"'Friends!'" she replied, with an indescribable intonation. "I fancy I shall take them all with me. Do as I bid thee, David, and trouble not thyself to understand me."

David felt silenced, and asked no more questions.

"Rudolph must have an English name," said Countess abruptly. "Let him be called Ralph henceforth. That is the English version of his own name, and he will soon grow accustomed to it."

"What is he to call you?" asked Christian.

"What he pleases," was the answer.

What it pleased Rudolph to do was to copy the other children, and say "Mother;" but he applied the term impartially alike to Countess and to Christian, till the latter took him aside, and suggested that it would be more convenient if he were to restrict the term to one of them.

"You see," she said, "if you call us both by one name, we shall never know which of us you mean."

"Oh, it does not matter," answered Master Rudolph with imperial unconcern. "Either of you could b.u.t.ton me up and tie my shoes. But if you like, I'll call you Christie."

"I think it would be better if you did," responded Christian with praiseworthy gravity.

From the time that this matter was settled until the journey was fairly begun, Countess showed an amount of impatience and uneasiness which it sometimes took all Christian's meekness to bear. She spent the whole day, while the light lasted, at the little lattice, silently studying a large square volume, which she carefully wrapped every evening in silk brocade, and then in a woollen handkerchief, placing it under the pillow on which she slept, and which had come from Leo's house for her use.

Beyond that one day's expedition, she never quitted the hut till they left Dorchester. Of the hardships inseparable from her temporary position she did not once complain; all her impatience was connected with some inner uncertainty or apprehension which she did not choose to reveal. Rudolph looked far more disdainfully than she on the rye-crusts and ragged garments of his companions.

At last, on the Sunday morning--for n.o.body dreamed in those days of not travelling on Sunday after ma.s.s--a small party of armed servants arrived at the hut, leading three palfreys and four baggage-mules, beside their own horses. Three of the mules were already loaded. Countess issued her orders, having evidently considered and settled every thing beforehand. Christian was to ride one palfrey, Countess the other, and David the third, with Rudolph in front of him. His children were to be disposed of, in panniers, on the back of the unloaded mule, with a lad of about fifteen years, who was one of the escort, behind them.

"Hast thou found us any convoy, Josce?" asked Countess of the man who took direction of the escort.

Josce doffed his cap to answer his mistress, to whom he showed considerable deference.

"Deuslesalt journeys to-day as far as Wallingford," he said, "and Simeon the usurer, who has a strong guard, will go thence to-morrow to Windsor."

"Good. Set forth!" said Countess.

So they set out from the mud hovel. The snow was still deep in many parts, but it had been trodden down in the well-worn tracks, such as was the high road from Oxford to London. Countess rode first of the party, ordering David to ride beside her; Christian came next, by the mule which bore her children; the armed escort was behind. A mile away from the hut they joined the imposing retinue of Deuslesalt, who was a wealthy silk-merchant, and in their company the journey to Wallingford was accomplished. There Countess and Rudolph found shelter with Deuslesalt in the house of a rich Jew, while David, Christian, and the children were received as travellers in a neighbouring hospital; for an hospital, in those days, was not necessarily a place where the sick were treated, but was more of the nature of a large almshouse, where all the inmates lived and fared in common.

On the second day they joined the usurer's party, which was larger and stronger than that of the silk-merchant. At Windsor they found an inn where they were all lodged; and the following day they entered London.

It now appeared that Countess had in some mysterious manner made preparation for her coming; for they rode straight to a small house at the corner of Mark Lane, which they found plainly but comfortably furnished to receive them. Countess paid liberally and dismissed her escort, bade David unpack the goods she had brought, and dispose of the jewels in the strong safes built into the walls, desired Christian to let her know if anything necessary for the house were not provided, and established herself comfortably at the window with her big book, and Rudolph on a ha.s.sock at her feet.

"David!" she said, looking up, when the unpacking was about half done.

David touched his forelock in answer.

"I wish thou wouldst buy a dog and cat."

"Both?" demanded David, rather surprised. "They will fight."

"Oh, the cat is for the children," said Countess coolly; "I don't want one. But let the dog be the biggest thou canst get."

"I think I'd have the dog by himself," said David. "The children will be quite as well pleased. And if you want a big one, he is pretty sure to be good-tempered."

So David and Rudolph went to buy a dog, and returned with an amiable s.h.a.ggy monster quite as tall as the latter--white and tan, with a smile upon his lips, and a fine feathery tail, which little Helwis fell at once to stroking. This eligible member of the family received the name of Olaf, and was clearly made to understand that he must tolerate anything from the children, and nothing from a burglar.

Things were settling down, and custom already beginning to come into the little shop, when one evening, as they sat round the fire, Countess surprised David with a question--

"David, what did the priest to thee when thou wert baptised?"

David looked up in some astonishment.

"Why, he baptised me," said he simply.

"I want to know all he did," said Countess.

"Don't think I could tell you if I tried. He put some oil on me, and some spittle,--and water, of course,--and said ever so many prayers."

"What did he say in his prayers?"

"Eh, how can I tell you? They were all in Latin."

"The Lord does not speak French or English, then?" demanded Countess satirically.

"Well!" said David, scratching his head, "when you put it that way--"

"I don't see what other way to put it. But I thought they baptised with water?"

"Oh, yes, the real baptism is with water."

"Then what is the good of the unreal baptism, with oil and other rubbish?"

"I cry you mercy, but you must needs ask the priest. I'm only an ignorant man."

"Dost thou think he knows?"

"The priest? Oh, of course."

"I should like to be as sure as thou art. Can any body baptise?--or must it be done by a priest only?"

"Oh, only--well--" David corrected himself. "Of course the proper person is a priest. But in case of necessity, it can be done by a layman. A woman, even, may do it, if a child be in danger of death.

But then, there is no exorcism nor anointing; only just the baptising with water."

"I should have thought that was all there need be, at any time."

With that remark Countess dropped the subject. But a few days later she resumed the catechising, though this time she chose Christian as her informant.

"What do Christians mean by baptism?"

Christian paused a moment. She had not hitherto reflected on the esoteric meaning of the ceremony to which she had been ordered to submit as the introductory rite of her new religion.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "it must mean--confession."

"Confession of what?" inquired Countess.

"Of our faith in the Lord Jesus," replied Christian boldly.