CHAPTER XXXVIII.
MASTER TALBOT AND HIS CHARGE.
The afternoon on which they were to enter the old town ofKingston-upon-Hull closed in with a dense sea-fog, fast turning todrizzling rain. They could see but a little distance on either side,and could not see the lordly old church tower. The beads of dew on thefringes of her pony's ears were more visible to Cicely than anythingelse, and as she kept along by Master Richard's side, she rejoiced bothin the beaten, well-trodden track, and in the pealing bells whichseemed to guide them into the haven; while Richard was resolving, as hehad done all through the journey, where he could best lodge hiscompanion so as to be safe, and at the same time free from inconvenientcuriosity.
The wetness of the evening made promptness of decision the moreneedful, while the bad weather which his experienced eye foresaw wouldmake the choice more important.
Discerning through the increasing gloom a lantern moving in the streetwhich seemed to him to light a substantial cloaked figure, he drew upand asked if he were in the way to a well-known hostel. Fortune hadfavoured him, for a voice demanded in return, "Do I hear the voice ofgood Captain Talbot? At your service."
"Yea, it is I--Richard Talbot. Is it you, good Master Heatherthwayte?"
"It is verily, sir. Well do I remember you, good trusty Captain, andthe goodly lady your wife. Do I see her here?" returned the clergyman,who had heartily grasped Richard's hand.
"No, sir, this is my daughter, for whose sake I would ask you to directme to some lodging for the night."
"Nay, if the young lady will put up with my humble chambers, and mylittle daughter for her bedfellow, I would not have so old anacquaintance go farther."
Richard accepted the offer gladly, and Mr. Heatherthwayte walked closeto the horses, using his lantern to direct them, and sending flashes oflight over the gabled ends of the old houses and the muffledpassengers, till they came to a long flagged passage, when he askedthem to dismount, bidding the servants and horses to await his return,and giving his hand to conduct the young lady along the narrow slipperyalley, which seemed to have either broken walls or houses on eitheraide.
He explained to Richard, by the way, that he had married the godlywidow of a ship chandler, but that it had pleased Heaven to take herfrom him at the end of five years, leaving him two young children, butthat her ancient nurse had the care of the house and the little ones.
Curates were not sumptuously lodged in those days. The cells which hadbeen sufficient for monks commissioned by monasteries were no homes formen with families; and where means were to be had, a few rooms had beenadded without much grace, or old cottages adapted--for indeed therequirements of the clergy of the day did not soar above those of thefarmer or petty dealer. Master Heatherthwayte pulled a stringdepending from a hole in a door, the place of which he seemed to knowby instinct, and admitted the newcomers into a narrow paved entry,where he called aloud, "Here, Oil! Dust! Goody! Bring a light! Hereare guests!"
A door was opened instantly into a large kitchen or keeping room,bright with a fire and small lamp. A girl of nine or ten sprangforward, but hung back at the sight of strangers; a boy of twelve roseawkwardly from conning his lessons by the low, unglazed lamp; an oldwoman showed herself from some kind of pantry.
"Here," said the clergyman, "is my most esteemed friend Captain Talbotof Bridgefield and his daughter, who will do us the honour of abidingwith us this night. Do thou, Goody Madge, and thou, Oil-of-Gladness,make the young lady welcome, and dry her garments, while we go and seeto the beasts. Thou, Dust-and-Ashes, mayest come with us and lead thegentleman's horse."
The lad, saddled with this dismal name, and arrayed in garments whichmatched it in colour though not in uncleanliness, sprang up withalacrity, infinitely preferring fog, rain, and darkness to hisaccidence, and never guessing that he owed this relaxation to hisfather's recollection of Mrs. Talbot's ways, and perception that theyoung lady would be better attended to without his presence.
Oil-of-Gladness was a nice little rosy girl in the tightest andprimmest of caps and collars, and with the little housewifelyhospitality that young mistresses of houses early attain to. There wasno notion of equal terms between the Curate's daughter and theSquire's: the child brought a chair, and stood respectfully to receivethe hood, cloak, and riding skirt, seeming delighted at the smile andthanks with which Cicely requited her attentions. The old woman feltthe inner skirts, to make sure that they were not damp, and then thelittle girl brought warm water, and held the bowl while her guestwashed face and hands, and smoothed her hair with the ivory comb whichladies always carried on a journey. The sweet power of setting peopleat ease was one Cis had inherited and cultivated by imitation, andOil-of-Gladness was soon chattering away over her toilette. Would thelady really sleep with her in her little bed? She would promise not tokick if she could help it. Then she exclaimed, "Oh! what fair thingwas that at the lady's throat? Was it a jewel of gold? She had neverseen one; for father said it was not for Christian women to adornthemselves. Oh no; she did not mean--" and, confused, she ran off tohelp Goody to lay the spotless tablecloth, Cis following to set thechild at peace with herself, and unloose the tongue again into hopesthat the lady liked conger pie; for father had bought a mighty congerfor twopence, and Goody had made a goodly pie of him.
