CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
WHAT THEY COULD.
A month had passed since the burning of the Canterbury martyrs. TheBishop of Dover had gone on a visit to London, and the land had rest inhis absence. It may be noted here, since we shall see no more of him,that he did not long survive the event. He was stricken suddenly withpalsy, as he stood watching a game at bowls on a Sunday afternoon, andwas borne to his bed to die. The occupation wherein the "inevitableangel" found him, clearly shows what manner of man he was.
In Roger Hall's parlour a little conclave was gathered for discussion ofvarious subjects, consisting of the handful of Gospellers yet left inStaplehurst. Various questions had been considered, and dismissed assettled, and the conversation flagged for a few seconds, when Tabithasuddenly flung a new topic into the arena.
"Now, what's to be done for that shiftless creature, Collet Pardue? Sixlads and two lasses, and two babes of Sens Bradbridge's, and fewer witsthan lads, and not so many pence as lasses. Won't serve to find 'em alldead in the gutter. So what's to be done? Speak up, will you, andlet's hear."
"I can't speak on those lines, Tabitha," replied her brother-in-law."Collet is no wise shiftless, for she hath brought up her children in agood and godly fashion, the which a woman with fewer brains than ladsshould ne'er have done. But I verily assent with you that we should dosomething to help her. And first--who will take to Sens Bradbridge'smaids?"
"I will, if none else wants 'em. But they'll not be pampered andstuffed with cates, and lie on down beds, and do nought, if they dwellwith me. I shall learn 'em to fare hard and be useful, I can tell you."
"Whether of the twain call you them syllabubs and custard pies as youset afore us when we supped last with you, Mistress Hall?" quietly askedUrsula Final. "Seemed to me I could put up with hard fare o' that sortmetely well."
"Don't be a goose, Ursula. They've got to keep their hands in,a-cooking, haven't they? and when things be made, you can't waste 'emnor give 'em the pigs. They've got to be ate, haven't they?" demandedMrs Tabitha, in tones of battle; and Ursula subsided without attemptinga defence.
"What say you, Tom?" asked Roger, looking at his brother.
Mr Thomas Hall, apparently, did not dare to say anything. He glanceddeprecatingly at his domestic tyrant, and murmured a few words, halfswallowed in the utterance, of which "all agree" were the onlydistinguishable syllables.
"Oh, he'll say as I say," responded Tabitha unblushingly. "There's noman in the Weald knows his duty better than Thomas Hall; it'd be a mercyif he'd sometimes do it."
Mr Thomas Hall's look of meek appeal said "Don't I?" in a manner whichwas quite pathetic.
"Seems to me," said Ralph Final, the young landlord of the White Hart,"that if we were all to put of a hat or a bowl such moneys as we couldone and another of us afford by the year, for Mistress Pardue and thechildre--such as could give money, look you--and them that couldn'tshould say what they would give, it'd be as plain a way as any."
"Well said, Ralph!" pronounced Mrs Tabitha, who took the lead as usual."I'll give my maids' cast-off clothes for the childre, the elder, Imean, such as 'll fit 'em; the younger must go for Patience and Charity.And I'll let 'em have a quart of skim milk by the day, as oft as I haveit to spare; and eggs if I have 'em. And Thomas 'll give 'em tenshillings by the year. And I shouldn't marvel if I can make up a kirtleor a hood for Collet by nows and thens, out of some gear of my own."
Mr Thomas Hall being looked at by the Synod to see if he assented,confirmed the statement of his arbitrary Tabitha by a submissive nod.
"I'll give two nobles by the year," said Ralph, "and a peck of barley bythe quarter, and a cask of beer at Christmas."
"I will give them a sovereign by the year," said Roger Hall, "and half abale of cloth from the works, that Master suffers me to buy at costprice."
"I can't do so much as you," said Eleanor White, the ironmonger's widow;"but I'll give Collet the worth of an angel in goods by the year, andthe produce of one of the pear-trees in my garden."
"I can't do much neither," added Emmet Wilson's husband, the baker; "butI'll give them a penn'orth of bread by the week, and a peck of meal atEaster."
"And I'll chop all the wood they burn," said his quiet, studious sonTitus, "and learn the lads to read."
"Why, Titus, you are offering the most of us all in time and labour!"exclaimed Roger Hall.
