a smile: "for I myself will accompany thee to visit thyfriend."
"You, Aunt Francis? Oh, I thank you!" said Pandora joyfully, passing ina moment from distress to delight.
In half-an-hour the horses were at the door. Not much was said duringthe ride to Staplehurst, except that Pandora told her aunt thatChristabel was an invalid child, and that her father was the manager atthe cloth-works. Christie, who of course was always at home, wasrejoiced to see her friend; and Mistress Collenwood inquired closelyinto her ailments, ending with the suggestion, which she desired mightbe conveyed to her father, that Christie should rub her limbs with oilof swallows, and take a medicine compounded of plantain water and"powder of swine's claws."
"Father's in the house," said Christie. "He had to return back for somepapers the master desired."
Roger Hall confirmed her words by coming into the room in a few minutes,with the papers in his hand which he had been sent to seek. He made areverence to his master's relatives.
"Master Hall," said Mrs Collenwood, "I would gladly have a word withyou touching your little maid's ailments."
Roger detected her desire to say something to him out of Christie'shearing, and led her to the kitchen, which was just then empty, as Nellwas busy in the wash-house outside.
"I pray you to bar the door," said Mrs Collenwood.
Roger obeyed, rather wondering at the request. Mrs Collenwood shortlytold him that she thought the oil of swallows might strengthenChristie's limbs, and the medicine improve her general health, but sheso quickly dismissed that subject that it was plain she had come forsomething else. Roger waited respectfully till she spoke.
Speech seemed to be difficult to the lady. Twice she looked up andappeared to be on the point of speaking; and twice her eyes dropped, herface flushed, but her voice remained silent. At last she said--
"Master Hall, suffer me to ask if you have friends in any other county?"
Roger was considerably surprised at the question.
"I have, my mistress," said he, "a married sister that dwelleth inNorfolk, but I have not seen her these many years."
He thought she must mean that Christie's health would be better in someother climate, which was a strange idea to him, at a time when change ofair was considered almost dangerous.
"Norfolk--should scarce serve," said the lady, in a timid, hesitatingmanner. "The air of the Green Yard at Norwich [where stood the Bishop'sprison for heretics] is not o'er good. I think not of your littlemaid's health, Master Hall, but of your own."
Roger Hall was on the point of asserting with some perplexity and muchamazement, that his health was perfect, and he required neither changenor medicine, when the real object of these faltering words suddenlyflashed on him. His heart seemed to leap into his mouth, then toretreat to its place, beating fast.
"My mistress," he said earnestly, "I took not at the first your kindlymeaning rightly, but I count I so do now. If so be, I thank you morethan words may tell. But I must abide at my post. My sister Alice isnot yet found; and should I be taken from the child"--his voice trembledfor a moment--"God must have care of her."
"I will have a care of her, in that case," said Mrs Collenwood."Master Hall, we may speak freely. What you are, I am. Now I have putmy life in your hands, and I trust you to be true."
"I will guard it as mine own," answered Roger warmly, "and I give youthe most heartiest thanks, my mistress, that a man wot how to utter.But if I may ask you, be any more in danger? My brother, and MasterWhite, and Mistress Final--"
"All be in danger," was the startling answer, "that hold with us. Butthe one only name that I have heard beside yours, is mine hostess of theWhite Hart."
"Mistress Final? I reckoned so much. I will have a word with her, ifit may be, on my way back to Cranbrook, and bid her send word to theothers. Alack the day! how long is Satan to reign, and wrong totriumph?"
"So long as God will," replied Mrs Collenwood. "So long as His Churchhath need of the cleansing physic shall it be ministered to her. Whenshe is made clean, and white, and tried, then--no longer. God grant,friend, that you and I may not fail Him when the summons cometh forus--`The Master calleth for thee.'"
"Amen!" said Roger Hall.
In the parlour Pandora said to Christabel--
"Dear child, thou mayest speak freely to me of thine Aunt Alice. I knowall touching her."
"O Mistress Pandora! wot you where she is?"
Pandora was grieved to find from Christie's eager exclamation that shehad, however innocently, roused the child's hopes only to bedisappointed.
"No, my dear heart," she said tenderly, "not that, truly. I did butsignify that I knew the manner of her entreatment, and where she hathbeen lodged."
