Clare Avery Part 39

"No, Sir!--and there is no such thing."

"That hangeth, I take it, on what the word is held to signify."

"Shall I tell you what it signifieth?"

"Pray you, so do."

"Faint-heartedness, Sir!--weakness--recreancy--cowardliness--shamedness of the truth!"

"An ill-sounding list of names," said Mr Tremayne quietly. "And one of none whereof I would by my good-will be guilty.--Pray you, whom have I the honour to discourse withal?"

"A very pestilent heretic, that Queen Mary should have burned, and forgat."

"She did not that with many," was the significant answer.

"She did rare like to it with a lad that I knew in King Edward's days, whose name was Robin Tremayne."

"Master Underhill, my dear old friend!" cried the Rector, grasping his visitor's hand warmly. "I began these two minutes back to think I should know those brown eyes, but I might not set a name thereto all at once."

"Ha! the 'pestilent heretic' helped thee to it, I reckon!" replied the guest laughing. "Ay, Robin, this is he thou knewest of old time. We will fight out our duello another time, lad. I am rare glad to see thee so well-looking."

"From what star dropped you, Master Underhill? or what fair wind blew you hither?"

"I am dropped out of Warwickshire, lad, if that be a star; and I came hither of a galloway's back (but if he were the wind, 'twas on the stillest night of the year!) And how goes it with Mrs Thekla? I saw her last in her bride's gear."

"She will be rarely glad to see you, old friend; and so, I warrant you, will our mother, Mistress Rose. Will you take the pain to go with me to mine house?--where I will ensure you of a good bed and a rare welcome."

"Wilt thou ensure me of twain, lad?" asked the old man, with a comic twinkle in his eyes.

"Twain! What, which of all my small ancient friends be with you?--Ay, and that as hearty as to yourself.--Is it Hal or Ned?"

"Thou art an ill guesser, Robin: 'tis neither Ned nor Hal. Thy _small_ friends, old lad, be every man and woman of them higher than their father. Come, let us seek the child. I left her a-poring and posing over one of the tombs in the church.--What, Eunice!--I might as well have left my staff behind as leave her."

It was plainly to be perceived, by the loud call which resounded through the sacred edifice, that Mr Underhill was not fettered by any superst.i.tious reverence for places. A comely woman answered the call,-- in years about thirty-seven, in face particularly bright and pleasant.

The last time that Mr Tremayne had seen her, Eunice Underhill was about as high as the table.

"And doth Mistress Rose yet live?" said her father, as they went towards the parsonage. "She must be a mighty old grandame now. And all else be gone, as I have heard, that were of old time in the Lamb?"

"All else, saving Barbara Polwhele,--you mind Barbara, the chamber-- maiden?--and Walter's daughter, Clare, which is now a maid of twenty years."

"Ah, I would fain see yon la.s.s of little Walter's. What manner of wife did the lad wed?"

"See her--ask not me," said the Rector smiling.

"Now, how read I that? Which of the Seven Sciences hath she lost her way in?"

"In no one of them all."

"Come, I will ask Mrs Thekla."

Mr Tremayne laughed.

"You were best see her for yourself, as I cast no doubt you soon will.

How long time may we hope to keep you?"

"Shall you weary of us under a month?"

Mr Underhill was warmly enough a.s.sured that there was no fear of any such calamity.

Most prominent of his party--which was Puritan of the Puritans--was Edward Underhill of Honyngham, the Hot Gospeller. His history was a singular one. Left an heir and an orphan at a very early age, he had begun life as a riotous reveller. Soon after he reached manhood, G.o.d touched his heart--by what agency is not recorded. Then he "fell to reading the Scriptures and following the preachers,"--throwing his whole soul into the service of Christ, as he had done before into that of Satan. Had any person acquainted with the religious world of that day been asked, on the outbreak of Queen Mary's persecution, to name the first ten men who would suffer, it is not improbable that Edward Underhill's name would have been found somewhere on the list. But, to the astonishment of all who knew his decided views, and equally decided character, he had survived the persecution, with no worse suffering than a month spent in Newgate, and a tedious illness as the result. Nor was this because he had either hidden his colours, or had struck them.

Rather he kept his standard flying to the breeze, and defied the foe.

No reason can be given for his safety, save that still the G.o.d of Daniel could send His angel and shut the lions' mouths, that they should do His prophets no hurt.

On the accession of Elizabeth, Underhill returned for a short time to his London home in Wood Street, Cheapside; but die soon went back to the family seat in Warwickshire, where he had since lived as a country squire. [Note 1.]

"Yet these last few months gone have I spent in London," said he, "for my Hal [name true, character imaginary] would needs have me. Now, Robin, do thou guess what yon lad hath gat in his head. I will give thee ten shots."

"No easy task, seeing I ne'er had the good fortune to behold him. What manner of lad is he?"

"Eunice?" said her father, referring the question to her.

Eunice laughed. "Hal is mighty like his father, Master Tremayne. He hath a stout will of his own, nor should you quickly turn him thence."

"Lo you, now, what conditions doth this jade give me!" laughed Underhill. "A stubborn old brute, that will hear no reason!"

"Hal will not hear o'ermuch, when he is set on aught," said Eunice.

"Well," said Mr Tremayne thoughtfully, "so being, I would guess that he had set his heart, to be Archbishop of Canterbury, or else Lord Privy Seal."

"_Ma foi_!" interposed Mrs Rose, "but I would guess that no son of Mr Underhill should tarry short of a king. Mind you not, _hermano_, that I did once hear you to say that you would not trust your own self, had you the chance to make your Annette a queen?"

"Dear heart, Mistress Rose! I would the lad had stayed him at nought worser. Nay, he is not for going up the ladder, but down. Conceive you, nought will serve him but a journey o'er seas, and to set him up a home in the Queen's Majesty's country of Virginia--yea, away in the plantations, amongst all the savages and wild beasts, and men worser than either, that have been of late carried thither from this land, for to be rid of them. 'Come, lad,' said I to him, 'content thee with eating of batatas [the Spanish word of which _potato_ is a corruption]

and drinking of tobacco [smoking tobacco was originally termed _drinking_ it], and leave alone this mad fantasy.' But not he, in good sooth! Verily, for to go thither as a preacher and teacher, with hope to reform the ill men,--that had been matter of sore peril, and well to be thought on; yet would I not have said him nay, had the Lord called him to it;--but to make his _home_!"

And Mr Underhill stopped short, as if words were too weak adequately to convey his feelings.

"Maybe the Lord hath called him to that, old friend," said the Rector.

"His eyes be on Virginia, no less than England."

"G.o.d forbid I should deny it! Yet there is such gear as tempting the Lord. For my part,--but la! I am an old man, and the old be less venturesome than the young,--yet for me, I see not what should move a man to dwell any whither out of his own country, without he must needs fly to save his life."

"Had all men been of your mind," observed Mr Tremayne with a smile, "there had ne'er been any country inhabited save one, until men were fairly pushed thence by lack of room."

"Well!--and wherefore should any quit home until he be pushed out?"

"Ask at Hal," said the Rector laughing.

"No have I so? Yea, twenty times twice told: but all I may win from the young ne'er-do-well is wise saws that the world must be peopled (why so, I marvel?),--and that there is pleasure in aventure (a deal more, I reckon, in keeping of one's carcase safe and sound!)--and that some men must needs dwell in strange lands, and the like. Well-a-day! wherefore should they so? Tell me that, Robin Tremayne."