"You've got your work cut and measured, Titus Wilson," snapped Tabitha."If one of them lads'll bide quiet while you can drum ABC into his headthat it'll tarry there a week, 'tis more than I dare look for, I cantell you."
"There's no telling what you can do without you try," was the pithyanswer of Titus.
"I've been marvelling what I could do," said John Banks modestly, "and Iwas a bit beat out of heart by your sovereigns and nobles; for Icouldn't scarce make up a crown by the year. But Titus has showed methe way. I'll learn one of the lads my trade, if Collet 'll agree."
"Well, then, that is all we can do, it seems--" began Roger, but he wasstopped by a plaintive voice from the couch.
"Mightn't I do something, Father? I haven't only a sixpence in money;but couldn't I learn Beatrice to embroider, if her mother would spareher?"
"My dear heart, it were to try thy strength too much, I fear," saidRoger tenderly.
"But you're all doing something," said Christie earnestly, "and wasn'tour blessed Lord weary when He sat on the well? I might give Him alittle weariness, mightn't I--when I've got nothing better?"
To the surprise of everybody, Thomas had replied.
"We're not doing much, measured by that ell-wand," said the silent man;"but Titus and Banks and Christie, they're doing the most."
Poor Collet Pardue broke down in a confused mixture of thanks and tears,when she heard the propositions of her friends. She was gratefullywilling to accept all the offers. Three of her boys were alreadyemployed at the cloth-works; one of the younger trio should go to Banksto be brought up a mason. Which would he choose?
Banks looked at the three lads offered him--the noisy Noah, theungovernable Silas, and the lazy Valentine.
"I'll have Silas," he said quietly.
"The worst pickle of the lot!" commented Mrs Tabitha, who made one ofthe deputation.
"Maybe," said Banks calmly; "but I see wits there, and I'll hope for aheart, and with them and the grace of God, which Collet and I shall prayfor, we'll make a man of Silas Pardue yet."
And if John Banks ever regretted his decision, it was not on a certainwinter evening, well into the reign of Elizabeth, when a fine,manly-looking fellow, with a grand forehead wherein "his soul lodgedwell," and bright intellectual eyes, came to tell him, the humble mason,that he had been chosen from a dozen candidates for the high post ofarchitect of a new church.
"'Tis your doing," said the architect, as he wrung the hard hand of themason. "You made a man of me by your teaching and praying, and neverdespairing that I should one day be worth the cost."
But we must return for a few minutes to Roger Hall's parlour, where heand his little invalid girl were alone on that night when the conferencehad been held.
"Father," said Christie, "please tell me what is a cross? and say itlittle, so as I can conceive the same."
"What manner of cross, sweet heart?"
"You know what our Lord saith, Father--`He that taketh not his cross,and followeth Me, is not worthy of Me.' I've been thinking a deal on itof late. I wouldn't like not to be worthy of Him. But I can't take mycross till I know what it is. I asked Cousin Friswith, and she said itmeant doing all manner of hard disagreeable things, like the monks andnuns do--eating dry bread and sleeping of a board, and such like. Butwhen I talked with Pen Pardue, she said she reckoned it signified notthat at all. That was making crosses, and our Lord did not mentionthat. So please, Father, what is it?"
"Methinks, my child, Pen hath the right. `Take' is not `make.' We beto take the cross God layeth on our backs. He makes the crosses; wehave but to take them and
bear them. Folks make terrible messes bytimes when they essay to make their own crosses. But thou wouldest knowwhat is a cross? Well, for thee, methinks, anything that cometh acrossthee and makes thee cross. None wist so well as thyself what so doth."
"But, Father!" said Christie in a tone of alarm.
"Well, sweet heart?"
"There must be such a lot of them!"
"For some folks, Christie, methinks the Lord carveth out one great heavycross; but for others He hath, as it were, an handful of little lightones, that do but weigh a little, and prick a little, each one. And heknoweth which to give."
"I think," said Christie, with an air of profound meditation, "I musthave the little handful. But then, must I carry them all at once?"
"One at once, little Christie--the one which thy Father giveth thee; letHim choose which, and how, and when. By times he may give thee morethan one, but methinks mostly 'tis one at once, though they may changeoft and swiftly. Take _thy_ cross, and follow the Lord Jesus."
