Joyce Morrell's Harvest Part 13

We found old _Nanny_--that is too infirm for aught but to sit of a chair in the suns.h.i.+ne--so doing by the window, beside her a little table, and thereon a great Bible open, with her spectacles of her nose, that she pulled off and wiped, and set down of the book to keep her place.

"Well, _Nanny_!" saith Aunt _Joyce_. "'Sitting down under His shadow,'

dear heart?"

"Ay, Mistress _Joyce_," saith she, "and 'with great delight.'"

I marvel if old folk do really like to read the Bible. I never did.

And the older I grow, the lesser doth it like me. Can they mean it, trow? If they do, then I suppose I shall like it when I am as old as _Nanny_. But, good lack! what gloomsome manner of life must that be, wherein one shall find one's diversion in reading of the Bible!

I know _Father_ and _Mother_ would say clean contrary. But they, see you, were bred up never to see a Bible in _English_ till they were grown: which is as different as can be to the like of us maids, that never knew the day when it lay not of the hall table. But therein runs my pen too fast, for _Anstace_ can well remember Queen _Mary's_ time, though _Nell_ scarce can do so,--only some few matters here and there.

So then Aunt _Joyce_ and _Nan_ fell a-talking,--and scarce so much as a word could I conceive. [Note 1.] They might well-nigh as good have talked _Greek_ for me. Yet one matter will I set down the which I mean to think o'er--some time, when I am come to divert me with the Bible, and am as old as _Nanny_. Not now, of course.

"Where art reading, _Nanny_?" saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"In _Esaias_, Mistress _Joyce_. Fifty-eighth chapter, first and second verses. There's fine reading in _Esaias_."

"Ay, _Nan_, there is," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "But what toucheth it? I am ill set to remember chapter and verse."

"Well, Mistress, first it saith, 'Show My people their transgression.'

And i' th' very next verse,--'Yet they seek me daily,'--nay, there's more--'they take delight in approaching to G.o.d.'"

"Well, _Nan_? That reads strange,--no doth it?"

"Ah, it doth, Mistress _Joyce_. But I think, look ye, there's a deal i'

th' word _approaching_. See ye, it saith not they take delight to get near. Nay, folk o' that make has a care not to get too near. They'll lay down a chalk line, and they'll stop outside on't. If they'd only come near enough, th' light 'd burn up all them transgressions: but, ye see, that wouldn't just suit 'em. These is folk that wants to have th'

Lord--a tidy way from 'em--and keep th' transgressions too. Eh, Mistress, but when a man can pray right through th' hundred and thirty-ninth Psalm, his heart's middlin' perfect wi' the Lord.

Otherwise, he'll boggle at them last verses. We don't want Him to search us when we know He'll find yon wedge o' gold and yon _Babylonish_ garment if He do. Nay, we don't so!"

Now, I know not o'er well what old _Nan_ meaneth: but this do I know-- that whenever I turn o'er the _Psalter_, I ever try to get yon Psalm betwixt two leaves, and turn them o'er both together, so that I see not a word on't. I reckon _Nan_ should say my heart was not perfect by a great way. Well, may-be she'd be none so far out.

SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE XXIX.

To-morrow shall be the last day of my month, and _Tuesday_ even must I give up the book to _Edith_. I shall not tear out the leaves till the last minute, and I will keep them when I do.

I do never see nought of my _Protection_ of a _Sunday_, but all other days meet I him now (whenas I can) in the little copse that lieth _Thirlmere_ way, not so far from _Nanny's_ hut. Last even was he essaying to win me for to wed him (as he hath done afore) without _Father_ and _Mother_ knowing. I have ever held off till now: but I am not so sure I shall do it much longer. He saith he wist a _Popish_ priest that should do it: and it so done, _Father_ and _Mother_ must needs come in and give us leave to be wed rightly in church. But I will consider of the same a day or twain longer.

As to setting down what we do of a _Sunday_, 'tis alway the same o'er again, so it should be to no good. Once is enough for all.

SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE LAST.

Such a fright have I had this morrow, I may scantly hold my pen. I set forth for the copse where I do meet with my _Protection_, and had well-nigh reached it,--verily, I could discern him coming through the trees to meet me--when from _Nanny's_ hut, right upon us, who should come out save _Father_, and _Mother_, and _Edith_, their own selves. I cast but a glint to him that he should not note me, and walked on to meet them.

