CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
BEHIND THE ARRAS.
"You had best make up your mind, Grena, whilst you yet may. This may bethe last chance to get away hence that you shall have afore--" MrRoberts hesitated; but his meaning was clear enough. "It doth seem me,now we have this opportunity through Master Laxton's journey, it werewell-nigh a sin to miss it. He is a sober, worthy man, and kindlybelike; he should take good care of you; and going so nigh toShardeford, he could drop you well-nigh at your mother's gates. Now Ipray you, Grena, be ruled by me, and settle it that you shall go withoutdelay. He cannot wait beyond to-morrow to set forth."
"I grant it all, Tom, and I thank you truly for your brotherly care.But it alway comes to the same end, whensoever I meditate thereon: Icannot leave you and Gertrude."
"But wherefore no, Grena? Surely we should miss your good company,right truly: but to know that you were safe were compensation enough forthat. True should be old enough to keep the house--there be manyhousewives younger--or if no; surely the old servants can go on as theyare used, without your oversight. Margery and Osmund, at least--"
"They lack not my oversight, and assuredly not Gertrude's. But youwould miss me, Tom: and I could not be happy touching True."
"Wherefore? Why, Grena, you said yourself they should lay no hand onher."
"Nor will they. But Gertrude is one that lacks a woman about her thatloveth her, and will yet be firm with her. I cannot leave the child--Paulina's child--to go maybe to an ill end, for the lack of my care andlove. She sees not the snares about her heedless feet, and would mostlikely be tangled in them ere you saw them. Maids lack mothers morethan even fathers; and True hath none save me."
"Granted. But for all that, Grena, I would not sacrifice you."
"Tom, if the Lord would have me here, be sure He shall not shut me up inCanterbury Castle. And if He lacks me there, I am ready to go. He willsee to you and True in that case."
"But if He lack you at Shardeford, Grena? How if this journey of MrLaxton be His provision for you, so being?"
There was silence for a moment.
"Ay," said Grena Holland then, "if you and Gertrude go with me. If not,I shall know it is not the Lord's bidding."
"I! I never dreamed thereof."
"Suppose, then, you dream thereof now."
"Were it not running away from duty?"
"Methinks not. `When they persecute you in one city, flee ye intoanother,' said our Lord. I see no duty that you have to leave. Wereyou a Justice of Peace, like your brother, it might be so: but what suchhave you? But one thing do I see--and you must count the cost, Tom. Itmay be your estate shall be sequestered, and all your goods taken to theQueen's use. 'Tis perchance a choice betwixt life and liberty on theone hand, and land and movables on the other."
Mr Roberts walked up and down the room, lost in deep thought. It was ahard choice to make: yet "all that a man hath will he give for hislife."
"Oh for the days of King Edward the First," he sighed. "Verily, wevalued not our blessings whilst we had them."
Grena's look was sympathising; but she left him to think out thequestion.
"If I lose Primrose Croft," he said meditatively, "the maids will havenought."
"They will have Shardeford when my mother dieth."
"You," he corrected. "You were the elder sister, Grena."
"What is mine is theirs and yours," she said quietly.
"You may wed, Grena."
She gave a little amused laugh. "Methinks, Tom, you may leave thatdanger out of the question. Shardeford Hall will some day be Gertrude'sand Pandora's."
"We had alway thought of it as Pandora's, if it came to the maids, andthat Gertrude should have Primrose Croft. But if that go--and 'tis notunlike; in especial if we leave Kent-- Grena, I know not what to do forthe best."
"Were it not best to ask the Lord, Tom?"
"But how shall I read the answer? Here be no Urim and Thummim to workby."
"I cannot say how. But of one thing am I sure; the Lord neverdisappointeth nor confoundeth the soul that trusts in Him."
"Well, Grena, let us pray over it, and sleep on it. Perchance we maysee what to do for the best by morning light. But one thing I pray you,be ready to go, that there may be no time lost if we decide ay and notnay."
"That will I see to for us all."
Mr Roberts and Grena left the dining-room, where this conversation hadbeen held, shutting the door behind them. She could be heard goingupstairs, he into the garden by the back way. For a few seconds therewas dead silence in the room; then the arras parted, and a concealedlistener came out. In those days rooms were neither papered norpainted. They were either wainscoted high up the wall with panelledwood, or simply white-washed, and large pieces of tapestry hung round onheavy iron hooks. This tapestry was commonly known as arras, from thename of the French town where it was chiefly woven; and behind it, sinceit stood forward from the wall, was a most convenient place for a spy.The concealed listener came into the middle of the room. Her faceworked with conflicting emotions. She stood for a minute, as it were,fighting out a battle with herself. At length she clenched her hand asif the decision were reached, and said aloud and passionately, "I willnot!" That conclusion arrived at, she went hastily but softly out ofthe room, and closed the door noiselessly.
Mistress Grena was very busy in her own room, secretly packing up sucharticles as she had resolved to take in the event of her journey beingmade. She had told Margery, the old housekeeper, that she was going tobe engaged, and did not wish to be disturbed. If any visitors cameMistress Gertrude could entertain them; and she desired Margery totransmit her commands to that effect to the young lady. That Gertrudeherself would interrupt her she had very little fear. They had fewtastes and ideas in common. Gertrude would spend the afternoon in theparlour with her embroidery or her virginals--the piano of that time--and was not likely to come near her. This being the case, MistressGrena was startled and disturbed to hear a rap at her door. Trustingthat it was Mr Roberts who wanted her, and who was the only likelyperson, she went to open it.
