"I see them in your eyes," she answered. "They are too glad but for one of two things. Is it my father?"

Ah! it was only one. Thekla prepared her mother, in the gentle way she knew, and then running below, was clasped in her father's arms. She took him up-stairs, and no more was seen of any of them; for, antic.i.p.ating that they would prefer to be alone, Isoult sent Esther above with a dish from the supper-table.

It was four years to a day since Mr Rose was taken. In his case, G.o.d had been very gracious to them. The four years were the same for Robin; but how should the end be? And--a thought at once joyous and yet terrible--the end could not be far-off now.

Isoult saw that Mr Rose had aged in those four years, when she had time to study his countenance. If such a thing were possible, she thought him even gentler and kinder than he used to be; yet even more grave and quiet. She asked him what he thought of Thekla, and was slightly comforted to hear him say that he found her better than he dared to hope.

"She hath suffered much, poor child!" said Isoult.

"Poor child!" he echoed. "It was not in her nature to do other."

"And what think you," she asked, "of the chances touching Robin?"

"Mrs Avery," said he, "there are no chances in G.o.d's government. And this is a matter wherein we cannot so much as guess what may have been His will. Yet if you would know what I think most likely in mere human reasoning, I confess I have little hope of his life."

Isoult's heart sank like lead: she felt now how much hope she had nursed, though she thought it so little. But her faith in Mr Rose's forecast was great. And Lady Ashley's words came back to her--"G.o.d knoweth best when His corn is ripe." Ah! how afraid she was that that sheaf was ripe, and had been carried into the garner! Yet could she tell G.o.d that He had judged ill, or that He should have left His fair sheaf to the spoiling, for her pleasure?

When John came home one evening, he told them that he had met with Mr Underhill, who held by the hand his little Guilford. And coming through Cornhill, at the shop-door of a bowyer were bows and quivers of shafts; and Guilford, pulling his father's hand, cried, "Father, Father, do buy me a bow and arrows!"--"Buy thee a bow and arrows, quotha!" answered Mr Underhill, "a shred and snip like thee!"

"What wouldst thou do an' thou hadst a bow and arrows, Guilford?" said John. "Shoot all the Papists," replied the child. "Thou bloodthirsty little ruffian!" cried Mr Underhill, yet laughing. "Nay," said John to him, "blame not the child: he doth but take mightily after a certain father of his, that I know." Whereat (said John) Mr Underhill laughed till the tears ran from his eyes.

Mr Rose preached his first sermon since coming home, in the pulpit of Bow Church, on the 8th of January. It was a glad day to the Gospellers.

His text was, "When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream." He spoke highly of the Queen, saying that "she had suffered for the Gospel, and should know how to be compatient [sympathising] with other that had suffered." Of himself he said little; but of Christ much.

And when he came out of the church, dozens and dozens of hands were held forth to welcome him, till the tears came into his eyes at such a greeting. One old Gospeller woman cried out, "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace!"

"Nay, good Joan," answered Mr Rose. "The reason wherefore the Lord hath kept us alive is, that we have not yet done all our work. At least so I take it. 'Tis somewhat too early to be singing the harvest-home afore all the corn be gathered in. Let us hasten to finish the reaping, and then we may sing."

Then came Mr Underhill with great strides, and held out his hand. (John said aside to his wife, "I would Ned Underhill could learn, without any telling him, that a man's hand, and yet more a woman's, is not made of mill-stones. He hath given me some cruel gripes ere now: 'tis a painful form of love.")

"Welcome home the second time!" cried Mr Underhill, cheerily. "Mrs Rose, your servant. But I say, man! do you not know you are divorced by process of law?"

"Nay," answered Mr Rose, smiling; "I neither do nor will."

"What an ungovernable piece of merchandise are you!" said Mr Underhill, laughing. "But in good sooth, I have not talked with one of our ministers that holdeth not the same view."

"Men parted us," said Marguerite, her voice trembling a little; "but I think G.o.d never did. At any rate, He hath undone it now."

