Joyce Morrell's Harvest Part 10

horn, used of these old _Jews_ and _Romans_, that did labour in these mines of old time.

"Good lack!" cried I: "and be these the very pickaxes used of these ghosts? Verily, I would be feared for to touch them."

"Nay, the tools themselves be no ghosts," saith he, laughing: "and I do ensure you, fair my mistress, I have seen and handled divers thereof."

Then he told me, moreover, of a new custom is risen up in the Queen's Majesty's Court: for right courtly discourse he hath, and the names of dukes and earls do fly about in his talk as though he were hand and glove with every man of them. I do love to hear such discourse, and that right dearly. Many a time have I essayed for to win _Mother_ to enter into talk touching those days when she dwelt in _Surrey_ Place with my good Lady Countess of _Surrey_: but I wis not well wherefore, she ever seemeth to have no list to talk of that time. She will tell us of her 'prisonment in the _Counter_, and how _Father_ brought the little sh.e.l.l for to comfort her, and at after how he fetched her out, and rode away with her and had a care of her, when as she was let forth: but even in that there seems me like as there should be a gap, which she never filleth up. I marvel if there were somewhat of that time the which she would not we should know. [Note 5.] I did once whisper a word of this make unto _Nell_: but Mistress _Helena_, that doth alway the right and meet thing, did seem so mighty shocked that I should desire to ferret forth somewhat that _Mother_ had no list for me to know, that I let her a-be. But for all that would I dearly love to know it. I do take delight in digging up of other folks' secrets, as much as in keeping of mine own.

Howbeit, here am I a great way off from Sir _Edwin_ and his discourse of the new Court custom, the which hath name _Euphuism_, and is a right fair conceit, whereby divers gentlemen and gentlewomen do swear friendship unto one the other, by divers quaint names the which they do confer. Thus the Queen's Majesty herself is pleased to honour some of her servants, as my Lord of _Burleigh_, who is her _Spirit_, and Sir _Walter Raleigh_ her _Water_, and Mr Vice-Chamberlain [Sir Christopher Hatton] her _Sheep_, and Mr Secretary [Sir Francis Walsingham] her _Moon_. Sir _Edwin_ saith he had himself such a friendship with some mighty great lady, whose name he would not utter, (though I did my best to provoke him thereto) he calling her his _Discretion_, and she naming him her _Fort.i.tude_. Which is pleasant and witty matter. [Note 6.]

"And," quoth Sir _Edwin_, "mine honey-sweet Mistress, if it may stand with your pleasure, let us two follow the Court fashion. You shall be mine _Amiability_, [loveliness, not loveableness], and (if it shall please you) shall call me your _Protection_. Have I well said, my fairest?"

"Indeed, Sir, and I thank you," I made answer, "and should you do me so much honour, it should like me right well."

By this time we were come to the turn nigh the garden gate, and I dared not be seen with Sir _Edwin_ no nearer the house. The which he seemed to guess, and would there take his leave: demanding of me which road led the shortest way to _Kirkstone_ Pa.s.s. So I home, and into our chamber to doff my raiment, where, as ill luck would have it, was _Nell_. Now, our chamber window is the only one in all the house whence the path to _Jack's_ hut can be seen: wherefore I reckoned me fairly safe. But how did mine heart jump into my mouth when _Nell_ saith, as I was a-folding of my kerchief--

"Who was that with thee, _Milly_?"

Well, I do hope it was not wicked that I should answer,--"A gentleman, _Nell_, that would know his shortest way to _Kirkstone_ Pa.s.s." In good sooth, it was a right true answer: for Sir _Edwin_ is a gentleman, and he did ask me which were the shortest way thereto. But, good lack! it seemed me as all the pins that ever were in a cushion started o'

p.r.i.c.king me when I thus spake. Yet what ill had I done, forsooth? I had said no falsehood: only shut _Nell's_ mouth, for she asked no further. And, dear heart, may I not make so much as a friend to divert me withal, but I must send round the town-crier to proclaim the same?