By the time the homely meal was ready Mr. Talbot had returned fromdisposing of his horses and servants at a hostel, for whose comparativerespectability Mr. Heatherthwayte had answered. The clergyman himselfalone sat down to supper with his guests. He would not hear of lettingeither of his children do so; but while Dust-and-Ashes retired to studyhis tasks for the Grammar School by firelight, Oil-of-Gladness assistedGoody in waiting, in a deft and ready manner pleasant to behold.
No sooner did Mr. Talbot mention the name Cicely than MasterHeatherthwayte looked up and said--"Methinks it was I who spake thatname over this young lady in baptism."
"Even so," said Richard. "She knoweth all, but she hath ever been ourgood and dutiful daughter, for which we are the more thankful thatHeaven hath given us none other maid child."
He knew Master Heatherthwayte was inclined to curiosity about otherpeople's affairs, and therefore turned the discourse on the doings ofhis sons, hoping to keep him thus employed and avert all furtherconversation upon Cicely and the cause of the journey. The good manwas most interested in Edward, only he exhorted Mr. Talbot to becareful with whom he bestowed the stripling at Cambridge, so that hemight shed the pure light of the Gospel, undimmed by Popish obscuritiesand idolatries.
He began on his objections to the cross in baptism and the ring inmarriage, and dilated on them to his own satisfaction over the tankardof ale that was placed for him and his guest, and the apples and nutswherewith Cicely was surreptitiously feeding Oil-of-Gladness andDust-and-Ashes; while the old woman bustled about, and at length madeher voice heard in the announcement that the chamber was ready, and theyoung lady was weary with travel, and it was time she was abed, and Oillikewise.
Though not very young children, Oil and Dust, at a sign from theirfather, knelt by his chair, and uttered their evening prayers aloud,after which he blessed and dismissed them--the boy to a shake-down inhis own room, the girl to the ecstasy of assisting the guest toundress, and admiring the wonders of the very simple toilette apparatuscontained in her little cloak bag.
Richard meantime was responding as best he could to the inquiries heknew would be inevitable as soon as he fell in with the Reverend MasterHeatherthwayte. He was going to London in the Mastiff on some businessconnected with the Queen of Scots, he said.
Whereupon Mr. Heatherthwayte quoted something from the Psalms about thewicked being taken in their own pits, and devoutly hoped she would notescape this time. His uncharitableness might be excused by the factthat he viewed it as an immediate possibility that the Prince of Parmamight any day enter the Humber, when he would assuredly be burnt alive,and Oil-of-Gladness exposed to the fate of the children of Haarlem.
Then he added, "I
grieved to hear that you and your household were somuch exposed to the witchcrafts of that same woman, sir."
"I hope she hath done them little hurt," said Richard.
"Is it true," he added, "that the woman hath laid claim to the younglady now here as a kinswoman?"
"It is true," said Richard, "but how hath it come to your knowledge, mygood friend? I deemed it known to none out of our house; not even theEarl and Countess guess that she is no child of ours."
"Nay, Mr. Talbot, is it well to go on in a deceit?"
"Call it rather a concealment," said Richard. "We have doubted itsince, but when we began, it was merely that there was none to whom itseemed needful to explain that the babe was not the little daughter weburied here. But how did you learn it? It imports to know."
"Sir, do you remember your old servant Colet, Gervas's wife? It willbe three years next Whitsuntide that hearing a great outcry as of awoman maltreated as I passed in the street, I made my way into thehouse and found Gervas verily beating his wife with a broomstick. AfterI had rebuked him and caused him to desist, I asked him the cause, andhe declared it to be that his wife had been gadding to a stinkingPapist fellow, who would be sure to do a mischief to his noble captain,Mr. Talbot. Thereupon Colet declares that she had done no harm, thegentleman wist all before. She knew him again for the captain'skinsman who was in the house the day that the captain brought home thebabe."
"Cuthbert Langston!"
"Even so, sir. It seems that he had been with this woman, andquestioned her closely on all she remembered of the child, learningfrom her what I never knew before, that there were marks branded on hershoulders and a letter sewn in her clothes. Was it so, sir?"
"Ay, but my wife and I thought that even Colet had never seen them."
