CHAPTER FIVE.
WILL JACKSON REAPPEARS.
Fortune May, the dairy-maid at Bentley Hall, came into the farmhouse atsupper-time that Sunday evening.
"Well, they're all gone," said she, "and the house shut up. They saythe Parliament 'll send folks down to take it some day this week, and'll give it to some of their own people."
"Ay, I hear Mr Chadderton, whose land joins the Colonel's, has appliedfor it," answered Farmer Lavender. "Though he's a Roundhead, he's afriend of the Colonel's, and I shouldn't wonder if he give it him backwhen King Charles comes in."
"That'll not be so soon, I take it," observed his mother.
"The time's out of joint," said the farmer. "I'd as lief not saywhat'll be or won't be."
"Jenny, I've a good jest to tell you," said Fortune, with a twinkle inher eyes. "I did not see you in time afore you left the Hall. You'llmind, maybe, that Robin and me and Dolly Campion went together to thegreen, Sunday even?"
Yes, Jenny did remember, and had been rather put out that Featherstoneshould prefer Fortune's company to hers, though a little consoled by thereflection that it was on account of her superior dignity.
"Well!" said Fortune, telling her tale with evident glee, "as we went upthe blind lane come a little lad running down as hard as ever he couldrun. `What's ado?' says I. `Mad bull! mad bull!' quoth he. Dolly wasa bit frighted, I think; I know I was. But will you believe it, Robin,he takes to his heels without another word, and leaves us two helplessmaids a-standing there. Dolly and me, we got over the gate into thestubble-field, and hid behind the hedge; and presently we saw some'ata-coming down the lane, but I thought it came mortal slow for a madbull. And when it got a bit nigh, lo and behold! it was Widow Goodwin'sold dun cow, as had strayed. There she was coming down the lane aspeaceable as could be, and staying by nows and thens to crop the grassby the roadside. We'd a good laugh at the mad bull, Dolly and me; andthen says I to Dolly, `Let's go and hunt out Robin.' So we turned back,but nought of him could we see till we came to the big bean-field, andthen a voice comes through the hedge, `Is he by, maids?' Eh, but he isa coward! Did you think he'd been so white-livered as that?" FarmerLavender laughed heartily. Jenny was exceedingly disgusted. She triedto persuade herself that Fortune's tale was over-coloured, perhapsspiteful. But one and another present chimed in with anecdotes ofFeatherstone's want of moral and physical courage, till disbelief becameimpossible.
"How will he get along in France, think you?" said Fortune. "They'venaught but frogs to eat there, have they?"
On that point the company was divided, being all equally ignorant. ButFarmer Lavender's good sense came to the rescue.
"Why," said he, "Jenny here tells me Colonel Wyndham's got a Frenchmanto his cook; and he'd make a poor cook if he'd never dressed nought butfrogs, I reckon."
"They'll have a bit o' bread to 'em, like as not," suggested thewaggoner.
"Well, I must be going," said Fortune, rising. "Jenny, what's come ofyour grand gown as Mrs Jane gave you? We looked to see you in it thisSunday. Folks 'll think it's all a make-up if you put it off so long."
"'Tisn't finished making up," said Kate, laughing.
"You'll see me in it next Sunday, if you choose to look," replied Jenny,in a rather affronted tone.
She was put out by Fortune's hint that the dress was considered afiction; and she was thoroughly annoyed by the story aboutFeatherstone's cowardly conduct. Bravery was one of the qualities thatJenny particularly admired; and she could not help feeling angry withFeatherstone for thus lowering himself in her esteem. She thought of itmany times during the week, when she was altering the flowered tabby tofit herself, and by the time that the dress was finished, Jenny's regardfor Robin Featherstone was about finished also. Love she had never hadfor him; but he had flattered her vanity, and she liked it.
The next Sunday morning came, and Jenny dressed herself in the floweredtabby, with a pink bow on her muslin tippet. With a gratified sense ofpride, she passed Fortune and Dolly Campion on her way up thechurchyard; not less gratified to hear their respective whispers.
"Well, it wasn't a make-up, then!" said Dolly, in a rather disappointedtone.
"Dear heart! isn't she fine?" responded Fortune.
Little did Jenny Lavender think, as she passed up the aisle to herfather's pew, that the Jenny who entered that church was never to leaveit again. There was a stranger in the pulpit that day--a man of a verydifferent sort from the usual preacher. He was an old man, and thestyle of his sermon was old-fashioned. Instead of being a learned andclosely-reasoned discourse, seasoned with scraps of Latin, or apolitical essay on the events of the day, it was a sermon such as hadbeen more common in the beginning of the century--simple, almostconversational, striking, and full of Gospel truth. Such a sermon JennyLavender had never heard before.