"Why, _Milly_!" saith _Mother_. "I wist not thou wert coming this way, child."

"Under your pleasure, _Mother_, no more did I of you," said I.

"Why, _Milly_, do but look at yon gentleman!" saith _Edith_, as he pa.s.sed by us, taking no note of us at all. "Is it not the same we met on Saint _Hubert's_ Isle?"

"Is it so?" said I, making believe to look after him, the rather since it gave me an excuse to turn my back on them. "He bears a green jerkin,--otherwise--"

Wherein I am very sure I said _no_ falsity, as whatso _Father_ might say.

"I do think it is the same," saith _Edith_. "Came he ever to speak with you, _Father_?"

"Nay, my la.s.s, I mind him not," saith _Father_.

"He is not ill-looking," saith _Mother_.

"May-be not," quoth _Father_. "Thou art a better judge of such matters than I, dear heart. I only note the way a man's soul looketh out of his eyes, not the colour of the eyes whence it looketh."

"Now, _Father_, under your good leave, that is not well said," _Edith_ makes answer: "for you have your own self the fairest eyes ever a man's soul looked forth of."

_Father_ laughs at this, and doffs his cap merrily.

"Your very humble servant, Mistress _Editha Louvaine_," quoth he: "when I do desire to send forth to the world a book of all my beauties, learning, and virtues, I will bid you to write therein touching mine eyes. They serve me well to see withal, I thank G.o.d, and beyond that issue have I never troubled me regarding them."

"And how liked you the manner of Sir _Edwin Tregarvon's_ soul looking forth, _Father_?" saith _Edith_, also laughing.

"Why, that could I not see," quoth he, "for he keeping his eyes bent upon the ground, it did not look forth. But I cannot say his face altogether pleased me."

How mighty strange is it that all they--and in especial _Father_, that I have alway reckoned so wise--should have so little discernment!

Well, methought, as they were there, I must needs come home with them: and this afternoon, if I can steal hence without any seeing me, will I go yet again to the copse, to see if I may find my _Protection_: for I have well-nigh granted the privy wedding he hath pled so hard for, and this morrow we thought to order the inwards thereof [settle the details]. As next _Sunday_ at even, saith he, I am to steal forth of the garden door, and he shall meet me in the lane with an hackney and two or three serving-men for guard: and so go we forth to _Ambleside_, where the priest shall join our hands, and then come back and entreat _Father_ and _Mother's_ pardon and blessing. I dare be bound there shall be much commotion, and some displeasant speeches; but I trust all shall blow o'er in time: and after all (as saith my _Protection_) when there is no hope that _Father_ and _Mother_ should give us leave aforehand, what else can we do?

Verily, it is a sore trouble that elders will stand thus in young folks'

way that do love each other. And my _Protection_ is not so much elder than I. In the stead of only ten or fifteen years younger than _Father_, he is twenty-five well reckoned, having but four-and-thirty years: and I was twenty my last birthday, which is two months gone. And if he look (as he alloweth) something elder than his years, it is, as he hath told me, but trouble and sorrow, of which he hath known much. My poor _Protection_! in good sooth, I am sorry for his trouble.

I shall not tear out my leaves afore I am back, and meantime, I do keep the book right heedfully under lock and key.

As for any paying of two-pences, that is o'er for me now; so there were no good to reckon them up. My n.o.ble _Protection_ saith, when he hath but once gat me safe to the Court, then shall I have a silken gown every day I do live, and jewelling so much as ever I shall desire. He will set off his _Amiability_ (quoth he) that all shall see and wonder at her. Though I count _Father_ doth love me, yet am I sure, my _Protection_ loveth me a deal the more. 'Tis only fitting, therefore, that I cleave to him rather.

Now must I go forth and see if I may meet with him.

Note 1. The words _understand_ and _conceive_ have changed places since the days of Elizabeth. To understand then meant to originate an idea: to conceive, to realise an imparted thought.

CHAPTER FIVE.

AUNT JOYCE SPOILS THE GAME.

"We shun two paths, my maiden, When strangers' way we tell-- That which ourselves we know not, That which we know too well.

"I 'never knew!' Thou think'st it?

Well! Better so, to-day.

The years lie thick and mossy O'er that long-silent way.