"'Less like than Paul's steeple to a dagger sheath,'" quoted Dr Thorpe, who was rather fond of proverbs.

"Go to, Jack! we are all for ourselves in this world," responded Mr Underhill philosophically. "As to like, it may be no more like than chalk to cheese, and yet be in every man's mouth from Aldgate to the Barbican. My Lord Protector is neither better nor worse than other men.

If you or I were in his shoes, we should do the like."

"I trust not, friend," said John, smiling.

"A rush for your trust!" laughed Mr Underhill. "I would not trust either of us."

"But I would so!" said Isoult warmly. "Mr Underhill, you surely think not that if Jack were Lord Protector, he should strive and plot for the King to espouse our Kate?"

"Of course he would," said Underhill coolly. "And so would you."

"Never!" she cried.

"Well, I am sure I should. Think you I would not by my good will see my Nan a queen?" answered he.

"With a reasonable chance of Tower Hill?" suggested Avery. "You and I have seen queens come to _that_, Ned Underhill."

"Well, there is better air at the Lime Hurst," replied Underhill sententiously.

A long conference was held concerning the repairs at Bradmond. The resolution finally adopted was that John should ride home and ascertain what the state of affairs really was. Hitherto the family had been living on their rents, with little need for professional work on John's part unless it pleased him. Slight repairs, however, would entail saving; and serious ones might keep them in London for years, until he had laid up sufficient money to defray them.

"'Tis all in the day's work," he said lightly, to cheer his wife. "I must have a factor to see unto the place, and for that Simon Pendexter shall serve, if he affright not the poor tenants with his long words; and I myself must needs set to work hard. 'Twill do me good, dear heart; (for he saw Isoult look sad) I have hitherto been lazy, and only have played at working."

So John left London on the first of November, along with a convoy of travellers bound for Exeter; charging Isoult to make acquaintance in his absence with Mrs Rose and Mrs Underhill, with the object of giving her something to do.

"And think not, sweet wife," said he, "that we be all going a-begging, because of what I said touching money. I cast no doubt to make more than enough thereof in my calling to keep all us, and that comfortably; only if there lack much outlay at Bodmin, it shall need time to gather wherewith to pay it. Above all, I would not with my good will have any stint in mine hospitality, specially unto them that be of the household of faith. Leave us not turn Christ our Master out at the doors, at the least unless we need go there ourselves with Him."

A week after John's departure, Isoult put his advice into action, rather because he had given it, than with any real hope of dispelling the intense loneliness she felt. Robin went with her, and Kate, all riding upon Bayard, to West Ham, where they were directed to a small house near the church as the residence of the parson. For in those days parson had not lost its original honourable meaning, whereby the clergyman was spoken of as _par excellence_ "the person" in the parish. The trio alighted, and Isoult rapped at the door. A girl of fifteen answered the knock.

She was tall for her age, but slenderly built. Her hair was of the fairest shade of golden--the pale gold of our old poets--and her eyes were brown. Not a bright, shining brown; this brown was deep and misty, and its light was the light given back from a lake, not the light of a star. In her face there was no rose at all; it was pure and pale as a snowdrop; and her look, Isoult thought, was like the look of an angel.

Her smile was embodied sweetness; her voice soft and low, clear as a silver bell. There are few such voices out of England, but the combination of fair hair with dark eyes is the Venetian style of beauty.

Rare in any land, yet there are occasional instances in each. For such, in Italy, was Dante's Beatrice; such, in Germany, was Louise of s...o...b..rg, the wife of the last Stuart; and such, with ourselves, was "England's Elizabeth."

"Doth Mistress Rose here dwell, and may one have speech of her?"

inquired Isoult of the vision before her.

"Will it please you to take the pain to come within?" answered the sweet voice. "I am Thekla Rose."

Wondering at a name which she had never heard before, Isoult suffered Thekla to lead her into a small, pleasant parlour, where Mrs Rose sat spinning. She was a comely, comfortable-looking woman of middle height, round-faced and rosy, with fair hair like her daughter's, but grey eyes.

Isoult had forgotten her foreign origin till she heard her speak. Her English, however, was fluent and pleasant enough; and she told her visitors that she came from a town in Flanders, close to the German border.

