by Anne Manning
CHAPTER IX
_Osborne is out of his Time_
I was out of my Time; and was examined by the Master and Wardens of ourCompany whether I had duly and faithfully served my Apprenticeship: andbeing found sufficient and allowed, was presented to the Chamberlain of_London_ to be made free; was sworn, and paid Two-and-sixpence.
I remember one of the Wardens eyed me rather curiously when I went up;and said, "So thou art young _Osborne_?" "Yea," quod the other, "theKnight of the Flying Leap!" an old Joke I thought every one hadforgotten. Howbeit they shook Hands with me, and said they wished everyMaster as good a 'Prentice.
Thereafter I went to see _Tomkins_, whom I had lost Sight of a longTime. His Wife was spreading a clean Diaper over the Table, his littleGirl playing with a Kitten on the Hearth, and a straggling Sunbeamthrough the Lattice was lighting up his pale, placid Face as he sate athis Loom. I have thought since, that ministering Spirits might have beenpassing to and fro on that Beam, unperceivable to my mortal Sense.
"Ha!" quod he, "this is a pleasant Sight. What! the blue Gown is thrownoff at last! But how? no Scallops? no Slashes? no Taffeta-lined Cloke,nor Shirt edged with Silver? Thou keepest within the Statute, at allEvents. Why, _Miles_ goes as fine as a Popinjay! Howbeit, I like yourdark brown better than his Eggs and Spinach; 'tis good Taste, Lad, notto dress above one's Degree. All the World can see which is theGentleman's Son, which the Burreller's."
"Thou art e'en too hard on poor _Miles_," quod I. "He is working veryhard just now in hope of marrying."
"All the better," saith _Tomkins_; "many a second-rate Fellow is madebetter by a first-rate Wife. What? is he thinking of _Tryphosa_?"
"Oh no," quod I, laughing, "he thinks her quite too old."
"Look you there now!" quod he, much amused, "too old, forsooth! To hearhow Boys talk! Marry, you must sup with us, and tell me aboutEverything; that is, if you can condescend to eat aught butManchet-bread in these grand Days. Step down to _Fishmongersrow_, dear_Dinah_, and fetch us a Crab."
"That's a long Step, _Tomkins_," observed his Wife, "would not SomethingI could get nearer do as well?"
"No," quod he gently, "I want a Crab, and I want it from thence; sooblige me, good _Dinah_."
"That I will," replied she, cheerfully, tying on her Hood, and departingthe next Minute with her Child in her Arms.
"I remember," quod _Tomkins_, laughing, "how you and _Miles_ played awayat the Crab on our Wedding-day. And if you spurn such homely Daintiesnow, you'll be Home in Time for your real Supper after all. 'Tis butThree o' the Clock."
"To hear you Talk," said I, "one would think we lived just now in_Lubberland_, where the Rivers run Gravy and Apple-sauce, and the roastPigs run about, saying, Come eat me."
"Why, is not Master _Hewet_ Sheriff?" quod _Tomkins_, "and doth he notride a gray Horse and wear a velvet Coat and a Jewel in his Cap? Sure,you must be steeped in Wassail and Feasting."
"Ah," quod I, "there's little real Mirth in it. Seldom do we see a Smilenow on Master _Hewet's_ Face ... Mistress _Anne_ is in the Country;Mistress _Fraunces_ does the Honours with all Grace, many People comeand go, new Servants wait, many fine Dishes are cooked and eaten; butthe Times are so bad, there is little Hilarity with it all."
"Aye?" quod he, lowering his Voice, "is't e'en so?" Then changing hisManner altogether, he rose, sate by the Fire, and pointed me to a Seatover-against him.
"_Ned_," saith he, "what is to be looked for, when the very Heavensabove, though without articulate Voice or Sound, proclaim comingJudgment? Two Suns shining at once i' the Firmament! The Bow of Mercy,not indeed withdrawn, but _reversed_; the Bow turned downward and thetwo Ends standing upward! Didst see it?"
I said, I did; it had puzzled the Wise and affrighted the Weak.
"Well might it do either or both," quod he. "Well! ... we shall see whatcomes of it. These Foreshadows are sometimes sent in Mercy, thatthoughtful People may prepare. 'Fearful Sights and great Signs shallthere be from Heaven.' 'And when these Things begin to come to pass,lift up your Heads, for your Redemption draweth nigh.' 'And he thatendureth unto the End, the same shall be saved.' 'Settle it therefore inyour Hearts not to meditate beforehand what ye shall answer; for _I_will give you a Mouth and Wisdom that all your Adversaries shall not beable to gainsay nor resist.' 'In your patience possess ye your Souls.'"
"_Tomkins!_" cried I, filled with sudden Admiration, "thou couldst notalways have thus quoted and applied the Bible!"
