I rose up and ran to the gate, where he sat on his horse.

"Well, _Milly_," saith he, "the shutters are up at _Mere Lea_."

"Ay, we know it, Doctor," said I, sadly.

"Poor maid!" saith he. "A life flung away! And it might have been so different!"

I said nought, for the tears burned under mine eyelids, and there was a lump in my throat that let me from speech.

"I would thou wouldst say, _Milly_," goeth on Dr _Bell_, "to my Lady and Mistress _Joyce_, that daft _Madge_ (as methinks) shall not pa.s.s the day, and she hath a rare fantasy to see Mistress _Joyce_ once more. See if it may be compa.s.sed. Good morrow."

I went in forthwith and sought Aunt _Joyce_, which spake no word, but went that instant moment and tied on her hood and cloak: and so did I mine.

'Twas nigh ten o' the clock when we reached old _Madge's_ hut.

We found daft _Madge_ in her bed, and seemingly asleep. But old _Madge_ said 'twas rather a kind of heaviness, whence she would rouse if any spake to her.

Aunt _Joyce_ leaned over her and kissed her brow.

"Eh, 'tis Mistress _Joyce_!" saith _Madge_, feebly, as she oped her eyes. "That's good. He's let me have _all_ I wanted."

"Art comfortable, _Madge_?"

"Close to th' gate. I'm lookin' to see 't open and _Mother_ come out.

Willn't she be pleased?"

Aunt _Joyce_ wiped her eyes, but said nought.

"Say yon again, Mistress _Joyce_," saith _Madge_.

"What, my dear heart?"

"Why, _you_," saith _Madge_. "Over seeing th' King. Dinna ye ken?"

"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, but ye ha' set her up some wi' that," saith old _Madge_. "She's talked o' nought else sin', scarce."

Aunt _Joyce_ said it once more. "'Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty: they shall behold the Land that is very far off.'"

"'Tis none so fur off now," quoth _Madge_. "I've getten a many miles nearer sin' you were hither."

"I think thou hast, _Madge_," saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"Ay. An' 'tis a good place," saith she. "'Tis a good place here, where ye can just lie and watch th' gate. They'll come out, they bonnie folk, and fetch me in anon: and _Mother's_ safe sure to be one."

"Ah, _Madge_! Thou wist whither thou goest," saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"Why, for sure!" saith she. "He's none like to send me nowhere else but where He is. Dun ye think I'd die for somebody I didn't want?"

She saith not much else, but seemed as though she sank back into that heavy way she had afore. But at last, when we were about to depart, she roused up again a moment.

"G.o.d be wi' ye both," said she. "I'm going th' longer journey, but there's t' better home at t' end. May-be I shall come to th' gate to meet you. Mind you dunnot miss, Mistress _Milly_. Mistress _Joyce_, she's safe."

"I will try not to miss, _Madge_," I answered through my tears, "G.o.d helping me."

"He'll help ye if ye want helpin'," saith Madge.

"Only He'll none carry you if ye willn't come. Dunna throw away good gold for dead leaves Mistress _Milly_. G.o.d be wi' ye!"

We left her there--"watching the gate."

SELWICK HALL, FEBRUARY YE XXVI.

This morrow, as I came down the stairs, what should I see but Aunt _Joyce_, a-shaking the snow from her cloak and pulling off her pattens.

"Why, _Aunt_!" cried I. "Have you been forth thus early?"

Aunt _Joyce_ turned on me a very solemn face.

"_Milly_," saith she, "_Madge_ is in at the gate."

"O _Aunt_! have you seen her die?"

"I have seen her rise to life," she made answer. "Child, the Lord grant to thee and me such a death as hers! It seemed as though, right at the last moment, the mist that had veiled it all her earth-time cleared from the poor brain, and the light poured in on her like a flood. 'The King in His beauty! The King in His beauty!' were the last words she spake, but in such a voice of triumph and gladness as I never heard from her afore. O _Milly_, my darling child! how vast the difference between the being 'saved so as by fire,' and the abundant entrance of the good and faithful servant! Let us not rest short of it."

And methought, as I followed Aunt _Joyce_ into the breakfast-chamber, that G.o.d helping me, I would not.

Note 1. For many years after the Reformation the use of fish was made compulsory in Lent, from the wish to benefit the fish trade. A licence to eat flesh in Lent (obtained from the Queen, not the Pope) cost 40 shillings in 1599.

CHAPTER NINE.

WALTER LEARNS TO SAY NO.

"Betray mean terror of ridicule,--thou shalt find fools enough to mock thee:--

"But answer thou their laughter with contempt, and the scoffers shall lick thy feet."

Martin Farquhar Tupper.

(_In Edith's handwriting_.)

SELWICK HALL, MARCH THE II.

Never, methinks, saw I any so changed as our _Milly_ by the illness and death of poor _Blanche_. From being the merriest of all us, methinks she is become well-nigh the saddest. I count it shall pa.s.s in time, but she is not like _Milisent_ at this present. All we, indeed, have much felt the same: but none like her. I never did reckon her so much to love _Blanche_.

I have marvelled divers times of late, what did bring _Robin Lewthwaite_ here so oft; and I did somewhat in mine own mind, rhyme his name with _Milisent's_, for all (as I find on looking) my damsel hath set down never a time he came. The which, as methinks, is somewhat significant.

So I was little astonied this afternoon to be asked of _Robin_, as we two were in the garden, if I reckoned _Milisent_ had any care touching him.