The text was Genesis, chapter 32, verse 26: "I will not let Thee go,except Thou bless me." The preacher told his hearers in a plainfashion, without any learned disquisitions or flowery phrases, whatblessing meant; that for God to bless a man was to give him, not what hewished, but what he really needed for his soul's welfare; that manythings which men thought blessings, were really evils, and that allwhich did not help a man towards God, only hurried him faster on theroad to perdition. He told them that Christ was God's greatestblessing, His unspeakable gift; and that he who received Him was intruth possessed of all things. When he came near the end of his sermon,he bent forward over the pulpit cushion, and spoke with affectionateearnestness to his hearers.
"Now, brethren, how many here this day," he said, "are ready to speakthese words unto the Lord? How many of you earnestly desire Hisblessing? What, canst thou not get so far, poor soul? Be thine handsso weak that thou canst not hold Him? Be thy feet so feeble that thoucanst not creep thus far up the ladder at the top whereof He standeth?Well, then, let us see if thou canst reach the step beneath--`Lord, Imost earnestly desire Thy salvation.' Or is this too far for thy footto stretch? Canst thou say but, `Lord, I desire Thy salvation,' howeverfeeble and faint thy desire be? Poor sinful soul, art thou so chainedand weak, that thou canst not come even so far? Then see if thytrembling foot will not reach the lowest step of all: `Lord, make me todesire Thy salvation.' Surely, howsoever sunk in the mire, andhowsoever blind thou be, thou canst ask to be lifted forth, and to havesight given thee. Brethren, will ye not so do? When ye fall to yourprayers this even, ere ye sleep, will ye not say so much as this? Yea,will ye not go further, and run up the ladder, and cry with a mightyvoice, `I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me'?"
When Jenny Lavender came out of church, she stood on the second step ofthe ladder. She scarcely heard Abigail Walker's taunt of "Well, if MrsJane did give her the gown, I'll go bail she stole that pink ribbon."Such things were far beneath one who had set foot on that ladder. AndJenny did not stay at the bottom; she ran up fast. By the time that sheknelt down at her bedside for her evening prayers, she had come to thefourth step--"I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me."
The last atom of Jenny's old admiration for Robin Featherstone, whichhad been already shaken, vanished that day. The Spirit of God, who hadtouched her heart through the preacher, led her to see that folly,vanity, and frivolity were utterly out of concord with Him. And thencame a feeling of regret for the unkind flippancy with which she hadtreated Tom Fenton. Jenny knew that Tom was a Christian man; it hadbeen one reason why she despised him, so long as she was not herself aChristian woman. There was a gulf between them now, and of her owndigging. Tom had given over coming to the farm except on business; hegave her a kindly "Good morrow!" when they met, but it was no more thanhe gave to Kate, or any other girl of his acquaintance; and Jenny sawnothing of him beyond that. On every side she heard his praises, as adoer of brave and kindly actions. She knew that, apart from the mereoutside, there was not a man to be compared to Tom Fenton in the wholeneighbourhood. It was bitter to reflect that the time had been when Tomwas ready to put himself and all
he had at her feet, and she had onlyher own folly to thank that it was over. No wonder Jenny grew graver,and looked older than she used to be. Her father was uneasy about her;he feared she was either ill or unhappy, and consulted his sensible oldmother.
"Nay," said Mrs Lavender, "Jenny's not took bad; and as for hersadness, it's just womanhood coming to her. Don't you spoil it, Joe.The furnace burns up the dross, and let it go! It won't hurt the goodgold."
"You don't think then, mother, there's any fear of the dear lass goinginto a waste, like?" asked Farmer Lavender anxiously.
"No, Joe, I don't; I'll let you know when I do. At this present I thinkshe's only coming to her senses a bit."
The old preacher appeared no more in the pulpit at Darlaston; but so faras Jenny Lavender was concerned, he had done the work for which he wassent there. Jenny had not a single Christian friend except old PersisFenton; and she kept away from Tom's aunt, just because she was hisaunt. She was therefore shut up to her Bible, which she readdiligently; and perhaps she grew all the faster because she was watereddirect from the Fountain-Head. Old Mrs Lavender was wise in a moralsense, but not in a spiritual one, beyond having a general respect forreligion, and a dislike to any thing irreverent or profane. FarmerLavender shared this with her; but he looked on piety as a Sunday thing,too good to use every day. So Jenny stood alone in her own family.
While all this was passing at the farm, Colonel Lane and Mrs Jane werespeeding, post-haste, to France. The Colonel explained to Featherstone,whom alone of his servants he took with him, that he and his sisterhaving had the honour of performing an important service to the King,their lives were in danger from the resentment of the Parliamentaryparty.
The King himself was now safe at Paris, where they hoped to join him;and on arriving there, if Featherstone wished to return home, he thoughtthere was no doubt that he could get a passage for him in the suite ofsome person journeying to England. If, on the contrary, he preferred toremain in France, the Colonel would willingly retain his services.
