Robin Tremayne Part 39

Note 8. In working the tapestry so much in vogue during the Middle Ages, certain persons were indicated by hair or complexion of a particular tint. To Cain was given a sallow complexion, not unlike Naples yellow, which was therefore known as Cain-colour; and Judas Iscariot being always represented with red hair, this came to be called Judas-colour.

Note 9. The English Jews, being Sephardim, spoke Spanish mostly among themselves at this time.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE DARKEST HOUR OF THE NIGHT.

"I falter where I firmly trod; And falling with my weight of cares Upon the world's great altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to G.o.d, I stretch lame hands of faith."

Tennyson.

Twenty-two hours of the year 1555 had pa.s.sed away. John Avery, Robin, and Esther had gone to the service held in Mr Sheerson's house. The children had been put to bed before they went; Thekla was up-stairs with her mother, who had begged her to remain at home. Mrs Rose could give no reason for her request, except that she felt low and nervous, and had a fancy or a foreboding, which it might be, that it would be better for Thekla to absent herself. Dr Thorpe and Isoult sat alone in the little chamber of the Lamb. It was past ten o'clock--in the middle of the night, to their apprehension--but there could be no going to bed until they knew of the safety of the absent ones. At last, half-an-hour at least after they had expected it, John Avery's hand was heard on the latch. He came in alone.

"Thou art very late, Jack," said Isoult, when he entered. "Where leftest Robin and Esther?"

John, who had turned his back as soon as he came in, was very busy hanging up his cloak, which Isoult thought took longer than his wont.

At last John came forward to the fire, and then his wife saw the look on his face, and knew that some terrible thing had happened.

"Dear heart," he said, huskily, "the Lord doth all things well."

"A sure sign," murmured Dr Thorpe, "that something hath gone ill, when a man shall say that at his first home-coming. What is it, Jack? Hath Robin brake his leg in the frost?"

Suddenly the dread truth rushed on Isoult.

"O Jack, Jack! is Mr Rose taken?" she cried in terror.

John pointed above, where were two who must not hear that awful news unprepared.

"Mr Rose, and all his hearers saving two."

"The good Lord have mercy upon them!"

So Dr Thorpe; but Isoult was silent. Tears would not come yet. "Who were the two, Jack? Is it Robin or Esther they have taken?" pursued Dr Thorpe, with his brows knit. "Both," said he, shortly.

It was strange: but for the first moment Isoult had not remembered either Esther or Robin. Two thoughts alone were present to her; that Mr Rose was taken, and that John was safe. Now the full sorrow broke on her.

"O Jack, Jack! our Robin!--and Esther, too!"

"Beloved," said he, his voice trembling, "both are safe with Him who having died for His own that are in the world, loveth them unto the end.

There shall not an hair of their heads perish. 'Of them that thou gavest Me have I lost none.'"

"Who was the other that 'scaped them?"

"A man whose name I knew not," said John. "Both we stood close to a great closet in the wall, and slid therein noiselessly on the Sheriff's entering; and by the good providence of G.o.d, it never came in their heads to open that door. So when they all were gone, and the street quiet, we could go softly down the stairs, and win thence."

"And where were Robin and Esther?"

"Esther was on the further side of the chamber, by Mistress Sheerson, and Robin stood near Rose at the other end thereof."

"Was the service over?"

"No. Rose was in the act of giving the bread of the Lord's Supper."

Dr Thorpe asked all these questions, and more; Isoult could ask only one. "How shall I tell _them_?"

The troubles of that night were so many that she could scarcely feel each to the full. She would have sorrowed more for Esther had there not been Robin; and perchance even more for Robin had Mrs Rose's anguish and Thekla's weighed less upon her.

"Thank G.o.d, Thekla was not there!" said John.

The last word had not fallen from his lips when, with no sound to herald her coming, Thekla herself stood before them. The light died away from her eyes like the sun under a cloud, and the colour left her lips; yet her voice was calm.

"Then they have taken my father?"

John bowed his head. Her sudden appearing choked his voice, and he could find no words to answer her.

"And Robin?" He bowed his head again.

"Perchance, had I been there, Mr Avery, I had thanked G.o.d rather."

As she said this, one great sob escaped her and she, turned round and went back up the stairs without another word. No one made any motion to follow. Her voice would break the tidings best, and this was an agony which none could spare her. In dead silence they sat for nearly half an hour. No sound came from the chamber above, save the soft murmur of Thekla's voice, which could just be heard when they listened for it.

Her mother's voice they did not hear at all.

At last Isoult rose, lighted a candle, and went gently up-stairs. She paused a moment at Mrs Rose's door. Should she go in, or not? All she could hear was Thekla reading or repeating a verse of Scripture.

"'In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer: I have overcome the world.'"

Thekla opened the door while Isoult still stood there.

"Shall I come in, Thekla?"

"I think not, Mrs Avery, but I thank you," she answered. "She hath not awoke to the full sorrow yet; it is rather a shock, a stun, than an agony. And who is dead to pain is alike dead to comfort. She will feel it more to-morrow, and then it may be an help unto her to talk with you."

"And for thee, Thekla, poor child!" said Isoult, sympathisingly.

"For me?" said she, the ghost of a smile flickering a moment about her lips. "It may be I have scarce awoke either; but I dare not allow myself to think. I have my mother to comfort and support. If she can sleep at all, then will be my time."

"And who is to support thee, poor Thekla?" whispered Isoult.

"Mrs Avery," she answered, the light returning a moment to her eyes, "He that holdeth up heaven and earth can surely hold me up."

Isoult said no more, but to bid her "good-night." She wondered at her, but glided softly away.

The first thing in the morning, when Isoult rose and went into the nursery, she saw a woman bending over Walter's crib, with black shining hair that she knew could be on no head but Esther's.

"Esther, dear heart!" she cried, gladly, "I never was more fain to see a face than thine this morrow."

She lifted her head and smiled. Ay, certainly it was Esther.