After I had writ thus much, down come I to the great chamber, where I found _Anstace_ and _Hal_ come; and _Hal_, with _Father_ and _Mynheer_, were fallen of mighty grave discourse touching the news of late come, that the Pope hath pretended to deprive the Queen's Majesty of all right to _Ireland_. Well-a-day! as though Her Majesty should think to let go _Ireland_ or any other land because a foreign bishop should bid her!

Methinks this companion the Pope must needs be clean wood [mad].

_Hal_, moreover, is well pleased that the Common Council of _London_ should forbid all plays in the City, the which, as he will have it, be ill and foolish matter. Truly, it maketh little matter to me here in _Derwent_ dale: but methinks, if I dwelt in _London_ town, I should be but little pleased therewith. Why should folk not divert them?

Being aweary of Master _Hal's_ grave discourse, went I over to _Anstace_, whom I found mighty busied of more lighter matter,--to wit, the sumptuary laws of late set forth against long cloaks and wide ruffs, which do ill please her, for _Anstace_ loveth to ruffle it of a good ruff. Thence gat she to their _Cicely_, which is but ill at ease, and Dr _Bell_ was fetched to her this last even: who saith that on _Friday_ and _Sat.u.r.day_ the sign [of the Zodiac] shall be in the heart, and from _Sunday_ to _Tuesday_ in the stomach, during which time it shall be no safe dealing with physic preservative, whereof he reckoneth her need to be: so she must needs tarry until _Wednesday_ come seven-night, and from that time to fifteen days forward shall be pa.s.sing good.

Howbeit, we gat back ere long to the fashions, whereof _Anstace_ had of late a parcel of news from her husband's sister, Mistress _Parker_, that dwelleth but fifty miles from _London_, and is an useful sister for to have. As to the newest fashion of sleeves (quoth she), nothing is more certain than the uncertainty; and likewise of hoods. Cypress, saith she, is out of fashion (the which hath put me right out of conceit with my cypress kirtle that was made but last year), and napped taffeta is now thought but serving-man-like. All this, and a deal more, _Anstace_ told us, as we sat in the compa.s.sed window [bay window].

Dr _Meade's_ hour-gla.s.s is broke of the s.e.xton. I am fain to hear the same, if it shall cut his sermons shorter.

Note 1. At this time, shaking hands indicated warmer cordiality than the kiss, which last was the common form of greeting amongst all cla.s.ses.

Note 2. Four-hours answered to afternoon tea, and was usually served, as its name denotes, at four o'clock.

Note 3. Millicent has really no connection with Melissa, though many persons have supposed so. It comes, through Milisent and Melisende, from the Gothic _Amala-suinde_, which signifies Heavenly wisdom.

Note 4. Bade is the imperfect, and bidden the participle, of bid, to invite, as well as of bid, to command.

Note 5. The reader who wishes for more light on this point than was allowed to Milisent, will find it in "Lettice Eden."

Note 6. At this time "pleasant" meant humorous, and "witty" meant intellectual. This curious child's play termed Euphuism, to which grave men and sedate women did not hesitate to lower themselves, was peculiar to the age of Elizabeth, than whom never was a human creature at once so great and so small.

CHAPTER FOUR.

IN BY-PATH MEADOW.

"I thought that I was strong, Lord, And did not need Thine arm; Though dangers thronged around me, My heart felt no alarm: I thought I nothing needed-- Riches, nor dress, nor sight: And on I walked in darkness, And still I thought it light."

SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE XV.

I have but now read o'er what I writ these last few days, and have meditated much whether I should go on to tell of Sir _Edwin_, for it shall ne'er serve to have folk read the same. And methinketh it best for to go straight on, and at the end, if need be, tear out the leaves.

For it doth me a mighty pleasure to write and think upon the same: and I can make some excuse when I come to it.

Though Mistress _Nell_, I guess right well, Of neatness should be heedful: Yet I will tear The leaves out fair, If it shall so be needful.