"I have entered into arrangements," he concluded, "whereby my rents willbe secure, and will be remitted to me from time to time while we remainin France. I trust it may not be long ere the King shall be restored,and we can go back with him."
Featherstone requested a little time to think the matter over. Hecertainly had no desire to leave the Colonel before reaching Paris, acity which he wished to see beyond all others.
"Ay, take your time," answered the Colonel. "My sister will provideherself with a woman when we arrive thither. In truth, it was not forher own sake, but for Jenny's, that she left her at home."
This conversation confirmed Featherstone in two opinions which healready entertained. First, he was satisfied that an understanding hadbeen arrived at between the Colonel and his friend Mr Chadderton,whereby the latter was to remit the Colonel's rents under colour ofkeeping the estates for himself. Secondly, he was more convinced thanever that Will Jackson had played the traitor, and that it was throughhim the Parliament had been made aware of the Colonel's service to theKing's cause, whatever it might be.
Dover was reached in safety, and the party embarked on board the_Adventure_ for Calais. It took them twenty hours to cross; and beforeten of them were over, Robin Featherstone would have been thankful to beset down on the most uninhabited island in the Pacific Ocean, with noprospect of ever seeing Paris or anything else, might he but have beensafe upon dry land. It was in a very limp, unstarched condition of mindand body that he landed on the Calais quay. Colonel Lane, an oldtraveller, and an excellent sailor, was rather disposed to make merry atpoor Robin's expense; for toothache and sea-sickness are maladies forwhich a man rarely meets with much sympathy.
They slept the last night at Saint Denis, where the Colonel encounteredan old acquaintance, an English gentleman who was just starting forParis, and who assured the Colonel that he should communicate the newsof his approach to the King.
"Truly, I am weary of horse-riding as I may well be," said Mrs Jane, asshe mounted the next morning, to traverse the eight miles which liebetween Saint Denis and Paris. "Poor little Jenny Lavender! 'tis well Ibrought her not withal; she would have been dog-weary ere we had wonthus far."
For this short distance Mrs Jane rode by herself, the Colonel mountinganother horse beside her. Featherstone followed, and a French youthcame last, conducting the baggage-horse. Rather more than half thedistance to the capital had been traversed, when a large cavalcade wasseen approaching. It consisted of a number of gentlemen on horseback,preceding one of the large cumbrous coaches then in common use, in whichsat two ladies and a little girl. The coach was drawn by six heavyFlanders mares, which went at so leisurely a pace that they could easilybe accompanied by a crowd of French sight-seers who ran before, behind,and all around them.
As soon as the two parties came within sight of each other, one of thegentlemen who preceded the coach rode forward and met the travellers,pulling off his hat as he came up to them. Featherstone perceived thathe was Lord Wilmot.
"How do you, Colonel Lane?" he said. "Mrs Jane, your most obedient! Ipray you be in readiness for the high honour which awaits you. HisMajesty comes himself to meet you, with the Princes his brothers, andthe Queen in her coach, desiring to do you as much honour, and give youas good a welcome as possible."
"We are vastly beholden to their Majesties," replied Colonel Lane,looking as pleased as he felt, which was very much: for the honour thuspaid to him was most unusual, and showed that the young King and hismother considered his service an important one. "Featherstone!" hecalled, looking back, "keep you close behind, or we may lose you."
Featherstone tried hard to obey, but found the order difficult ofexecution. The crowd was only bent on seeing the meeting, and cared nota straw whether Featherstone were lost or not. He knew not a word ofFrench, and was aware that if he did lose his master, he would probablyhave no little trouble in finding him again. Moreover, he was verycurious to see the King--partly on Kate Lavender's principle, ofafterwards having it to talk about. Just at that awkward moment hishorse took to curvetting, and he had enough to do to manage him. He wasvaguely conscious that one of the riders, who sat on a fine black horse,had come forward beyond the rest, and was cordially shaking hands withMrs Jane and the Colonel. He heard this gentleman say, "Welcome, mylife, my fair preserver!" and dimly fancied that the voice was familiar.Then, having reduced his horse to decent behaviour, he lifted up hiseyes and saw--Will Jackson.
Will Jackson, and none other, though now clad in very different garb!He it was who sat that black barb so royally; the King's plumed hat wasin his left hand, while the right held that of Mrs Jane. It was atWill Jackson's words of thanks that she was smiling with such delight;it was he before whom Colonel Lane bent bare-headed to his saddlebow.The awkward lout who had never been in a gentleman's service, theignorant clown, fresh from the plough-tail, the Roundhead, the traitor,had all vanished as if they had never been, and in their stead was KingCharles the Second, smilingly complimenting the friends to whose careand caution he owed his safety. If the earth would have opened andswallowed him up, Featherstone thought he would have been thankful. Buta worse ordeal was before him. As he sat on his now quiet horse, gazingopen-mouthed and open-eyed, the King saw him, and the old twinkle, whichFeatherstone knew, came into the dark eyes.