"Father can't find her anywhere," said Christie sorrowfully. "He wentabout two whole days, but he could hear nothing of her at all."
"Our Father in Heaven knows where she is, my child. He shall not losesight of her, be well assured."
"But she can't see Him!" urged Christie tearfully.
"Truth, sweeting. Therefore rather `blessed are they that have notseen, and yet have believed.' Consider how hard the blessed Paul wastried, and how hard he must have found faith, and yet how fully he didrely on our Saviour Christ."
"I don't think Saint Paul was ever tried this way," said Christie in hersimplicity. "And his sister's son knew where he was, and could get athim. They weren't as ill off as me and Father."
"Poor old Jacob did not know where Joseph was," suggested Pandora.
"Well, ay," admitted Christie. "But Jacob was an old man; he wasn't alittle maid. And Joseph came all right, after all. Beside, he was alad, and could stand things. Aunt Alice isn't strong. And she hasn'tbeen nobody's white child [favourite] as Joseph was; I am sure UncleEdward never made her a coat of many colours. Mistress Pandora, is itvery wicked of me to feel as if I could not bear to look at UncleEdward, and hope that he will never, never, never come to see us anymore?"
"'Tis not wicked to hate a man's sinful deeds, dear heart; but we haveneed to beware that we hate not the sinner himself."
"I can't tell how to manage that," said Christie. "I can't put UncleEdward into one end of my mind, and the ill way he hath used dear AuntAlice into the other. He's a bad, wicked man, or he never could havedone as he has."
"Suppose he be the very worst man that ever lived, Christie--and Imisdoubt if he be so--but supposing it, wouldst thou not yet wish thatGod should forgive him?"
"Well; ay, I suppose I would," said Christie, in a rather uncertaintone; "but if Uncle Edward's going to Heaven, I do hope the angels willkeep him a good way off Aunt Alice, and Father, and me. I don't thinkit would be so pleasant if he were there."
Pandora smiled.
"We will leave that, sweet heart, till thou be there," she said.
And just as she spoke Mrs Collenwood returned to the parlour. Shechatted pleasantly for a little while with Christie, and bade her notlose heart concerning her Aunt Alice.
"The Lord will do His best for His own, my child," she said, as theytook leave of Christabel; "but after all, mind thou, His best is notalways our best. Nay; at times it is that which seems to us the worst.Yet I cast no doubt we shall bless Him for it, and justify all His wa
ys,when we stand on the mount of God, and look back along the road that wehave traversed. `All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth untosuch as keep His covenant and his testimonies.'"
Some such comfort as those words of God can give was sorely needed byRoger Hall. To use a graphic expression of his day, he was "well-nighbeat out of heart." He had visited all the villages within somedistance, and had tramped to and fro in Canterbury, and could hearnothing. He had not as yet hinted to any one his own terribleapprehension that Alice might have been removed to London for trial. Ifso, she would come into the brutal and relentless hands of BishopBonner, and little enough hope was there in that case. The only chance,humanly speaking, then lay in the occasional visits paid by CardinalPole to Smithfield, for the purpose of rescuing, from Bonner's noblearmy of martyrs, the doomed who belonged to his own diocese. And thatwas a poor hope indeed.
There were two important holy-days left in February, and both theseRoger spent in Canterbury, despite the warning of his impending arrestif he ventured in that direction. On the latter of these two he paidspecial attention to the cathedral precincts. It was possible thatAlice might be imprisoned in the house of one of the canons orprebendaries; and if so, there was a faint possibility that she might bebetter treated than in the gaol. Everywhere he listened for her voice.At every window he gazed earnestly, in the hope of seeing her face. Hesaw and heard nothing.
As he turned away to go home, on the evening of Saint Matthias', itstruck him that perhaps, if he were to come very early in the morning,the town would be more silent, and there might be a better likelihood ofdetecting the sound of one voice among many. But suppose she were keptin solitary confinement--how then could he hope to hear it?
Very, very down-hearted was Roger as he rode home. He met two or threefriends, who asked, sympathetically, "No news yet, Master Hall?" and hefelt unable to respond except by a mournful shake of the head.
"Well, be sure! what can have come of the poor soul?" added EmmetWilson. And Roger could give no answer.
What could have become of Alice Benden?
All's Well Page 18