"There's banging doors," pursued Christie with the same thoughtful air;"that's one. And when my back aches, that's another, and when my headis so, _so_ tired; and when I feel all strings that somebody's pulling,as if I couldn't keep still a minute. That last's one of the biggest, Ireckon. And when--"
The little voice stopped suddenly for a moment.
"Father, can folks be crosses?"
"I fear they can, dear heart," replied her father, smiling; "and verysharp ones too."
Christie kept her next thoughts to herself. Aunt Tabitha and CousinFriswith certainly must be crosses, she mentally decided, and UncleEdward must have been dear Aunt Alice's cross, and a dreadful one. Thenshe came back to the point in hand.
"How must I `take up' my cross, Father? Doth it mean I must not grumbleat it, and feel as if I wanted to get rid of it as fast as ever Icould?"
Roger smiled and sighed. "That is hard work, Christie, is it not? Butit would be no cross if it were not hard and heavy. Thou canst not butfeel that it will be a glad thing to lay it down; but now, while Godlayeth it on thee, be willing to bear it for His sake. He giveth it forthy sake, that thou mayest be made partaker of His holiness; be thouready to carry it for His. `The cup which My Father hath given Me,shall I not drink it?'"
"There'll be no crosses and cups in heaven, will there, Father?"
"Not one, Christabel."
"Only crowns and harps?" the child went on thoughtfully. "Aunt Alicehas both, Father. I think she must make right sweet music. I hope Isha'n't be far from her. Perhaps it won't be very long before I hearher. Think you it will, Father?"
Little Christabel had no idea what a sharp cross she had laid on herfather's heart by asking him that question. Roger Hall had to fightwith himself before he answered it, and it was scarcely to her that hisreply was addressed.
"`Not as I will, but as Thou wilt.' `He knoweth the way that I take.'`I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee.'"
"Oh, Father, what pretty verses! Were you thinking perhaps you'd missme if I went soon, poor Father? But maybe, I sha'n't, look you. 'Tisonly when I ache so, and feel all over strings, sometimes I think-- Butwe don't know, Father, do we? And we shall both be there, you know. Itwon't signify much, will it, which of us goes first?"
"It will only signify," said Roger huskily, "to the one that tarrieth."
"Well," answered Christie brightly, "and it won't do that long. Ireckon we scarce need mind."
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
ONCE MORE AT HOME.
Up and down his garden--or, to speak more accurately, his brother'sgarden--strolled Mr Justice Roberts, his hands behind his back, on amild afternoon at the beginning of December 1558. His thoughts, whichof course we have the privilege of reading, ran somewhat in thisfashion--
"Well, 'tis a mercy all is pretty well settled now. Nothing but joy andwelcome for the Queen's accession. Every man about, pretty nigh, looksas if he had been released from prison, and was so thankful he scarceknew how to express it. To be sure there be a few contradictious folksthat would fain have had the old fashions tarry; but, well-a-day! theybe but an handful. I'll not say I'm not glad myself. I never did lovecommitting those poor wretches that couldn't believe to order. _I_believe in doing your duty and letting peaceable folks be. If they doreckon a piece of bread to be a piece of bread, I'd never burn them forit."
By this reflection it will be seen that Mr Justice Roberts, in hisheart, was neither a Papist nor a Protestant, but a good-natured Gallio,whose convictions were pliable when wanted so to be.
"I marvel how soon I shall hear of Tom," the Justice's meditations wenton. "I cannot let him know anything, for I don't know where he is; Irather guess at Shardeford, with his wife's folks, but I had a care notto find out. He'll hear, fast enough, that it is safe to come home. Ishouldn't wonder--"
The Justice wheeled round suddenly, and spoke aloud this time. "Saintsalive! what's that?"
Nothing either audible or visible appeared for a moment.
"What was that black thing?" said the Justice to himself. He wasanswered suddenly in loud tones of great gratification.
"Bow-wow! Bow-wow-wow! Bow-ow-ow-ow-ow!"