"Ha! I see an old friend yonder," said he comically. "I pray you,fetch my fellow-servant up to speak with me."
Poor Featherstone was laid hold of, pulled off his horse, and pushedforward close to that of the King.
"How do, Robin?" asked the merry monarch, who heartily enjoyed a littleaffair of this sort. "Nay, look not so scared, man--I am not about tocut off thine head."
Featherstone contrived to mumble out something in which "forgive" wasthe only word audible.
"Forgive thee! what for?" said King Charles. "For that thou knewest menot, and tookest me for a Roundhead? Why, man, it was just then thefinest service thou couldst have done me.
I have nought to forgive theefor save a glass of the best ale ever I drank, that thou drewest for meat breakfast on the morrow of my departing. Here, some of you"--HisMajesty plunged both hands in turn into his pockets, and, as usual,found them empty. "What a plague is this money! Can none of you lendme a few louis?"
The pockets of the suite proved to be almost as bare as those of theKing. The Duke of Hamilton managed to find a half-louis (which he wellknew he should never see again); Queen Henrietta was applied to in hercoach, but in vain, as she either had no money, or did not choose toproduce it, well knowing her son's extravagance and thoughtlessness.Colonel Lane had a sovereign, which he furnished. The King held themout to Featherstone.
"There!" he said, "keep somewhat for thyself, and give somewhat to thelittle dairy-maid that took my part, and would have had me knock theedown. Tell her she'll make a brave soldier for my Guards, when all themen are killed. Divide it as thou wilt. Nay, but I must have a tokenfor pretty Mrs Jenny." His Majesty cast his eyes about, and they fellon his plumed hat. Without a minute's consideration he loosened thediamond buckle. "Give her that," said he, "and tell her the Kingheartily agrees with her that Will Jackson's an ill-looking fellow."
It was just like King Charles to give away a diamond buckle, whenneither he nor his suite had money to pay for necessaries. RobinFeatherstone stepped back into the crowd, where he was pretty wellhustled and pushed about before he regained his horse; but he managed tokeep fast hold of the money and the diamond clasp. He was rathertroubled what to do with them. The jewel had so pointedly been intendedfor Jenny, that he could scarcely help dealing rightly in that instance;but the division of the money was not so clear. A man who was just andgenerous would have given the sovereign to Fortune, and have kept thehalf-louis (worth about 8 shillings 6 pence) for himself; but Featherstone was not generous, and not particularly anxious to be just. Theportion to be appropriated to Fortune dwindled in his thoughts, until itreached half-a-crown, and there for very shame's sake it stayed.
"And why not?" demanded Mr Featherstone of his conscience, when it madea feeble remonstrance. "Did not His Majesty say, `Divide it as thoulist'? Pray who am I, that I am not to obey His Majesty?"
Had His Majesty's order been a little less in accordance with his owninclinations, perhaps Mr Featherstone would not have found it soincumbent on him to obey it. It is astonishing how easy a virtuebecomes when it runs alongside a man's interest and choice.Featherstone had never learned self-denial; and that is a virtue nearlyas hard to exercise without practice as it would be to play a tune on amusical instrument which the player had never handled before. In thatwonderful allegory, the _Holy War_--which is less read than itscompanion, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, but deserves it quite as much--Bunyan represents Self-Denial as a plain citizen of Mansoul, of whomPrince Immanuel made first a captain, and then a lord. But he wouldnever have been selected for either honour, if he had not first done hisunobtrusive duty as a quiet citizen. Self-denial and self-control arenot commonly admired virtues just now. Yet he is a very poor man whohas not these most valuable possessions.
Robin Featherstone stayed with the Colonel just as long as it suitedhimself, and until he had exhausted such pleasures as he could have inParis without knowing a word of the French language, which he was toolazy to learn. What a vast amount of good, not to speak of pleasure,men lose by laziness! When this point was reached, Featherstone toldthe Colonel that he wished to return to England; and Colonel Lane, who,happily for himself, was not lazy, set things in train, and procured forRobert a passage to England in the service of a gentleman who was goinghome.
"I wonder how little Jenny's going on," said our idle friend to himself,as he drew near Bentley. "I might do worse than take little Jenny. Ionly hope she hasn't taken up with that clod-hopper Fenton while I'vebeen away, for want of a better. I almost think I'll have her. DollyCampion's like to have more money, 'tis true; but it isn't so much more,and she's got an ugly temper with it. I shouldn't like a wife with atemper--I've a bit too much myself; and two fires make it rather hot ina house. (Mr Featherstone did not trouble himself to wonder how farJenny, or any other woman, might like a husband with a temper.) Ay, Ithink I'll take Jenny--all things considered. I might look about me abit first, though. There's no hurry."
CHAPTER SIX.
WHEREIN JENNY MAKES HER LAST MISTAKE.
