after a while the news didreach us that Mr. Genings had died of the small-pox, and left his wifein so distressed a condition, against all expectation, owing to debtshe had incurred, that she had been constrained to sell her house andfurniture, and was living in a small lodging near unto the schoolwhere Edmund continued his studies.
I noticed, as time went by, how heavily it weighed on my father'sheart to see so many Catholics die without the sacraments, or fallaway from their faith, for lack of priests to instruct them, like somany sheep without a shepherd; and I guessed by words he let fall ondivers occasions, that the intent obscurely shadowed forth in hisdiscourse to my mother on her deathbed was ripening to a settledpurpose, and tending to a change in his state of life, which only hislove and care for me caused him to defer. What I did apprehend mustone day needs occur, was hastened about this time by a warning he didreceive that on an approaching day he would be apprehended and carriedby the sheriff before the council at Lichfield, to be examinedtouching recusancy and harboring of priests; which was what he hadlong expected. This message was, as it were, the signal he had beenwaiting for, and an indication of God's will in his regard. He madeinstant provision for the placing of his estate in the hands of afriend of such singular honesty and so faithful a friendship towardhimself, though a Protestant, that he could wholly trust him. And nexthe set himself to dispose of her whom he did term his most dearearthly treasure, and his sole tie to this perishable world, which heresolved to do by straightway sending her to London, unto his sisterMistress Congleton, who had oftentimes offered, since his wife'sdeath, to take charge of this daughter, and to whom he now despatcheda messenger with a letter, wherein he wrote that the times were now sotroublesome, he must needs leave his home, and take advantage of thesisterly favor she had willed to show him in the care of his solechild, whom he now would forthwith send to London, commending her toher good keeping, touching her safety and religious and virtuoustraining, and that he should be more beholden to her than ever brotherwas to sister, and, as long as he lived, as he was bound to do, prayfor her and her good husband. When this letter was gone, and order hadbeen taken for my journey, which was to be on horseback, and in thecharge of a maiden gentlewoman who had been staying some months in ourneighborhood, and was now about in two days to travel to London, itseemed to me as if that which I had long expected and pictured untomyself had now come upon me of a sudden, and in such wise as for thefirst time to taste its bitterness. For I saw, without a doubt, thatthis parting was but the forerunner of a change in my father'scondition as great and weighty as could well be thought of. But ofthis howbeit our thoughts were full of it, no talk was ministeredbetween us. He said I should hear from him in London; and that heshould now travel into Lancashire and Cheshire, changing his name, andoften shifting his quarters whilst the present danger lasted. The daywhich was to be the last to see us in the house wherein himself andhis fathers for many centuries back, and I his unworthy child, hadbeen born, was spent in such fashion as becometh those who suffer forconscience sake, and that is with so much sorrow as must needs be feltby a loving father and a dutiful child in a first and doubtfulparting, with so much regret as is natural in the abandonment of apeaceful earthly home, wherein God had been served in a Catholicmanner for many generations and up to that time withoutdiscontinuance, only of late years as it were by night andstealth, which was linked in their memories with sundry innocent joysand pleasures, and such griefs as do hallow and endear the visiblescenes wherewith they be connected, but withal with a stoutness ofheart in him, and a youthful steadiness in her whom he had infectedwith a like courage unto his own, which wrought in them so as to be ofgood cheer and shed no more tears on so moving an occasion than thedebility of her nature and the tenderness of his paternal careextorted from their eyes when he placed her on her horse, and thebridle in the hand of the servant who was to accompany her to London.Their last parting was a brief one, and such as I care not to beminute in describing; for thinking upon it even now 'tis like to makeme weep; which I would not do whilst writing this history, in therecital of which there should be more of constancy and thankfulrejoicing in God's great mercies, than of womanish softness in lookingback to past trials. So I will even break off at this point; and inthe next chapter relate the course of the journey which was begun onthat day.
CHAPTER VI.
