Part 32 (1/2)
”Ay. There's a gentlewoman i' th' bower to see thee.”
”Nay,--a gentlewoman! Who can it be?”
”I've told thee all I know. Hoo [she] wanted Mistress Clare; and I said hoo were down at th' parsonage; then hoo said, 'Is Barbara Polwhele here?' And I said, 'Ay, hoo's come o'er to fot [fetch] somewhat for th'
young mistresses.' So hoo said, 'Then I'll speak wi' her.' So I took her to my Lady, for I see hoo were a gentlewoman; and hoo's i' th'
bower.”
”I wis nought of her,” said Barbara. ”I never looked to see none here that I know.”
”Well, thou'd best go to her,” decided Jennet Barbara hurried down, and found an old silver-haired lady sitting with Lady Enville, and addressed by her with marked deference.
”Well, Bab!” said the old lady, who was brisk enough for her years; ”thou dost not seem no younger since I saw thee in Cornwall, and the mirror yonder saith neither am I.”
”Marry La'kin! but if I thought it metely possible, I would say it were surely Mistress Philippa Ba.s.set!”
”I will not confute thee, Bab, though it be but metely possible,” said the lively old lady, laughing. ”I came to see the child Clare; but hearing she was hence, I then demanded thee. I will go down to the parsonage anon. I would like well to see Robin, and Thekla likewise.”
”Eh, Mistress Philippa! but there be great and sore changes sithence you were used to come unto the Lamb to see Mistress Avery!”
”Go to, Barbara! Hast dwelt sixty years, more or less, in this world, and but now found out that all things therein be changeable? What be thy changes to mine? Child, there is not a soul that I loved in those days when Isoult dwelt in the Minories, that is not now with G.o.d in Heaven. Not a soul! Fifty years gone, brethren and sisters, there were seven of us. All gone, save me!--a dry old bough, that sticketh yet upon the tree whence all the fair green shoots have been lopped away.
And I the eldest of all! The ways of G.o.d's Providence be strange.”
”I said so much once unto Master Robin,” responded Barbara with a smile; ”but he answered, 'twas no matter we apprehended not the same, for the Lord knew all, and ordered the end from the beginning.”
”He hath ordered me a lonely journey, and a long,” said Philippa sadly.
”Well! even a Devon lane hath its turning.”
”And what brought you thus far north, Mistress Philippa, an' I make not too bold?”
”Why, I came to see Bridget's childre. I have bidden these four months gone with Jack Carden. And being so nigh ye all, I thought I would never turn home without seeing you.”
Lady Bridget Carden was the daughter of Philippa Ba.s.set's step-father.
They were not really related; but they had been brought up as sisters from their girlhood.
”Nigh, Mistress Philippa!” exclaimed Barbara in surprise. ”What, from Ches.h.i.+re hither!”
Philippa laughed merrily. ”Marry come up, Bab! thou hast not dwelt seven years in Calais, as I have, and every yard of lawn for thy partlets to be fetched from London, and every stone of thy meat to boot.
Why, thou earnest thine own self as far as from Cornwall.”
”Eh, marry La'kin! Never came I that way but once, and if G.o.d be served, [if it be His will] I never look to turn again.”
Philippa turned to Lady Enville, who had sat, or rather reclined, playing with a hand-screen, while she listened to the preceding conversation. ”And how goeth it with the child, tell me, Orige? She is not yet wed, trow?”
”Not yet,” replied Lady Enville, with her soft smile. ”I shall ne'er be astonied if she wed with Arthur Tremayne. 'Twere a very fair match, and he is good enough for Clare.”
”A good stock, and an old; and a good lad, I trust. Thou must have a care, Orige, not to cast the child away on one that will not deal well and truly by her.”
”Oh, Arthur would deal well,” said Lady Enville carelessly. ”He is a mighty sobersides, and so is Clare. They were cut out for one another.”