Joyce Morrell's Harvest Part 24

"Why didst not send a buck-shot through her?" quoth _Ned_.

"Good lack! I had no arms," saith _Austin_: "and what good should come o' shooting a ghost?"

"Make you first sure she is a ghost," saith _Father_: "for it should be right little good that should come of shooting a woman."

This was all said that night; and we brake up at nine o' the clock, and away hied our guests.

But yestereven, as I was a-crossing of the hall, just after the dusk fell, what should I see but Aunt _Joyce_, clad in hood, cloak, and pattens, drawing back of the bolt from the garden door: and I ran to help her.

"Why, Aunt _Joyce_, whither go you so late?" said I. "But may-be I do ill to ask."

"Nay, thou dost not so, child," saith she: "and I will take thee into my secret, for I can trust thee. _Nell_, I am going to see the ghost."

"Aunt _Joyce_," was all I could utter.

"Ay," saith she, "I will: for my mind misgives me that this is no ghost, but a living woman: and a woman that it should be well had an other woman to speak unto her. Be not afeared, dear heart; I am not running afore I am sent. It was said to me last night, 'Go in this thy might.'

And when the Lord sends men on His errands, He pays the charges."

"But if you should be hurt, _Aunt_!" cried I.

"Well, what so?" saith she. "He were a poor soldier that were afeared to be hurt in his King's battles. But if it be as I think, _Nell_, there is no fear thereof. And if there were, mine ease is of less moment than a sinner's soul. Nay, dear maid, take thine heart to thee [cheer up]. There is more with me than all the constables in _c.u.mberland_. 'Whatsoever the Lord pleased, that did He,--in heaven, and in the earth, and in the seas, and in all deep places.' I am not afeared, _Nell_."

And away trudged she, without an other word. But I sat on thorns till, about seven o' the clock, she came into the great chamber, her hood and cloak doffed.

"Why, _Joyce_, I had lost thee," saith _Mother_, looking up brightly from her sewing.

"I would rather thou hadst lost me than the Lord, _Lettice_: and if thou hadst not, methinks He had found me wanting," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "Now, dear hearts, list me. I have much trust in you, _Aubrey_ and _Lettice_, or I had not dared to do as I have done this night. I have brought into your house a woman that is a sinner. Will you turn her forth of the doors to die in the snow without, or will you let her 'bide till she hath had time to behold Him that sitteth as guest at your banquet, and, I would hope, to wash His feet with tears, and wipe them with the hairs of her head?"

"O _Joyce_, let her 'bide!" crieth _Mother_, and the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Amen!" saith _Father_, gently.

"But who is she?" saith _Mother_, as if something fearfully.

"She is,"--Aunt _Joyce's_ voice was very husky--"she is what our _Milisent_ would have been, if the Lord had not stayed her right at the last minute."

So then I knew that _Blanche Lewthwaite_ was found at last.

There were none in the chamber, as it happed, but _Father_, _Mother_, and me, when _Aunt_ came in.

"And what hath she to say?" asks _Mother_.

"She will not talk of the past," saith Aunt _Joyce_: "and, G.o.d wot, I shall not ask her."

"Is she very 'shamed and sorrowful?"

"Never a whit. She is more angered than aught else."

"Angered!--with whom?"

"With _Providence_, I take it," quoth Aunt _Joyce_, something drily.

"She counts a miracle should have been wrought for her to hinder her from sinning, and that since it were not, there can be no blame laid at her door."

"So hard as that!" saith _Mother_.

"May-be not all through," Aunt _Joyce_ makes answer. "The crust seems thick at present: but there may be a soft spot deep down below. I shall work till I find it."

"Is she not softened toward thee?" asks _Father_.

"Me!" saith Aunt _Joyce_, with a bitter little laugh. "Why, so far as I can make out, I am but one step fairer than _Providence_ in her eyes. I gat not much flattery this even, I can tell you--no more than I had of _Milly_ a month gone. Nay, _Aubrey_. He that would save a sinner against his will must not expect thanks from him."

"Shall I go to her, _Joyce_?" saith _Mother_, and rose up.

"As thou wilt, _Lettice_," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "Only, an' thou so dost, look not for any fair words save out of thine own mouth. She is in the green chamber. I locked her in."

"Hath she had to eat?" saith _Mother_.

"Ay; I saw to that ere I came below."

_Mother_ went forth of the chamber.

"May I see her, Aunt _Joyce_," said I, "or must I not?"

"Better not at this present, _Nell_," she made answer. "But--I am not sure that it were not well for _Milly_."

When _Mother_ came down again, she saith in a despairing voice, and spreading forth her hands--

"O _Joyce_, she is as hard as a stone!"

"Ay," saith Aunt _Joyce_, quietly. "So, I reckon, was _Peter_, until the Lord turned and looked upon him. That melted him, _Lettice_. Leave us take _Blanche_ to the Lord."

"Sin is the most hardening thing in the world, dear heart," saith _Father_, sadly.

So here is poor _Blanche_, locked of the green chamber, with Aunt _Joyce_ for her waiting-maid, for none other will she have to enter--not even _Mother_, for her one talk with _Blanche_ hath sore distressed her.

"Wait a while, _Lettice_," saith Aunt _Joyce_: "I will bid thee when I reckon any good should come of it."

_Milisent_ hath been told, and seemeth much touched therewith: but none of us have yet seen _Blanche_. Poor heart! may the good Lord have mercy upon her!

SELWICK HALL, JANUARY YE XII.

_Mother_, and I with her, went up this morrow to _Mere Lea_, to do Mistress _Lewthwaite_ to wit touching _Blanche_. We found her right busy a-making of pies, and _Alice_ by her paring of apples. She gave us good welcome, and we sat us down, and talked a short while of other matter. Then saith _Mother_:--

"Suffer me to ask at you, Mistress _Lewthwaite_, if you have heard ever any news of _Blanche_?"

Mistress _Lewthwaite_ shaked her head sorrowfully.

"Nay, not we," saith she. "It should be a good day we did. Albeit, her father is sore angered: yet methinks if he did verily stand face to face with the child, he should not be so hard on her as he talks now."

"Then I hope the good day is coming," saith _Mother_. "For methinks, neighbour, we have heard somewhat."