"I marvel Tom and Jenny Lavender doesn't make it up," said PersisFenton, as she laid the white cloth for supper on her little table."Here's Jenny got a fine sensible young woman, with God's grace in herheart (more than ever I looked for), and Tom goes on living in thatcottage all by his self, and never so much as casts an eye towards her--and that fond of her as he'd used to be, afore, too! Tony, man, don'tyou think it's a bit queer?"
"I think," said old Anthony, looking up from his big Bible, which he wasreading by the fireside, "I think, Persis, we'd best leave the Lord togovern His own world. He hasn't forgot that Tom's in it, I reckon, norJenny neither."
"Well, no--but one'd like to help a bit," said Persis, lifting off thepan to dish up her green pudding, which was made of suet andbread-crumbs, marigolds and spinach, eggs and spice.
"Folks as thinks they're helping sometimes hinders," replied Anthony,quietly taking off his great horn spectacles, and putting them away inthe case.
"Tell you what, Tony, I hate to see anything wasted," resumed Persis,after grace had been said. "If there's only an end of thread over, Ican't abear to cast it away; I wind it on an old bobbin, thinking it'llcome in some time."
"The Lord never wastes nothing, wife," was Anthony's answer. "See howHe grows plants in void places, and clothes the very ruins withgreenery. It's always safe to trust Him with a man's life."
"Ay," half assented Persis, "but it do seem a waste like of them youngthings' happiness."
"Where didst thou ever read in the Word, Persis, as happiness was thefirst thing for a man to look to? The Lord's glory comes first, andthen usefulness to our fellows, a long way afore happiness. Bless theLord, He do make it happy work for man to seek His glory--and that'swhat Tom doth. I'll trust the Lord to see to his happiness."
Just as the green puddings came out of the pan, Tom Fenton turned intothe lane leading up to his own home, having been engaged in delivering awork-table that he had made for the Vicar's wife. It was a beautifulday at the end of October, very warm for the time of year, and the sunwas near its setting. As Tom came to a turn in the lane, he saw a shortdistance before him, up a bye-road which led past Farmer Lavender'shouse, a solitary girlish figure, walking slowly, and now and thenstopping to gather something from the bank. A slight quickening of hissteps, and a turn into the bye-road, soon brought him up with thesolitary walker.
"Good even, Jenny!"
"Good even, Tom!"
For some seconds they walked abreast without any further speech. ThenTom said--
"I've just been up to parson's."
"Oh, have you?" replied Jenny, a little nervously.
"Their Dorcas saith she's heard as Featherstone's back."
"Is he so?" said Jenny, in a still more constrained tone.
"Didn't like it in France, from what she heard."
"Very like not," murmured Jenny.
"He's got a place with Mr Chadderton--the young gentleman who wasmarried of late, and who's coming to live at Bentley Hall; so you'relike to see a bit of him again."
"I don't want to see him," said Jenny suddenly. "I'd as lief he didn'tcome nigh me."
"You was used to like him middling well wasn't you, Jenny?"
Before Jenny could answer, the very person of whom they were speakingappeared at a turn of the lane, coming towards them.
"Mrs Jenny Lavender, as I live!" said he. "Now, this is luck! I wason my way to the farm--"
"With your back to it?" asked Tom.
Mr Featherstone ignored both Tom and the question.
"Mrs Jenny, since I had the delight of sunning myself in your faireyes, I have had the
high honour of beholding His Most Gracious MajestyKing Charles, who was pleased to command me to deliver into your whitehands a jewel which His Majesty detached from his own hat. He--"
"Me!" exclaimed Jenny, in so astounded a tone as to remind Featherstonethat he was beginning his story at the wrong end.
"Oh, of course you know not," he said, a little put out, for his speechhad been carefully studied, though he had forgotten the peroration,"that His Majesty is Will Jackson. I mean, Will Jackson was HisMajesty. At least--"
"Are you quite sure you know what you do mean, Mr Featherstone?"demanded Tom. "Sounds as if you'd got a bit mixed up, like. Is it theKing you've seen, or is't Will Jackson?"
Tom rather suspected that Featherstone was not quite sober. But he was,though between annoyance and self-exaltation he was behaving ratheroddly.
"Look here!" he said angrily, holding out the diamond clasp. "Was WillJackson like to give me such as this for Mrs Jenny? I tell you, HisMajesty the King gave it me with his own hand."
Suddenly Tom's conscience spoke. "Are you acting like a Christian man,Tom Fenton?" it said. "Have you any right to work Featherstone up intoa passion, however foolish he may have been? Is that charitable? is itChrist-like?"
"Very good, Mr Featherstone," said Tom quietly.
"I ask your pardon, and I'll relieve you of my company. Good night--Good night, Jenny."
Jenny could have cried with disappointment. She was afraid that Tom wasvexed with her, and wholly unwilling to be left to the society ofFeatherstone. As to the diamond buckle, she did not half believe thestory. Tom's action, however, had its effect upon Featherstone.
