Joyce Morrell's Harvest Part 38

"I take it," saith Aunt _Joyce_, "if there were not all that for which my nature doth crave. But, mark you, my renewed nature."

"Then surely we must know our friends again?" saith _Helen_.

"He was a queer fellow that first questioned that," saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"If I be not to know _Anstace Morrell_, I am well a.s.sured I shall not know her sister _Joyce_!"

"But thereby hangeth a dreadful question, _Joyce_!" answereth my Lady _Stafford_. "If we must needs know the souls that be found, how about them that be missed?"

Aunt _Joyce_ was silent for a moment. Then saith she--

"The goat doth but hurt himself, _Dulcie_, to pull too hard at the tether. Neither thou nor I can turn over the pages of the Book of Life.

It may be that we shall both find souls whom we thought to miss.

May-be, in the very last moment of life, the Lord may save souls that have been greatly prayed for, though they that be left behind never wit it till they join the company above. We poor blindlings must leave that in His hands unto whom all hearts be open, and who willeth not the death of any sinner. 'As His majesty is, so is His mercy.' Of this one thing am I sure, that no soul shall be found in h.e.l.l which should have rather chosen Heaven. They shall go 'to their own place:' the place they are fit for, and the place they choose."

"But how can we forget them?" she replieth.

"If we are to forget them," saith Aunt _Joyce_, "the Lord will know how to compa.s.s it. I have reached the end of my tether, _Dulcie_; and to pull thereat doth alway hurt me. I will step back, by thy leave."

As I listed the two voices, both something touched, methought it should be one soul in especial of whom both were thinking, and I guessed that were Mr _Leonard Norris_.

"And yet," saith my Lady _Stafford_, "that thought hath its perilous side, _Joyce_. 'Tis so easy for a man to think he shall be saved at the last minute, howsoe'er he live."

"Be there any thoughts that have not a perilous side?" saith Aunt _Joyce_. "As for that, _Dulcie_, my rule is, to be as easy as ever I can in my charitable hopes for other folk; and as hard as ever I can on this old woman _Joyce_, that I do find such rare hard work to pull of the right road. I cannot help other folks' lives: but I can see to it that I make mine own calling sure. That is the safe side, I reckon."

"The safe side, ay: but men mostly love to walk on the smooth side."

"Why, so do I," quoth Aunt _Joyce_: "but I would be on the side that shall come forth smooth at the end."

"Ah, if all would but think of that!" saith my Lady, and she fetched a sigh.

"We should all soon be in Heaven," Aunt _Joyce_ made answer. "But thou art right, _Dulcie_. He that shall leave to look to his chart till the last hour of his journey is like to reach home very weary and worn, if he come at all. He that will go straight on, and reckoneth to get home after some fas.h.i.+on, is not like to knock at the gate ere it be shut up.

The easiest matter in all the world is to miss Heaven."

SELWICK HALL, MARCH YE XXV.

This morrow, _Milisent_ was avised to ask at _Walter_, in a tone somewhat satirical, if he wist how his _Excellency_ did.

"Nay, _Milly_, mind me not of my follies, prithee," quoth he, flus.h.i.+ng.

"Never cast a man's past ill-deeds in his face, _Milly_," softly saith _Mother_. "His conscience (if it be awake) shall mind him of them oft enough."

"I reckon she shall have forgotten by now how to spell his name," saith _Father_. "There be many such at Court."

"Yet they have hearts in the Court, trow?" saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"A few," quoth _Father_. "But they mostly come forth thereof. For one like my Lady of _Surrey_--(_Lettice_ will conceive me)--there is many a Lady of _Richmond_."

"Oh, surely not, _Aubrey_!" crieth _Mother_, earnestly.

"True, dear heart," answereth he. "Let but a woman enter the Court--any Court--and verily it should seem to change her heart to stone."

"Now, son of _Adam_!" saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"Well, daughter of _Eva_?" _Father_ makes answer.

"Casting the blame on the women," saith she. "Right so did _Adam_, and all his sons have trod of his steps."

"I thought she deserved it," saith _Father_.

"She deserved it a deal less than he!" quoth Aunt _Joyce_, in an heat.

"He sinned with his eyes open, and she was deceived of the serpent."

"Look you, she blamed the serpent, belike," saith Sir _Robert_, laughing.

"I take it, she was an epitome in little of all future women, as _Adam_ of all men to come," saith _Father_. "But, _Joyce_, methinks _Paul_ scarce beareth thee out."

"I have heard folks to say _Paul_ was not a woman's friend," saith Sir _Robert_.

"That's not true," quoth Aunt _Joyce_.

"Why, how so, my mistress?" Sir _Robert_ makes merry answer. "He bade them keep silence in the churches, and be subject to the men, and not to teach: was that over courteous, think you?"

"Call me a _Frenchman_, if I stand that!" crieth Aunt _Joyce_. "Sir _Robert Stafford_, be so good as listen to me."

"So I do, with both mine ears, I do ensure you," saith he, laughing.

"Now shall we meet with our demerits!" saith _Father_. "I pity thee not o'er much, _Robin_, for thou hast pulled it on thine own head."

"My head will stand it," quoth Sir _Robert_. "Now then, Mistress _Joyce_, prithee go to."

Then quoth she, standing afore him--"I know well you can find me places diverse where _Paul_ did bid wives that they should obey their husbands; and therein hold I with _Paul_. But I do defy you in this company to find me so much as one place wherein he biddeth women to obey men. And as for teaching, in his Epistle unto _t.i.tus_, he plainly commandeth that the aged women shall teach the young ones. Moreover, I pray you, had not _Philip_ the evangelist four virgin daughters, which did prophesy-- to wit, preach? And did not _Priscilla_, no whit less than _Aquila_, instruct _Apollos_?"

"Mistress _Joyce_, the Queen's Bench lost an eloquent advocate in you."

"That's a man all over!" quoth Aunt _Joyce_, with a little stamp of her foot. "When he cannot answer a woman's reasoning, trust him to pay her a compliment, and reckon that shall serve her turn, poor fool, a deal better than the other."

Sir _Robert_ laughed as though he were rarely diverted.

"_Dulcie_ may do your bidding an' she list," saith Aunt _Joyce_, "but trust me, so shall not I."

"Mistress _Joyce_, therein will I trust you as fully as may be," saith he, yet laughing. "Yet, I pray you, satisfy my curious fantasy, and tell me wherein you count _Paul_ a friend to the women?"

"By reason that he told them plainly they were happier unwed," saith Aunt _Joyce_: "and find me an other man that so reckoneth. Mark you, he saith not better, nor holier, nor wiser; but happier. That is it which most men will deny."

"Doth it not in any wise depend on the woman?" saith Sir _Robert_, with a comical set of his lips. "It depends on the man, a sight more," saith she.

"But, my mistress, bethink you of the saw--'A man is what a woman makes him.'"

"Oh, is he so?" crieth Aunt _Joyce_, in scorn. "She's a deal more what he makes her. 'A good _Jack_, a good _Gill_!' Saws cut two ways, Sir _Robert_."