"Where," pursued Mrs Rose, "people are bred up in their common life to speak four tongues; which shall say, Flemish--that is the language of Flanders; and Spanish--the Spaniards do rule over us; and Low Dutch [German],--because we have much to do with the Low Dutch; and the better bred women also French. And I teach my Thekla all these tongues, saving the Flemish; for they speak not Flemish only in Flanders; it should do her not much good. But in all these four tongues have I kinsfolk; for my father was a true-born Fleming, and to him I alway spake Flemish; and my mother was a Spanish woman, and I spake Spanish with her; and my father's brother was wedded unto a dame of Low Dutchland (for whom my daughter is named Thekla, which is a Low Dutch name); and his sister did marry a Frenchman. So you shall see I am akin to all this world!"

Mistress Rose entreated her guests to stay for four-hours, when she hoped Mr Rose would be at home; but Isoult was somewhat afraid of losing her way in the dark, and declined. So she called her maid, and bade her bring cakes and ale, and take Bayard to the shed where their nag was stabled, and give him a mess of oats; begging them at least to stay an hour or two. Then Robin came in, and talked to Thekla and Kate, while Isoult was occupied with Mrs Rose. Mr Rose they did not see; his wife said he was in his parish, visiting the people. So at two o'clock they departed, and reached home just as the dusk fell.

The next day Isoult rode to the Lime Hurst, to see Mrs Underhill. She found her a pleasant motherly woman, full of kindness and cordiality.

As they sat and talked Mr Underhill came in, and joined the conversation; telling Isoult, among other matters, how he had once saved Lord Russell from drowning, the heir of the House of Bedford. The boy had been thrown into the Thames opposite his house, in a bitterly cold winter; and Underhill, springing in after him, rescued him, carried him to his own house, and nursed him back to life. Since that time the Earl of Bedford had been the attached friend of his child's preserver.

[Underhill's Narrative, Harl. Ms. 425, folio 87, b.]

When Isoult returned home, she found a letter from Annis Holland awaiting her. It contained an urgent invitation from the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk to visit her at her little villa at Kingston-on-Thames. Isoult hesitated to accept the invitation, but Dr Thorpe, who thought she looked pale and tired, over-ruled her, chiefly by saying that he was sure John would prefer her going; so she wrote to accept the offer, and started with Robin on the following Monday.

Skirting the City wall, they pa.s.sed through Smithfield and Holborn, and turned away from Saint Giles into the Reading road, the precursor of Piccadilly. The roads were good for the time of year, and they reached Kingston before dark. The next morning Robin returned home, with strict charges to fetch Isoult in a week, and sooner should either of the children fall ill.

After Robin's departure, Isoult waited on the d.u.c.h.ess, whom she found sitting in a cedar chamber, the cas.e.m.e.nt looking on the river and the terrace above it. As the friends sat and talked in came a small white dog, wagging its tail, but with very dirty paws.

"Get out, Doctor Gardiner!" cried her Grace, rising hastily, as the soiled paws endeavoured to jump upon her velvet dress. "I cannot abide such unclean paws. Go get you washed ere you come into my chamber!-- Bertie!"

Mr Bertie came in from the antechamber at her Grace's call; and smiling when he saw what she wanted, he lifted the dog and set it outside.

"Have Dr Gardiner washed, prithee!" said the d.u.c.h.ess. "I love a clean dog, but I cannot abide a foul one."

Isoult could not help laughing when she heard her Grace call her dog by Bishop Gardiner's name.

"He is easier cleansed than his namesake," she resumed, shaking her head. "If my Lord of Winchester win again into power, I count I shall come ill off. As thou wist, Isoult, I have a wit that doth at times outrun my discretion; and when I was last in London, pa.s.sing by the Tower, I did see Master Doctor Gardiner a-looking from, a little window.

And 'Good morrow, my Lord!' quoth I, in more haste than wisdom; ''tis merry with the lambs, now the wolves be kept close!' I count he will not forgive me therefor in sharp haste."

Mr Bertie smiled and shook his head.

"Now, Bertie, leave thine head still!" said her Grace. "I know what thou wouldst say as well as if I had it set in print. I am all indiscreetness, and thou all prudence. He that should bray our souls together in a mortar should make an excellent wit of both."

"Your Grace is too flattering, methinks," said Mr Bertie, still smiling.

"Am I so, verily?" answered she. "Isoult, what thinkest thou? 'Twas not I that gave the dog his name; it was Bertie here (who should be 'shamed of his deed, and is not so at all) and I did but take up the name after him. And this last summer what thinkest yon silly maid Lucrece did? (one of the d.u.c.h.ess's waiting-women, a fict.i.tious person).

Why, she set to work and made a rochet in little, and set it on the dog's back. Heardst thou ever the like? And there was he, a-running about the house with his rochet on him, and all trailing in the mire. I know not whether Annis were wholly free of some knowledge thereof--nor Bertie neither. He said he knew not; I marvel whether he spake truth!"