"Don't you believe me, Mrs Jenny?" he said more gently. "I doubt I'vemade a mess of my story, but 'tis really true. Will Jackson was theKing himself in disguise, and he bade me bring that to you, and tell youthat he entirely agreed with you that Will was an ill-looking fellow."
When Jenny really understood the truth, she was overwhelmed. Was itpossible that she had actually told King Charles to his face that sheconsidered him ugly? Of course she was pleased with the gift in itself,and with his kindly pardon of her impertinence.
"But, eh dear!" she said, turning round the clasp, which flashed andglistened as it was moved, "such as this isn't fit for the likes of me!"
Farmer Lavender was exceedingly pleased to see the clasp and hear itsstory, and in his exultation gave Featherstone a general invitation to"turn in and see them whenever he'd a mind."
"Why, Jenny!" cried Kate, "you'll have to hand that down to yourgrandchildren!"
Jenny only smiled faintly as she went upstairs. She liked the clasp,and she liked the gracious feeling which had sent it; but what reallyoccupied her more than either was a distressed fear that she hadoffended Tom Fenton. He never came to the farm now. The only hope shehad of seeing him lay in an accidental meeting.
Sunday came, and Jenny dressed herself in the flowered tabby, tying hertippet this time with blue ribbons. When she came into the kitchenready to go to church, her sister's eyes scanned her rather curiously."Why, Jenny, where's your clasp?"
"What clasp?" asked Jenny innocently. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
"What clasp!" repeated Kate, with a burst of laughter. "Why, the claspKing Charles sent you, for sure. Have you got so many diamond claspsyou can't tell which it is?"
"Oh!--Why, Kate, I couldn't put it on."
"What for no? If a King sent me a diamond, I'd put it on, you take myword for it!--ay, and where it'd show too."
"I'd rather not," said Jenny in a low voice. "Not for church, anyhow."
"Going to save it for your wedding-day?" Jenny felt very littleinclined for jests; the rather since she was beginning to feel extremelydoubtful if she would ever have any wedding-day at all. She feltinstinctively that a jewel such as King Charles's clasp was not fit forher to wear. Tom would not like to see it, she well knew; he detestedanything which looked like ostentation. And, perhaps, Christ would notlike it too. Would it not interfere with the wearing of that otherornament of a meek and quiet spirit, with which He desired Hishandmaidens to adorn themselves? Jenny resolved that she would not puton the clasp.
"No, Kate, I shouldn't like to wear it," she said quietly. "I've got itput by safe, and you can see it whenever you have a mind: but it's bestthere."
"Thou'rt right, my lass," said old Mrs Lavender.
"Well, I shouldn't like you to lose it, of course," admitted Kate.
Jenny fancied, and with a heavy heart, that Tom carefully avoidedspeaking to her in the churchyard. Old Anthony and Persis had a kindword for her, but though Tom went away in their company, carrying hisaunt's books, he never came up to speak with Jenny. It distressed herthe more because Kate said afterwards:
"Have you had words with Tom Fenton, Jenny? I asked him if he'd agrudge against you, that he never spoke."
"What did he say?" asked Jenny quickly.
"He didn't say neither yea nor nay," answered Kate, laughing.
The afternoon brought several young people, and there was, as usual,plenty of mirth and chatter. Jenny felt utterly out of tune for it, andslipped out of the back door into the lane. She went slowly up, feelingvery low-spirited, and wondering what God was going to do with her.When she came to the gate of the bean-field--the place where Tom hadovertaken her a few evenings before--she stopped, and resting her armsupon the gate, watched the sun sinking slowly to the west. Thinkingherself quite alone, she said aloud, sorrowfully--"Oh dear! I wonder ifI've never done anything but make mistakes all my life!"
"Ay, we made one the other night, didn't we?" said a voice behind her.
Jenny kept her start to herself.
"Yes, we did, Tom," she replied soberly.
"I've made a many afore now," said Tom gravely.
"Not so many as me," answered Jenny, sorrowfully.
"Tell me your biggest, Jenny, and you shall hear mine."
"There's no doubt of that, Tom. The biggest mistake ever I made waswhen I fancied God's service was all gloom and dismalness."
"Right you are, Jenny. That's about the biggest anybody can make. Butwhat was the second, now?"
"Oh look, Tom, those, lovely colours!" cried Jenny, suddenly seized witha fervent admiration for the sunset. "Them red streaks over the gold,and the purple away yonder--isn't it beautiful?"
"It is, indeed. But that second mistake, Jenny?"
"Nay, I was to hear your biggest, you know," said Jenny slily.
"Well, Jenny, the biggest mistake ever I made, next after that biggestof all that you spoke of just now--was to fancy that I could forgetJenny Lavender, my old love."
Two hours afterwards, the door of old Anthony's cottage opened about aninch.
"Uncle Anthony, are you there?"
"Ay, lad. Come in, Tom."