"May I come in, Aunt Grena?" said Gertrude.
For a moment Grena hesitated. Then she stepped back and let her nieceenter. Her quick, quiet eyes discerned that something was the matter.This was a new Gertrude at her door, a grave, troubled Gertrude, broughtthere by something of more importance than usual.
"Well, niece, what is it?"
"Aunt Grena, give me leave for once to speak freely."
"So do, my dear maid."
"You and my father are talking of escape to Shardeford, but you scarceknow whether to go or no. Let me tell you, and trust me, for myknowledge is costly matter. Let us go."
Grena stood in amazed consternation. She had said and believed that Godwould show them what to do, but the very last person in her worldthrough whose lips she expected Him to speak was Gertrude Roberts.
"How--what--who told you? an angel?" she gasped incoherently.
A laugh, short and unmirthful, was the answer.
"Truly, no," said Gertrude. "It was a fallen angel if it were."
"What mean you, niece? This is passing strange!" said Grena, in atroubled tone.
"Aunt, I have a confession to make. Despise me if you will; you cannotso do more than I despise myself. 'Tis ill work despising one's self;but I must, and as penalty for mine evil deeds I am forcing myself toown them to you. You refuse to leave me, for my mother's sake, to go toan ill end; neither will I so leave you."
"When heard you me so to speak, Gertrude?"
"Not an hour since, Aunt Grena."
"You were not present!"
"I was, little as you guessed it. I was behind the arras."
"Wicked, mean, dishonourable girl!" cried Mistress Grena, in a mixtureof horror, confusion, and alarm.
"I own it, Aunt Grena," said Gertrude, with a quiet humility which wasnot natural to her, and which touched Grena against her will. "But hearme out, I pray y
ou, for 'tis of moment to us all that you should so do."
A silent inclination of her aunt's head granted her permission toproceed.
"The last time that I went to shrift, Father Bastian bade me tell him ifI knew of a surety that you or my father had any thought to leave Kent.That could not I say, of course, and so much I told him. Then he bademe be diligent and discover the same. `But after what fashion?' said I;for I do ensure you that his meaning came not into mine head afore hespake it in plain language. When at last I did conceive that he wouldhave me to spy upon you, at the first I was struck with horror. You hadso learned me, Aunt Grena, that the bare thought of such a thing washateful unto me. This methinks he perceived, and he set him to reasonwith me, that the command of holy Church sanctified the act done for herservice, which otherwise had been perchance unmeet to be done. Still Iyielded not, and then he told me flat, that without I did this thing hewould not grant me absolution of my sins. Then, but not till then, Igave way. I hid me behind the arras this morning, looking that youshould come to hold discourse in that chamber where, saving for meat,you knew I was not wont to be. I hated the work no whit less than atthe first; but the fear of holy Church bound me. I heard you say, AuntGrena"--Gertrude's voice softened as Grena had rarely heard it--"thatyou would not leave Father and me--that you could not be happy touchingme--that I had no mother save you, and you would not cast me aside to goto an ill end. I saw that Father reckoned it should be to your own hurtif you tarried. And it struck me to the heart that you should bethinking to serve me the while I was planning how to betray you. Yet ifFather Bastian refused to shrive me, what should come of me? And all atonce, as I stood there hearkening, a word from the Psalter bolted inupon me, a verse that I mind Mother caused me to learn long time agone:`I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and so Thouforgavest the wickedness of my sin.' Then said I to myself, What need Itrouble if the priest will not shrive me, when I can go straight untothe Lord and confess to Him? Then came another verse, as if to answerme, that I wist Father Bastian should have brought forth in like case,`Whatsoever sins ye retain, they are retained,' and `Whatsoever ye shallbind on earth shall be bound in heaven.' I could not, I own, all atonce see my way through these. They did look to say, `Unto whom thepriest, that is the Church, denieth shrift, the same hath no forgivenessof God.' For a minute I was staggered, till a blind man came to help meup. Aunt Grena, you mind that blind man in the ninth chapter of SaintJohn's Gospel? He was cast forth of the Church, as the Church was inthat day; and it was when our Lord heard that they had cast him forth,that He sought him and bade him believe only on Him, the Son of God.You marvel, Aunt, I may well see, that such meditations as these shouldcome to your foolish maid Gertrude. But I was at a point, and an hardpoint belike. I had to consider my ways, whether I would or no, when Icame to this trackless moor, and wist not which way to go, with aprecipice nigh at hand. So now, Aunt Grena, I come to speak truth untoyou, and to confess that I have been a wicked maid and a fool; and ifyou count me no more worth the serving or the saving I have demeritedthat you should thus account me. Only if so be, I beseech you, saveyourself!"
Gertrude's eyes were wet as she turned away.
Grena followed her and drew the girl into her arms.
"My child," she said, "I never held thee so well worth love and care asnow. So be it; we will go to Shardeford."
All's Well Page 28