"Whatever!" said the Justice to the "black thing" which was careeringabout him, apparently on every side of him at once, leaping into the airas high as his head, trying to lick his face, wagging not only afeathery tail, but a whole body, laughing all over a delighted face, andgenerally behaving itself in a rapturously ecstatic manner. "Art thourejoicing for Queen Elizabeth too? and whose dog art thou? Didst come--tarry, I do think--nay--ay, it is--I verily believe 'tis old Jackhimself!"
"Of course it is!" said Jack's eyes and tail, and every bit of Jack,executing a fresh caper of intense satisfaction.
"Why, then they must be come!" exclaimed the Justice, and set off forthe front door, pursued by Jack. It is needless to say that Jack wonthe race by considerable lengths.
"Oh, here's Uncle Anthony!" cried Pandora's voice, as he came in sight."Jack, you've been and told him--good Jack!"
There is no need to describe the confused, heart-warm greetings on allsides--how kisses were exchanged, and hands were clasped, and sentenceswere begun that were never finished, and Jack assisted at all in turn.But when the first welcomes were over, and the travellers had changedtheir dress, and they sat down to supper, hastily got up by Margery'swilling hands, there was opportunity to exchange real information onboth sides.
"And where have you been, now, all this while?" asked the Justice. "Inever knew, and rather wished not to guess."
"At Shardeford, for the first part; then some months with Frances, andlately in a farm-house under Ingleborough--folks that Frances knew, goodGospellers, but far from any priest. And how have matters gone here?"
"There's nought, methinks, you'll be sorry to hear of, save only theburnings at Canterbury. Seven from this part--Mistress Benden, andMistress Final, Fishcock, White, Pardue, Emmet Wilson, and SensBradbridge. They all suffered a few weeks after your departing."
All held their breath till the list was over. Pandora was the first tospeak.
"Oh, my poor little Christie!"
"Your poor little Christie, Mistress Dorrie, is like to be less poorthan she was. There is a doctor of medicine come to dwell in Cranbrook,that seems to have somewhat more skill, in her case at least, than ourold apothecary; and you shall find the child going about the house now.He doth not despair, quoth he, that she may yet walk forth after a quietfashion, though she is not like to be a strong woman at the best."
"Oh, I am so glad, Uncle!" said Pandora, though the tears _were_ stillin her eyes.
"That Roger Hall is a grand fellow, Tom. He hath kept the works a-goingas if you had been there every day. He saith not much, but he can dowith the best."
"Ay, he was ever a trustworthy servant," answered Mr Roberts. "'Tis amarvel to me, though, that he was never arrest."
"That cannot I conceive!" said the Justice warmly. "The man hath pu
this head into more lions' mouths than should have stocked Daniel's den;and I know Dick o' Dover set forth warrants for his taking. It did seemas though he bare a charmed life, that no man could touch him."
"He is not the first that hath so done," said Mistress Grena."Methinks, Master Justice, there was another warrant sent out first--`Iam with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee.' There havebeen divers such, I count, during Queen Mary's reign."
"Maybe, Mistress Grena, maybe; I am not o'er good in such matters. ButI do think, Brother Tom, you should do well to show your sense of Hall'sdiligence and probity."
"That will I do, if God permit. But there is another to whom I owethanks, Anthony, and that is yourself, to have saved my lands and goodsfor me."
"Well, Tom," answered the Justice comically, "you do verily owe methanks, to have eaten your game, and worn out your furniture, and spentyour money, during an whole year and an half. Forsooth, I scarce knowhow you may fitly show your gratefulness toward me for conferring sogreat benefits upon you."
Mr Roberts laughed.
"Ah, it pleaseth you to jest, Anthony," he replied, "but I know fullwell that had you refused my request, 'tis a mighty likelihood I had hadneither house nor furniture to come to."
"Nay, I was not such a dolt! I marvel who would, when asked to spendanother man's money, and pluck his fruit, and lie of his best bed! ButI tell thee one thing, Tom--I'll pay thee never a stiver of rent formine house that I hold of thee--the rather since I let it to this newdoctor for two pound more, by the year, than I have paid to thee. I'mnone so sure that he'll be ready to turn forth; and if no, happy man bemy dole, for I must go and sing in the gutter, without Jack will give mea corner of his kennel."
"Jack's owner will be heartily glad to give you a corner of his kennel,Brother Anthony, for so long time as it shall please you to occupy it.Never think on turning forth, I pray you, until you desire to go, at theleast while I live."