I was to travel, as had been ordered for our mutual convenience andprotection, with Mistress Ward, a gentlewoman who resided some monthsin our vicinity, and had heard mass in our chapel on such rareoccasions as of late had occurred, when a priest was at our house, andwe had commodity to give notice thereof to such as were Catholic inthe adjacent villages. We had with us on the journey two serving-menand a waiting-woman, who had been my mother's chambermaid; and soaccompanied, we set out on our way, singing as we went, for greatersafety, the litanies of our Lady; to whom we did commend ourselves, asmy father had willed us to do, with many fervent prayers. Thegentlewoman to whose charge I was committed was a lady of singularzeal and discretion, as well as great virtue; albeit, where religionwas not concerned, of an exceeding timid disposition; which, to my nosmall diversion then, and great shame since, I took particular noticeof on this journey. Much talk had been ministered in the countytouching the number of rogues and vagabonds which infested the publicroads, of which sundry had been taken up and whipped during the lastmonths, in Lichfield, Stafford, and other places. I did perceive thatgood Mistress Ward glanced uneasily as we rode along at everyfoot-passenger or horseman that came in sight. Albeit my heart washeavy, and may be also that when the affections are inclined to tearsthey be likewise prone to laughter, I scarce could restrain fromsmiling at these her fears and the manner of her showing them.
"Mistress Constance," she said at last, as we came to the foot of asteep ascent, "methinks you have a great heart concerning thedangers which may befall us on the road, and that the sight of arobber would move you not one whit more than that of an honest pedleror hawker, such as I take those men to be who are mounting the hill inadvance of us. Doth it not seem to you that the box which they docarry betokens them to be such worthy persons as I wish them toprove?"
"Now surely," I answered, "good Mistress Ward, 'tis my opinion thatthey be not such honest knaves as you do suppose. I perceive somewhatI mislike in the shape of that box. What an if it be framed to enticetravellers to their ruin by such displays and shows of rare ribbonsand gewgaws as may prove the means of detaining them on the road, anda-robbing of them in the end?"
Mistress Ward laughed, and commended my jesting, but was yet ill atease; and, as a mischievous and thoughtless creature, I did somewhatexcite and maintain her fears, in order to set her on asking questionsof our attendants touching the perils of the road, which led them torelate such fearful stories of what they had seen of this sort asserved to increase her apprehensions, and greatly to divert me, whohad not the like fears; but rather entertained myself with hers, in amanner such as I have been since ashamed to think of, who should havekissed the ground on which she had trodden.
The fairness of the sky, the beauty of the fields and hedges, themotion of the horse, stirred up my spirits; albeit my heart was atmoments so brimful of sorrow that I hated my tongue for itswantonness, my eyes for their curious gazing, and my fancy for itseager thoughts anent London and the new scenes I should behold there.What mostly dwelt in them was the hope to see my Lady Surrey, of whomI had had of late but brief and scanty tidings. The last letter I hadfrom her was writ at the time when the Duke of Norfolk was for thesecond time thrown in the Tower, which she said was the greatestsorrow that had befallen her since the death of my Lady Mounteagle,which had happened at his grace's house a few months back, with allthe assistance she desired touching her religion. She had been urged,my Lady Surrey said, by the duke some time before to do somethingcontrary to her faith; but though she much esteemed and respected him,her answer was so round and resolute that he never mentioned the liketo her any more. Since then I had no more tidings of her, who wasdearer to me than our brief a
cquaintance and the slender tie of suchcorrespondence as had taken place between us might in most caseswarrant; but whether owing to some congeniality of mind, or to apresentiment of future friendship, 'tis most certain my heart wasbound to her in an extraordinary manner; so that she was the continualtheme of my thoughts and mirror of my fancy.
The first night of our journey we lay at a small inn, which was heldby persons Mistress Ward was acquainted with, and by whom we wereentertained in a decent chamber, looking on unto a little garden, andwith as much comfort as the fashion of the place might afford, andgreater cleanliness than is often to be found in larger hostelries.After supper, being somewhat weary with travel, but not yet inclinedfor bed, and the evening fine, we sat out of doors in a bower ofeglantine near to some bee-hives, of which our hostess had a greatstore; and methinks she took example from them, for we
Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century Page 15