"Don't want to come in. I only want to tell you that the Lord's givenme back the greatest thing I ever gave up for Him."
Old Anthony understood in a moment.
"Ay so, Tom? I'm fain for thee. And thou'lt be glad all thy life long,my lad, that thou waited for the Lord to give it thee, and didn't snatchit like out of His hand. We're oft like children, that willn't waittill the fruit be ripe, but makes theirselves ill by eating it green.And when folks does that, there's no great pleasure in the eating, and adeal of pain at after."
"That's true. Well, good night, Uncle Anthony. I thought I'd just letyou know."
"I'm right glad to know it, my dear lad. Good night, and God blessthee!"
It was not for nine years that the Lanes came back to Bentley Hall.Their lives would have been in danger had they done so at an earlierdate. They came back with King Charles--when Oliver Cromwell was dead,and his son Richard had shown himself unfit to govern, and a season ofgeneral tumult and uncertainty had brought England into readiness toaccept any firm hand upon the helm, and an inclination to look longinglyto the son of her ancient Kings, as the one above all others given byGod to govern her. But she had made the terrible
mistake of firstdriving him away into lands where he found little morality and lessreligion, and it was to her woeful hurt that he came back.
It was on a beautiful June evening that the Lanes returned to Bentley:and the old master of the Hall only came back to die. Colonel Lane waslooking much older, and his mother was now an infirm old woman. MrsJane, a blooming matron of thirty, came with her husband, Sir ClementFisher, of Packington Hall, Warwickshire, a great friend of her brother,and like him an exile for the King.
Charles did not forget the service done him by the Lanes, nor leave itunrewarded, as he did that of some of his best friends. He settled onLady Fisher an annuity of a thousand pounds, with half that sum to herbrother; and he presented Colonel Lane with his portrait, and a handsomewatch (a valuable article at that time), which he desired might descendin the family, being enjoyed for life by each eldest daughter of theowner of Bentley Hall. They are still preserved by the Lane family.
A few days after the Lanes returned, Jenny Fenton stood washing andsinging in the back yard of the cottage. Tom's work-shed ran along oneside of it, and there he was carefully fitting the back of a chair toits seat, while a younger Tom, and a still more youthful Joe, were asdiligently building a magnificent sailing-vessel in the corner. A womanof middle age came up to the door, lifted her hand as if to knock,stepped back, and seemed uncertain how to act. A child of six yearsold, at that moment, ran round the cottage, and looked up in surprise atthe stranger standing before the door.
"Little maid, what is thy name?" said the stranger.
A little doubtful whether the stranger, who in her eyes was a very grandlady, was about to hear her say her catechism, the small child put herhands meekly together, and said--
"Molly, please."
"Molly what?" pursued the stranger, with a smile.
"Molly Fenton, please."
"That will do. Where's mother?"
"Please, she's a-washing at the back."
"Is that she that singeth?"
"Yes, that's her," returned Molly, carefully avoiding grammar.
The song came floating to them through the balmy June air.
"`O God, my strength, and fortitude, Of force I must love Thee! Thou art my castle and defence In my necessity.'"
The strange lady sighed, much to Molly's perplexity; then she rapped atthe door. It was opened by Jenny, who stood with an inquiring look onher face, which asked the visitor plainly to say who she was.
"You don't know me, then, Jenny Lavender?"
"No, Ma-- Dear heart! is it Mrs Millicent?"
"It is Millicent Danbury, Jenny. And I am Millicent Danbury still,though you are Jenny Fenton."
"Pray you, come within, Mrs Millicent," said Jenny cordially. "I'mright glad to see you. There's been a many changes since we met--Molly,dust that chair, quick, and bring it up for the gentlewoman."
"Ay," said Millicent, with another sigh, as she sat down in the heavyWindsor chair which it required all Molly's strength to set for her;"there are many changes, Jenny, very many, since you and I livedtogether at Bentley Hall."
"Not for the worser, are they?" replied Jenny cheerfully.
"Ah! I'm not so sure of that, Jenny," answered Millicent.
"Well, I'm nowise afeard of changes," said Jenny, in the same brighttone. "The Lord means His people good by all the changes He sends.Mrs Millicent, won't you tarry a while and sup your four-hours withus?"
The meal which our ancestors called "four-hours" answered to our tea;but tea had not yet been introduced into England, though it was verysoon to be so. They drank, therefore, either milk, or weak home-brewedale.
"With all my heart," was the reply, "if I'm not in your way, Jenny. Youare washing, I see."
"I've done for to-day, and Tom and me'll be as pleased as can be ifyou'll take a bit with us, Mrs Millicent. Molly, child, fetch forththe table-cloth, and get the salt-cellar, and then run and tellfather.--She's a handy little maid for her years," added Jenny, withmotherly pride.
Millicent smiled rather sadly. "You are a happy woman, Jenny!" shesaid.