"Lad," quod he, "Times are altered. I don't suppose there was ever aquiet, fair-spoken Man nearer the Edge of the Pit of Destruction than Iwas, a few Years back. Just as I was trifling on the Brink, _a Child's_Voice called me back. _Ned!_ 'twas thine. I had known, for Months andYears, what 'twas to lie down with a Heart ill at Peace with GOD. Hethat is very glad to get into a good and safe Covert, will not waste hisTime in dallying with too curious Subtleties. Since I have gone the WayI should, Years have seemed like Days! I have tasted the _Life of Life_:yet never was more ready to lay it down at my Master's Feet! 'Tis all Ihave to give him!"
"I hope," said I, after a Pause, "there will be no Need."
"But what have we to expect?" quod he. "Here's the Mass and all itsMummery revived on every Hand, Mass Priests set in the Place of godlyPreachers, and good Men deprived and cast into Prison. _Philip_ of_Spain_ and Cardinal _Pole_ will presently sweep all before them, andmake a clear House on 't! Do you remember—but, peradventure 'twasbefore thy Time—Master _Chester_ coming to Master _Hewet_, and puttingit to him what he should do with a 'Prentice Lad of his, one _LawrenceSaunders_, whom he had overheard hard wrestling in Prayer, and foundwholly given to spiritual Contemplation and the reading of godly Books?Master _Hewet_ advised his cancelling his Indentures and sending him to_Cambridge_, which he did; and the good Youth did no small Credit to hiskind and enlightened Master. But, last _October_, _Ned_, he preached aSermon in _All-hallows'_ Church, the pure Doctrine whereof brought himinto Trouble; for _Bonner_ and the Chancellor called him a frenzy Fooland committed him to Prison, where he hath lain, in great hardness, eversince; nor will come forth, I fear me, except to be burned. Then there'sgood Bishop _Hooper_—"
"Ah," said I, "when he was committed to the _Fleet_ last _September_, hehad nothing for his Bed but a little Pad of Straw and a rotten Covering,with a Tick and a few Feathers therein, in a foul and unwholesomeChamber. And this we had from his Man _John Downton_, Brother to ourMaid _Damaris_; whereon Master _Hewet_ sent him Money and a good Bed."
"Then there's young _Hunter_ the 'Prentice," continued _Tomkins_, "wasbrought up for refusing to receive the Mass Communion this Easter. HisMaster contrived to send him down to his Father's at _Brentwood_, wherehe presently fell again into Trouble for reading of the Bible that layon the Clerk's Desk, and was set in the Stocks twenty-four Hours. Andthen they sent him up to _Bonner_, who set him in the Stocks at his ownGate for two Days and two Nights, with only a Crust of Bread and a Cupof Water; the Lad's young Brother all the while sitting by him. Then hewas cast into the Convict Prison, as heavily ironed as one of his tenderYears could bear, and hath lain there ever since, with a Halfpenny a Dayfor his Keep. Could you or I shew such Constancy, think you?"
"You might, but I could not," said I.
"_You_ might, but _I_ might not," sighed he—"not the Thing that willfollow."
And, suddenly thrusting his Hand into the very midst of the Fire, whichwas burning fiercely, he as suddenly plucked it out; turning on me aLook I shall never forget! It expressed the Anguish of a Man weighed inthe Balance and found wanting. We sate for a few Seconds in perfect andmost painful Silence; his Hand, in great Blisters, resting on his Knee.Suddenly I started up and laid my Hand on his Shoulder.
"_Tomkins_," cried I, "what are you thinking of?"
"I was thinking," returned he with filling Eyes, "how unworthy I was ofthe SAVIOUR that died for me."
"But your Hand! did not you feel the Smart?"
"My _Hand_?" cried he, starting and looking down upon it. "_No, not justthen!_
I'd forgotten it."
"See! see!" cried I, "what may be the Victory of the Spirit over theFlesh! What has been, may be again. As our Day, our Strength shall be."
The large Tears came into his Eyes. "_Ned_," quod he, "I will neverdoubt it again."
"And now," said I, "let me dress your Hand, for I know Something ofBurns." So I went out and got white Cotton Wool, and wrapped a great Padof it about his Hand, and tied it up neatly; and, just at that Time, hisWife came in with the Crab.
"Why, what's the Matter?" cried she, changing Colour.
"Nothing at all, my Love," returned her Husband cheerfully, "save thatI've burnt my Hand."
"Ah," said she, "you wist the Handle of the Kettle was loose.... I won'tpity you at all! _Is_ it a very bad Hurt, though?"
"Nothing to speak of," quod he.
"Forsooth, and you couldn't smile so, an' 'twere—only thou hast madesuch a great Bundle of it. Shall I tie it up neater for thee, Husband?"
"No, sweet Heart, it does well enough. So now for the Crab.... And soyoung Mistress _Anne_ is in the Country?"
"At the Hall," quod I, "with her Uncle."
"Ah," sayth he quietly, "the Squire hath two fair Sons ... I think shewill settle down there one of these Days."