"Nothing can escape a woman, sir. This man drew all from her byassuring her that the maiden belonged to some great folk, and was evenakin to the King and Queen of Scots, and that she might have some greatreward if she told her story to them. She even sold him some three orfour gold and ivory beads which she says she found when sweeping outthe room where the child was first undressed."
"Hath she ever heard more of the fellow?"
"Nay, but Gervas since told me that he had met some of my Lord's menwho told him that your daughter was one of the Queen of Scots' ladies,and said he, 'I held my peace; but methought, It hath come of thetalebearing of that fellow to whom my wife prated.'"
"Gervas guessed right," said Richard. "That Langston did contrive tomake known to the Queen of Scots such tokens as led to her owning themaiden as of near kin to her by the mother's side, and to her husbandon the father's; but for many reasons she entreated us to allow thedamsel still to bear our name, and be treated as our child."
"I doubt me whether it were well done of you, sir," said Mr.Heatherthwayte.
"Of that," said Richard, drawing up into himself, "no man can judge foranother."
"She hath been with that woman; she will have imbibed her Popishvanities!" exclaimed the poor clergyman, almost ready to start up andseparate Oil-of-Gladness at once from the contamination.
"You may be easy on that score," said Richard drily. "Her faith iswhat my good wife taught her, and she hath constantly attended thepreachings of the chaplains of Sir Amias Paulett, who be all of yourown way of thinking."
"You assure me?" said Mr. Heatherthwayte, "for it is the nature ofthese folk to act a part, even as did the parent the serpent."
Often as Richard had thought so himself, he was offended now, and rose,"If you think I have brought a serpent into your house, sir, we willtake shelter elsewhere. I will call her."
Mr. Heatherthwayte apologised and protested, and showed himself willingto accept the assurance that Cicely was as simple and guileless as hisown little maid; and Mr. Talbot, not wishing to be sent adrift withCicely at that time of night, and certainly not to put such an affronton the good, if over-anxious father, was pacified, but the cordial toneof ease was at an end, and they were glad to separate and retire torest.
Richard had much cause for thought. He perceived, what had always beena perplexity to him before, how Langston had arrived at the knowledgethat enabled him to identify Cicely with the babe of Lochleven.
Mr. Talbot heard moanings and wailings of wind all night, which to hisexperience here meant either a three days' detention at Hull, or a landjourney. With dawn there were gusts and showers. He rose betimes andwent downstairs. He could hear his good host praying aloud in hisroom, and feeling determined not to vex that Puritan spirit by thepresence of Queen Mary's pupil, he wrapped his cloak about him and wentout to study the weather, and inquire for lodgings to which he mightremove Cicely. He saw nothing he liked, and determined on consultinghis old mate, Goatley, who generally acted as skipper, but he had firstto return so as not to delay the morning meal. He found, on coming in,Cicely helping Oil-of-Gladness in making griddle cakes, and butteringthem, so as to make Mr. Heatherthwayte declare that he had not tastedthe like since Mistress Susan quitted Hull.
Moreover, he had not sat down to the meal more than ten minutes beforehe discovered, to his secret amusement, that Cicely had perfectlyfascinated and charmed the good minister, who would have shuddered hadhe known that she did so by the graces inherited and acquired from theobject of his abhorrence. Invitations to abide in their presentquarters till it was possible to sail were pressed on them; and thoughRichard showed himself unwilling to accept them, they were so cordiallyreiterated, that he felt it wiser to accede to them rather than spreadthe mystery farther. He was never quite sure whether Mr.Heatherthwayte looked on the young lady as untainted, or whether hewished to secure her in his own instructions; but he always describedher as a modest and virtuous young lady, and so far from thinking herpresence dangerous, only wished Oil to learn as much from her aspossible.
Cicely was sorely disappointed, and wanted to ride on at once by land;but when her foster-father had shown her that the bad weather would bean almost equal obstacle, and that much time would be lost on the road,she submitted with the good temper she had cultivated under such anotable example. She taught Oil-of-Gladness the cookery of one of hermothers and the stitchery of the other; she helped Dust-and-Ashes withhis accidence, and enlightened him on the sports of the Bridgefieldboys, so that his father looked round dismayed at the smotheredlaughter, when she assured him that she was only telling how herbrother Diccon caught a coney, or the like, and in some magical waysmoothed down his frowns with her smile.
Mistress Cicely Talbot's visit was likely to be an unforgotten era withDust-and-Ashes and Oil-of-Gladness. The good curate entreated that sheand her father would lodge there on their return, and the invitationwas accepted conditionally, Mr. Talbot writing to his wife, by thecarriers, to send such a load of good cheer from Bridgefield as wouldamply compensate for the expenses of this hospitality.