The King's Daughters Part 27

"But please--" said Cissy piteously--"isn't nothing to be done to us?

Mayn't we go 'long of Father?"

"Ay, for the present," answered Wastborowe, as he took a hand of each to lead them back.

"But isn't Father to be burned?"

"Come along! I can't stay," said the gaoler hastily. Even his hard heart shrank from answering yes to that little pleading face.

"But please, oh please, they mustn't burn Father and not us! We _must_ go with Father."

"Wastborowe!" Sir John's voice called back.

"Take 'em down, Tom," said Wastborowe to his man,--not at all sorry to go away from Cissy. He ran back to court.

"We are of opinion, Wastborowe," said Dr Chedsey rather pompously, "that these children are too young and ignorant to be put to the bar.

We make order, therefore, that they be discharged, and set in care of some good Catholic woman, if any be among their kindred; and if not, let them be committed to the care of some such not akin to them."

"Please, your Wors.h.i.+ps, I know nought of their kindred," said the gaoler scratching his head. "Jane Hiltoft hath the babe at this present."

"What, is there a lesser babe yet?" asked Dr Chedsey, laughing.

"Ay, there is so: a babe in arms."

"Wors.h.i.+pful Sirs, might it please you to hear a poor woman?"

"Speak on, good wife."

"Sirs," said the woman who had spoken, coming forward out of the crowd, "my name is Ursula Felstede, and I dwell at Thorpe, the next door to Johnson. The babes know me, and have been in my charge aforetime. May I pray your good Wors.h.i.+ps to set them in my care? I have none of mine own, and would bring them up to mine utmost as good subjects and honest folks."

"Ay so? and how about good Catholics?"

"Sirs, Father Tye will tell you I go to ma.s.s and confession both."

"So she doth," said the priest: "but I mis...o...b.. somewhat if she be not of the 'halting Gospellers' whereof we heard this morrow in the Moot Hall."

"Better put them in charge of the Black Sisters of Hedingham," suggested Dr Chedsey. "Come you this even, good woman, to the White Hart, and you shall then hear our pleasure. Father Tye, I pray you come with us to supper."

Dr Chedsey had quite recovered from his emotions of the morning.

"Meanwhile," said Sir John, rising, "let the morrow of Lammas be appointed for the execution of those sentenced." [See note 2.]

Note 1. Rose's words are given as she spoke them: but it must be remembered that they would not sound nearly so strong to those who heard them as they do to us.

Note 2. Lammas is the second of August.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

MAN PROPOSES.

Mrs Cosin, the landlady of the White Hart, prepared a very good supper for the Commissioners. These gentlemen did not fare badly. First, they had a dish of the oysters for which the town was famous, then some roast beef and a big venison pasty, then some boiled pigeons, then two or three puddings, a raspberry pie, curds and whey, cheese, with a good deal of Malmsey wine and old sack, finis.h.i.+ng up with cherries and sweet biscuits.

They had reached the cherry stage before they began to talk beyond mere pa.s.sing remarks. Then the priest said:--

"I am somewhat feared, Master Commissioners, you shall reckon Colchester an infected place, seeing there be here so many touched with the poison of heresy."

"It all comes of self-conceit," said Sir John.

"Nay," answered Dr Chedsey. "Self-conceit is scarce wont to bring a man to the stake. It were more like to save him from it."

"Well, but why can't they let things alone?" inquired Sir John, helping himself to a biscuit. "They know well enough what they shall come to if they meddle with matters of religion. Why don't they leave the priest to think for them?"

Dr Chedsey was silent: not because he did not know the answer. The time was when he, too, had been one of those now despised and condemned Gospellers. In Edward the Sixth's day, he had preached the full, rich Gospel of the grace of G.o.d: and now he was a deserter to the enemy.

Some of such men--perhaps most--grew very hard and stony, and seemed to take positive pleasure in persecuting those who were more faithful than themselves: but there were a few with whom the Spirit of G.o.d continued to strive, who now and then remembered from whence they had fallen, and to whom that remembrance brought poignant anguish when it came upon them. Dr Chedsey appears to have been one of this type. Let us hope that these wandering sheep came home at last in the arms of the Good Shepherd who sought them with such preserving tenderness. But the sad truth is that we scarcely know with certainty of one who did so. On the accession of Elizabeth, when we might have expected them to come forward and declare their repentance if it were sincere, they did no such thing: they simply dropped into oblivion, and we lose them there.

It is a hard and bitter thing to depart from G.o.d: how hard, and how bitter, only those know in this world who try to turn round and come back. It will be known fully in that other world whence there is no coming back.

Dr Chedsey, then, was silent: not because he did not understand the matter, but because he knew it too well. Sir John had said the Protestants "knew what they would come to": that was the stake and the fire. But those who persecuted Christ in the person of His elect--what were they going to come to? It was not pleasant to think about that.

Dr Chedsey was very glad that it was just then announced that a woman begged leave to speak with their Wors.h.i.+ps.

"It shall be yon woman that would fain take the children, I cast no doubt," said Sir John: "and we have had no talk thereupon. Shall she have them or no?"

"What say you, Father Tye?"

"Truly, that I have not over much trust in Felstede's wife. She was wont of old time to have Bible-readings and prayer-meetings at her house; and though she feigneth now to be reconciled and Catholic, yet I doubt her repentance is but skin deep. The children were better a deal with the Black Nuns. Yet--there may be some time ere we can despatch them thither, and if you thought good, Felstede's wife might have them till then."

"Good!" said Sir John. "Call the woman in."

Ursula Felstede was called in, and stood courtesying at the door. Sir John put on his stern and pompous manner in speaking to her.

"It seemeth best to the Queen's Grace's Commission," said he, "that these children were sent in the keeping of the Sisters of Hedingham: yet as time may elapse ere the Prioress cometh to town, we leave them in thy charge until she send for them. Thou shalt keep them well, learn them to be good Catholics, and deliver them to the Black Nuns when they demand it."

Ursula courtesied again, and "hoped she should do her duty."

"So do I hope," said the priest. "But I give thee warning, Ursula Felstede, that thy duty hath not been over well done ere this: and 'tis high time thou shouldst amend if thou desire not to be brought to book."

Ursula dropped half-a-dozen courtesies in a flurried way.

"Please it, your Reverence, I am a right true Catholic, and shall learn the children so to be."

"Mind thou dost!" said Sir John.

Dr Chedsey meanwhile had occupied himself in writing out an order for the children to be delivered to Ursula, to which he affixed the seal of the Commission. Armed with this paper, and having taken leave of the Commissioners, with many protests that she would "do her duty," Ursula made her way to the Castle gate.

"Who walks so late?" asked the porter, looking out of his little wicket to see who it was.