"That did I, an't like your Grace," replied Mr Bertie, laughing. "I saw not the rochet, neither knew of it, afore yourself."

"Well, I count I must e'en crede thee!" said she.

It struck Isoult that the d.u.c.h.ess and her gentleman usher were uncommonly good friends; rather more so than was usual at that time.

She set it down to their mutual Lutheranism; but she might have found for it another and a more personal reason, which they had not yet thought proper to declare openly. The d.u.c.h.ess and Bertie were privately engaged, but they told no one till their marriage astonished the world.

Isoult reached home on the sixteenth of December; and on Twelfth Day, 1550, John returned from Cornwall. He brought word that the repairs needed were more extensive than any one had supposed from the Pendexter epistles. Part of the house required rebuilding; and he was determined not to begin before he could finish. The result was, that they would have to remain in London, probably, for five or six years more.

Shortly after John's return, a gentleman called to see him. His name was Roger Holland, and he was a merchant tailor in the City, but of gentle birth, and related to the Earl of Derby. Isoult wished to know if he could be any connection of her friend Annis. John thought not: but "thereby hung a tale."

"This gentleman," said John Avery, "was in his young years bound apprentice unto one Master Kempton, of the Blade Boy in Watling Street: and in this time he (being young and unwary) did fall into evil company, which caused him to game with them, and he all unskilfully lost unto them not only his own money, but (every groat) thirty pounds which his master had entrusted unto him to receive for him of them that ought it [owed it]. Moreover, at this time was he a stubborn Papist, in which way he had been bred. So he, coming unto his master's house all despairing, thought to make up his bundle, and escape away out of his master's house, (which was a stern man) and take refuge over seas, in France or Flanders. But afore he did this indiscreet thing, he was avised [he made up his mind] to tell all unto a certain ancient and discreet maid that was servant in this his master's family, by name Elizabeth Lake, which had aforetime showed him kindness. So he gat up betimes of the morrow, and having called unto her, he saith--'Elizabeth, I would I had followed thy gentle persuadings and friendly rebukes; which if I had done, I had never come to this shame and misery which I am now fallen into; for this night have I lost thirty pounds of my master's money, which to pay him, and to make up mine accounts, I am not able. But this much I pray you, desire my mistress, that she would entreat my master to take this bill of my hand that I am this much indebted unto him; and if I be ever able, I will see him paid; desiring him that the matter may pa.s.s with silence, and that none of my kindred nor friends may ever understand this my lewd part; for if it should come unto my father's ears, it would bring his grey hairs over-soon unto his grave.'

"And so would he have departed, like unto Sir Richard at the Lea, in the fair old ballad--

"'Fare wel, frende, and have good daye-- It may noo better be.'

[From "A Litel Geste of Robyn Hode."]

"But Elizabeth was as good unto him as ever Robin Hood unto the Knight of Lancashire; yea, and better, as shall be seen. 'Stay,' saith she, and away went she forth of the chamber. And afore he was well over his surprise thereat, back cometh she, and poured out of a purse before him on the table thirty pound in good red gold. This money she had by the death of a kinsman of hers, but then newly come unto her. Quoth she, 'Roger, here is thus much money; I will let thee have it, and I will keep this bill. But since I do thus much for thee, to help thee, and to save thy honesty, thou shalt promise me to refuse all wild company, all swearing, and unseemly talk; and if ever I know thee to play one twelve-pence at either dice or cards, then will I show this thy bill unto my master. And furthermore, thou shalt promise me to resort every day to the lecture at All Hallows, and the sermon at Poules every Sunday, and to cast away all thy books of Papistry and vain ballads, and get thee the Testament and Book of Service, and read the Scriptures with reverence and fear, calling unto G.o.d still for His grace to direct thee in His truth. And pray unto G.o.d fervently, desiring Him to pardon thy former offences, and not to remember the sins of thy youth; and ever be afraid to break His laws, or offend His majesty. Then shall G.o.d keep thee, and send thee thy heart's desire.'

"So Mr Holland took her money, and kept his obligations unto her. And in the s.p.a.ce of one half-year, so mightily wrought G.o.d's Spirit with him, that of a great Papist he became as fervent a Gospeller; and going into Lancashire unto his father, he took with him divers good books, and there bestowed them, so that his father and others began to taste of the gospel, and to leave their idolatry and superst.i.tion: and at last his father, seeing the good reformation wrought in this his son, gave him fifty pounds to begin the world withal, and sent him again to London, where he now driveth a fair trade."