"I thank you right truly, Brother Tom, and will take my advantage ofyour kindliness at least for this present. But, my young mistresses, Ipray you remember that you must needs be of good conditions an' youdwell in the same house with a Justice of Peace, else shall I be forcedto commit you unto gaol."
"Oh, we'll keep on the windy side of you and the law, Uncle Anthony,"said Gertrude, laughing. "I suppose teasing the life out of one's uncleis not a criminal offence?"
"I shall do my best to make it so, my lady," was the reply, in tones ofmock severity.
The rest of the day was devoted to unpacking and settling down, and muchof the next morning was spent in a similar manner. But when theafternoon came Pandora rode down, escorted by old Osmund, to RogerHall's cottage. She was too familiar there now for the ceremony ofwaiting to ring; and she went forward and opened the door of the littleparlour.
Christabel was standing at the table arranging some flosssilk--"slea-silk" she would have called it--in graduated shades forworking. It was the first time Pandora had ever seen her stand. Downwent the delicate pale green skein in Christie's hand, and where itmight go was evidently of no moment.
"Mistress Pandora! O dear Mistress Pandora! You've come back! Ihadn't heard a word about it. And look you, I can stand! and I canwalk!" cried Christie, in tones of happy excitement.
"My dear little Christabel!" said Pandora, clasping the child in herarms. "I am surely glad for thy betterment--very, very glad. Ay, sweetheart, we have come home, all of us, thank God!"
"And you'll never go away again, will you, Mistress Pandora?"
"`Never' is a big word, Christie. But I hope we shall not go again fora great while."
"Oh, and did anybody tell you, Mistress--about--poor Aunt Alice?" saidChristie, with a sudden and total change of tone.
"No, Christie," answered Pandora significantly. "But somebody told metouching thy rich Aunt Alice, that she was richer now and higher thaneven the Queen Elizabeth, and that she should never again lose herriches, nor come down from her throne any more."
"We didn't know, Mistress--Father and me, we never knew when it shouldbe--we only heard when all was over!"
"Thou mightest well bless God for that, my dear heart. That hour wouldhave been sore hard for thee to live through, hadst thou known itafore."
The parlour door opened, and they saw Roger Hall standing in thedoorway.
"Mistress Pandora!" he said. "Thanks be unto God for all His mercies!"
"Amen!" answered both the girls.
"Methinks, Mr Hall, under God, some thanks be due to you also,"remarked Pandora, with a smile. "Mine aunt and I had fared ill withoutyour pots and pans that time you wot of, and mine uncle hath beenringing your praises in my Father's ears touching your good managementat the cloth-works."
"I did but my duty, Mistress," said Roger, modestly.
"I would we all did the same, Mr Hall, so well as you have done," addedPandora. "Christie, my sister Gertrude saith she will come and seethee."
"Oh!" answered Christie, with an intonation of pleasure. "Please,Mistress Pandora, is she as good as you?"
Both Roger and Pandora laughed.
"How must I answer, Christie?" said the latter. "For, if I say `ay,'that shall be to own myself to be good; and if `no,' then were it tospeak evil of my sister. She is brighter and cheerier than I, andloveth laughter and mirth. Most folks judge her to be the fairer andsweeter of the twain."
"I shall not," said Christie, with a shake of her head; "of that am Ivery certain."
Roger privately thought he should not either.
"Well," said Christie, "I do hope any way, _now_, all our troubles beover! Please, Mistress Pandora, think you not they shall be?"
"My dear little maid!" answered Pandora, laughing.
"Not without we be in Heaven, Christie," replied her Father, "andmethinks we have scarce won thither yet."
Christabel looked extremely disappointed.
"Oh, dear!" she said, "I made sure we should have no more, now QueenElizabeth was come in. Must we wait, then, till we get to Heaven,Father?"
"Wait till we reach Heaven, sweet heart, for the land where we shall nomore say, `I am sick,' either in health or heart. It were not good forus to walk ever in the plains of ease; we should be yet more apt than webe to build our nests here, and forget to stretch our wings upwardtoward Him who is the first cause and the last end of all hope andgoodness. 'Tis only when we wake up after His likeness, to be with Himfor ever, that we shall be satisfied with it."
THE END.
All's Well Page 33
