that the famine would pass away and the sealed springs be open again for the children of grace to drink and be refreshed.
This done, he took his breakfast in silence, as was his wont, loving not to be disturbed by any earthly matters when his mind was full of his morning discourse. When he had eaten the bread and meat and taken the cup of cider, he arose and went back to his own room, and shut the door. We should have no more speech of him until dinner-time.
'I will speak with him, my dear,' said my mother. 'But not yet. Let us wait till we hear from Sir Christopher.'
'I would that my father had read us a passage of encouragement and promise on this morning of all mornings,' I said.
My mother turned over the leaves of the Bible. 'I will read you a verse of encouragement,' she said. 'It is the word of God as much as the Book of the Prophet Amos.' So she found and read for my comfort words which had a new meaning to me: —
'My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.'
And again, these that follow: —
'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. If a man would give all the substance of his house for love it would utterly be contemned.'
In these gracious, nay, these enraptured words, doth the Bible speak of love; and though I am not so ignorant as not to know that it is the love of the Church for Christ, yet I am persuaded by my own spiritual experience – whatever Doctors of Divinity may argue – that the earthly love of husband and wife may be spoken of in these very words as being the type of that other and higher love. And in this matter I know that my mother would also confirm my judgment.
It might have been between nine and ten that Humphrey came. Surely he was changed more than Robin: for the great white periwig which he wore (being now a physician) falling upon his shoulders did partly hide the deformity of his wry shape, and the black velvet coat did also become him mightily. As for his face, that was not changed at all. It had been grave and serious in youth; it was now more grave and more serious in manhood. He stood in the doorway, not seeing me – I was making a pudding for dinner, with my sleeves rolled up and my arms white with flour.
'Mistress Eykin,' he said, 'are old friends passed out of mind?'
'Why,' my mother left her wheel and gave him her hand, ''tis Humphrey! I knew that we should see thee this morning, Humphrey. Is thy health good, my son, and is all well with thee?'
'All is well, madam, and my health is good. How is my master – thy husband?'
'He is always well, and – but thou knowest what manner of life he leads. Of late he hath been much disquieted; he is restless – his mind runs much upon the prophecies of war and pestilence. It is the news from London and the return of the Mass which keeps him uneasy. Go in and see him, Humphrey. He will willingly suffer thee to disturb him, though we must not go near him in his hours of study.'
'Presently; but where is my old playfellow – where is Alice?'
'She is behind you, Humphrey.'
He turned, and his pale face flushed when he saw me.
'Alice?' he cried. 'Is this truly Alice? Nay, she is changed indeed! I knew not – I could not expect – nay, how could one expect' —
'There is no change,' said my mother, sharply. 'Alice was a child, and is now a woman; that is all.'
'Humphrey expects,' I said, 'that we should all stop still while Time went on. You were to become a Bachelor of Medicine, sir, and a Fellow of All Souls' College, and to travel in Italy and France, and to come back in a velvet coat, and a long sword, and a periwig over your shoulders; and I was to be a little girl still.'
Humphrey shook his head.
'It is not only that,' he said; 'though I confess that one did not make due allowance for the flight of Time. It is that the sweet-faced child has become' —
'No, Humphrey,' I said, 'I want no compliments. Go now, sir, and speak with my father. Afterwards you shall tell me all that you have been doing.'
He obeyed, and opened my father's door.
'Humphrey!' My father sprang to his feet. 'Welcome, my pupil! Thou bringest good news? Nay; I have received thy letters: I read the good news in thy face – I see it in thine eyes. Welcome home!'
'Sir, I have, indeed, great news,' said Humphrey.
Then the door was closed.
He stayed there for half an hour and more; and we heard from within earnest talk – my father's voice sometimes uplifted, loud and angry, but Humphrey's always low, as if he did not wish us to overhear them. So, not to seem unto each other as if we were listening, mother and I talked of other things, such as the lightness of the pudding, and the quantity of suet which should be put into it, and the time it should boil in the pot, and other things, as women can whose hearts are full, yet they must needs be talking.
'Father hath much to say to Humphrey,' I said, after a time; 'he doth not use to like such interruption.'
'Humphrey's conversation is no interruption, my dear. They think the same thoughts and talk the same language. Your father may teach and admonish us, but he can only converse with a scholar such as himself. It is not the least evil of our oppression that he hath been cut off from the society of learned men, in which he used to take so much delight. If Humphrey remains here a little while you shall see your father lose the eager and anxious look which hath of late possessed him. He will talk to Humphrey, and will clear his mind. Then he will be contented again for a while, or, at least, resigned.'
Presently Humphrey came forth. His face was grave and serious. My father came out of the room after him.
'Let us talk more,' he said; 'let us resume our talk. Join me on the hillside, where none can hear us. It is, indeed, the Vision of the Basket of Summer Fruit that we read this morning.' His face was working with some inward excitement, and his eyes were full of a strange light as of a glad conqueror, or of one – forbid the thought! – who was taking a dire revenge. He strode down the garden and out into the lanes.
'Thus,' said my mother, 'will he walk out, and sometimes remain in the woods, walking, preaching to the winds, and swinging his arms the whole day long. Art thou a physician, and canst thou heal him, Humphrey?'
'If the cause be removed, the disease will be cured. Perhaps before long the cause will be removed.'
'The cause – oh! the cause – what is the cause but the tyranny of the Law? He who was ordered by Heaven itself to preach hath been, perforce, silent for five-and-twenty years. His very life hath been taken from him. And you talk of removing the cause!'
'Madam, if the Law suffer him once more to preach freely, would that satisfy him – and you?'
My mother shook her head. 'The Law,' she said, 'now we have a Papist on the throne is far more likely to lead my husband to the stake than to set him free.'
'That shall we shortly see,' said Humphrey.
My