There! who saith I cannot write poesy?

This morrow again (I being but just without the garden gate), I met with my _Protection_, who doffed his plumed bonnet and saluted me as his most fair _Amiability_. I do see him most days, though but for a minute: and in truth I think long from one time to another. Coming back, I meditated what I should say to Mistress _Nell_ (that loveth somewhat too much to meddle) should she have caught sight of him: for it shall not serve every time to send him to _Kirkstone_. Nor, of course, could I think to tell a lie thereabout. So I called to mind that he had once asked me what name we called the eye-bright in these parts, though it were not this morrow, but I should not need to say that, and it should be no lie, seeing he did say so much. Metrusteth the cushion should not p.r.i.c.k me for that, and right sure am I there should be no need.

SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE XVII.

Truly, as saith the old saw, 'tis best not to halloo till thou be out of the wood. This very afternoon, what should _Edith_ say, without one word of warning, as we were sat a-sewing, but--

"_Mother_, do you mind a gentleman, by name _Tregarvon_?"

"What name saidst, _Edith_?" asks _Mother_.

"_Tregarvon_," quoth she. "Sir _Edwin Tregarvon_, of _Cornwall_."

"Nay, I never knew no gentleman of that name," saith _Mother_. "Where heardst of him, child?"

"'Twas when we went o'er to Saint _Hubert's_ Isle, _Mother_," she made answer,--"what day were it, _Milly_?--about ten days gone--"

"Aye, I mind it," saith _Mother_.

"Well, while I sat of the rock a-drawing, come up a gentleman to me,"

saith she, "and asked at me if _Louvaine_ were not my name. (Why, then, he knew us! thought I.) I said 'Aye,' and he went on to ask me if _Father_ were at home, for he had list to have speech of him: and he said he knew you, _Mother_, of old time, when you were Mistress _Lettice_. I told him _Father_ was at home, and he desired to know what time should be the best to find him: when I told him the early morrow, for he was oft away in the afternoon. And then--"

"Well, my la.s.s?" saith _Mother_, for _Edith_ was at a point.

"Well, _Mother_, methinks I had better tell you," saith she, a-looking up, "for I cannot be easy till I have so done, and I wis well you will not lay to my charge a thing that was no blame of mine. So--then he 'gan to speak of a fashion that little liked me, and I am a.s.sured should have liked you no better: commending my drawing, and mine hair, and mine eyes, and all such matter as that: till at the last I said unto him, 'Sir, I pray you of pardon, but I am not used to such like talk, and in truth I know not what to answer. If your aim be to find favour with me, you were best hold your peace from such words.' For, see you, _Mother_, I thought he might have some pet.i.tion unto _Father_, and might take a fantasy that I could win _Father_ to grant him, and so would the rather if he talked such matter as should flatter my foolish vanity. As though _Father_ should be one to be swayed by such a fantasy as that! But then, of course, he did not know _Father_. I trust I did not aught to your displeasance, _Mother_?"

"So far as I can judge, dear child, thou didst very well," saith _Mother_: "and I am right glad thou wert thus discreet for thy years.

But what said he in answer?"

"Oh, he tarried not after that," quoth she: "he did only mutter somewhat that methought should be to ask pardon, and then went off in another minute."

_Mother_ laid down her work with a glow in her eyes.

"O _Edith_!" saith she: "I am so thankful thou art not,"--but all suddenly she shut up tight, and the glow went out of her _eyes_ and into her cheeks. I never know what that signifieth: and I have seen it to hap aforetime. But she took up her sewing again, and said no more, till she saith all at once right the thing which I desired her not to say.

"Did this gentleman speak with thee, _Milly_?"

I made my voice as cool and heedless as I could.

"Well, _Mother_, I reckon it was the same that I saw leaning against a tree at the other side of the isle, which spake to me and asked me what the isle was called, and who Saint _Hubert_ were. He told me, the same as _Edith_, that he had known you aforetime."