"Bless the Lord, so I am!" echoed Jenny. "It's the Lord's blessingmakes folks happy."
"Say you so?--then maybe that is why I am not," said Millicent, ratherbitterly. "I don't know much of the Lord."
"That's a trouble can be mended," said Jenny softly; "and you'll be mainglad when it is, take my word for it."
"I don't know how to set about it, Jenny."
"Why, dear heart! how do you set about knowing anybody? Go and see 'em,don't you, and talk with 'em, and get 'em to do things for you? Thegood Lord always keeps His door open, and turns away none as come."
At that moment Tom came in, with a hearty welcome to his guest. Jenny,helped by Molly, bustled about, setting the table, and cutting bread andbutter, while Tom drew the ale; and they had just sat down when a littlerap came on the door.
"Anybody at home here?" asked a bright voice. Jenny knew it at once.
"O Mrs Jane!--I crave pardon, my Lady!--pray you come in, and do us thehonour to sit down in our house."
"I'll do you more honour than that," said Lady Fisher comically, as shecame forward. "I'll eat that bread and butter, if you'll give it me,for I have been a great way afoot, and I am as hungry as a hunter."
"I pray you take a chair, madam, and do us so much pleasure," saidsmiling Jenny. "I have here in the oven a cake but just ready to comeforth, made the Princess Elizabeth's way, His Majesty's sister, and Ishall be proud if your ladyship will taste it."
"I'll taste it vastly, if I get the chance," said Lady Fisher, laughing,as Jenny took her cake out of the oven.
The Princess Elizabeth was that young gentle girl who had died aprisoner at Carisbrooke Castle, a few years after her father's murder,her cheek resting on the little Bible which had been his last gift. Hercake was a rich plum-cake, made with cream, eggs, and butter.
"Did you get your other honour, Jenny?" asked Lady Fisher, as she helpedherself to the cake.
"Madam?" asked Jenny, in some doubt.
"Why, the jewel His Majesty sent you. I was something inclined to doubtFeatherstone might forget it."
"Oh yes, madam, I thank you for asking, I have it quite safe. It was avast surprise to me, and most kind and gracious of His Majesty."
"Well, now I think it was very ungracious in His Majesty," said LadyFisher, laughing. "I am sure he ought to have sent it to Millicenthere, who reckoned him a Roundhead and an assassin to boot, if he meantto show how forgiving he could be to his enemies."
"Oh!" cried Millicent, clasping her hands, "shall I ever forget how thedear King took me by the hand? To think of having touched the hand ofHis Sacred Majesty--"
"Hold, Millicent! that's a new story," said Lady Fisher. "Last time Iheard you tell it, that horrid creature, Will Jackson, only offered totake you by the hand. Has he got it done by now?"
Millicent looked slightly confused, but speedily recovered herself.
"O madam, I think he touched me. I do think I had the honour oftouching His Gracious Majesty's little finger, I really do!"
"Really do, by all means, if it makes you happier; _I've_ no objection.Jenny, I shall eat up all your cake. It is fit to be set before theQueen. Millicent, I wonder you can find in your heart to wash yourhands."
"Oh, but I _had_ washed them, madam, before I knew," answered Millicentregretfully.
"Well, I hope you had," answered Lady Fisher, "seeing there lay nineyears betwixt. Heigh ho! time runs away, and we with it. Seems pity,doesn't it!"
"Depends on where we're running to," replied Tom, who had enteredunseen. "Children that's running home, when they know their father'sgot a fine present for them, isn't commonly feared of getting there toosoon."
"But how if folks don't know, Tom?" suggested Jenny, and Millicent'seyes reflected her query.
"My dear," answered Tom humbly, "it's not for the likes of me to speakafore such as her Ladyship. But I know what my dear old Uncle Anthonywas wont to say: `
The only way to be certain you're on the way Home isto make sure that you are going to your Father; and to do that you mustgo with Him.' And I doubt if he'd speak different, now that he's gotHome."
"Ay, I suppose we would all like to have God go with us," said LadyFisher gravely.
"Madam, saving your presence, Uncle was used to say there's a many wouldlike vastly well to have God go with them, that isn't half so ready toget up and go with God. David spake well when he said, `Make _Thy_ wayplain before my face.' The Lord's way is the sure and safe way, and'tis the only one that leads Home."
"I think, Jenny, you _are_ a happy woman," said Lady Fisher, an hourlater, as she took her leave. Tom had gone back to his work-shed."Good night; God be with you."
"I am that, Madam, the Lord be praised," answered Jenny. "But the Lordis to be praised for it, for I've done nought all my life but makemistakes, until He took hold of me and put me right."
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Note: That part of the story which relates to King Charles and the Lanefamily is quite true, with the exception of a few small details.Authorities differ as to whether the King and Mrs Jane rode to TrentHouse alone, or accompanied by the persons mentioned. Lord Wilmotfollowed them the whole time, at a safe distance.
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