"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 Cheshire 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."

"Poor child!" said Philippa.

"'Poor child'--and wherefore, Mrs Ba.s.set, say you so?"

"Because, Orige, it seemeth me she hath no mother."

"Nay, Mistress Ba.s.set, what signify you?"

"No mother, Orige--or as good as none. An' Clare had been my child, I had never handed her o'er, to Arthur Tremayne nor any other, with no more heed than a nap.r.o.n-full of sticks."

"Well, in very deed, I do take the better care of the twain for Blanche to be well matched. Lo' you, Mistress Ba.s.set, Blanche is of good lineage; and she is rare lovesome--well-nigh as fair as I was at her years--so that I would not have her to cast herself away, in no wise: but for Clare--which hath small beauty, and is of little sort--it maketh not much matter whom she may wed."

"Good lack, Orige Enville, is a maid's heart no matter?--is a maid's life no matter? Why, woman! thou lackest stirring up with a poker! I marvel if I were sent hither to do it."

"Gramercy, Mistress Ba.s.set!" cried Lady Enville in horror. "That stirring up is it which I can in no wise abide."

"The which shows how much thou lackest it. But I am afeard thou art too far gone for any good. Well, I will look after the child; and I will set Thekla on to do it. And if I find Arthur to be a good man and true, and Clare reasonable well affected unto him,--trust me, I will not interfere. But if not,--Orige, I will not see Walter's child cast away, if thou wilt."

"Nay, good lack, Mrs Ba.s.set, what would you do?"

Lady Enville knew the energy and determination of the old lady's character, and that if she set her mind upon a course of action, she was pretty sure to carry it through, and to make other people do as she wished.

"I will do _that_" said Philippa decidedly. "I will judge whether the lot thou hast chalked out for Clare be fit for her."

"But in case you judge it not so, what then?"

"Then I will have the child away."

"I could ne'er allow that, Mistress Ba.s.set," said Lady Enville with unusual decision.

"I shall ne'er ask thee, Orige," returned Philippa, with a slightly contemptuous stress upon the p.r.o.noun. "I will talk with thine husband; I trust he will hear reason, though thou mayest not. And I could find good places enow for Clare; I have many friends in the Court. My Lady Dowager of Kent [Susan Bertie, the only daughter of Katherine d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk] would work, I know, for Isoult Barry's granddaughter; and so would Beatrice Vivian [a fict.i.tious person], Isoult's old comrade, that hath a daughter and a niece to boot in the Queen's chamber. And I dare say my Lady Scrope [Note 1] would do somewhat for me. Any way, I would a.s.say it."

"What, to have Clare in the Queen's Majesty's Court?" demanded Lady Enville, her eyes sparkling with interest and pleasure. "O Mistress Ba.s.set, could you not compa.s.s the same for Blanche?"

"In the Court! By my troth, nay!" said Philippa heartily. "I would never set maid that I cared a pin for in Queen Bess's Court. Soothly, there _be_ good women there, but--And as for Blanche,--I will see her, Orige, ere I say aught. Blanche hath stole all thine heart, methinks-- so much as there was to steal."

"But what meant you touching Clare, Mistress Ba.s.set?"

"What meant I? Why, to have her with some worthy and well-conditioned dame of good degree, that should see her well bestowed. I would trust my Lady Dowager of Kent, forsooth, or my Lady Scrope--she is a good woman and a pleasant--or maybe--"

"And my Lady Scrope is herself in the Court, I take it," said Lady Enville, pursuing her own train of thought, independent of that of Philippa.

"Ay, and were therefore the less fitting," said Philippa coolly. "Take no thought thereabout, Orige; I will do nought till I have seen the maidens."

"But, Mistress Ba.s.set! you would ne'er count that mine husband's word, that is not in very deed her father, should weigh against mine, that am her true and natural mother?" urged Lady Enville in an injured tone.

"Thou art her natural mother, Orige, 'tis sooth," was the uncompromising answer: "but whether true or no, that will I not say. I rather think nay than yea. And if thine husband be better father unto the child than thou mother, he is the fitter to say what shall come of the maid. And I can alway reason with a man easilier than a woman. Women be geese, mostly!"

With which reasonably plain indication of her sentiments, the old lady rose and took her leave. She would have no escort to the parsonage.

She would come back and be introduced to Sir Thomas when she had seen the girls. And away she trudged, leaving Lady Enville in the undesirable situation of one who feels that a stronger will than his own is moulding his fate, and running counter to his inclinations.