Mr Rose talked with the Averys about his future, and they entreated him to stay with them a little longer. It was expected that the Queen would present the deprived ministers to such benefices as would now be left vacant by the Papists' deprivations; and at least, they urged, it would be well to do nothing rashly. And though they said little to each other, all were waiting to see what would happen on the Coronation Day.

This was fixed for the ensuing Sunday, the Queen having consulted Dr Dee, and heard from him that Sunday would be a fortunate day. All were now preparing for the Coronation. Isoult had cloths ready to hang out, and Kate and Frances were as busy as they could be, sewing green leaves upon white linen, to form the Queen's name--Elizabeth.

Frances said "it was well her Highness had so long a name, for the work should not be by the half so handsome were she called Jane or Anne."

But Thekla's work was by far the most beautiful. She was skilled at making wax-flowers, and had wreathed a garland of white roses, which, set upon a green ground, was to encircle the name with which Kate and Frances were busied [green and white were the Queen's colours]. It was intended to be a magnificent piece of work; and the only grief was that the Queen would never see it, for she was going from the Tower.

Mr Underhill had ordered a new velvet coat, wherein (said his wife) he should be as fine as my Lord High Treasurer. Moreover, Dr Thorpe would needs have a new doublet.

"Why, dear child, my Sunday doublet hath a patch on it," said he; "and if the Queen's Highness' gracious eyes should chance to alight on me, thou wouldst not have them to light on a patch." [Dr Thorpe might have spared his concern; for Queen Elizabeth was much too near-sighted to detect the patch.]

"Maybe they should take little hurt," said John. "But, Doctor, if you have a new doublet, I must needs have a new coat; and then Isoult shall want a new gown; and we shall have Walter clamouring for a gaberdine, and Kate for an hood. Certes, but the Coronation shall be as chargeable unto her Highness' lieges as to herself!"

"Nay, Father, I lack no new hood," said Kate, laughing; "I want only to see the Queen's Grace, and I can do that as well in an old hood as a new."

"Ay, sweet heart," answered he; "but Dr Thorpe would have one thing more, to wit, that the Queen's Grace should see him."

Sir Henry and Lady Ashley came on the 12th to bid their friends farewell, for they were about to leave town early on the morning after the Coronation, and they expected to have little time at liberty. They advised the Averys not to take their stand in Bow Churchyard, as they intended to do, but to beg the loan of some friend's window. Mr Underhill had too many customers to help them; but Annis, whose lodging was in Saint Paul's Churchyard, was very glad to be of service.

In the afternoon they went down early to the waterside, to see the Queen come to the Tower from Westminster Palace. Her Majesty came about two o'clock, royally arrayed, in her state barge, and landed at the privy stairs. Little Frances was in the greatest glee, because she said she was most unfeignedly certain that the Queen looked on her. "And she walketh about the house," said John, "a fair foot the higher in her own account, that she hath been seen of the Queen's Majesty."

The next day came Mr Underhill, bringing news that the Queen had dubbed many Knights of the Bath, and had also created Edward Seymour, eldest son of the late Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hertford.

"But which Edward?" said John, in his quiet way.

"Which?" replied Mr Underhill. "Why, my Lord had but one son of his own name."

"No had?" said John. "I thought he had two."

"What mean you, Jack Avery?" said Mr Underhill.

"I know well what he meaneth," answered Mr Rose. "It was the worst blot on my Lord of Somerset's life. I trust he did repent thereof ere G.o.d called him."

"I was thinking," said John, in a low voice, "of one Katherine Folliott, an humble violet plucked from her mossy bed, and after, flung withering away to reach a peony."

"A black-thorn rather, if you would picture her complexion," suggested Dr Thorpe.

"What, the Duke's first wife?" answered Mr Underhill. "Why, man! the whole world hath forgot her!"

"So did himself," responded John.

"I see," said Mr Underhill. "You think, all, that my Lord did wickedly in divorcing of her, in order to wed the great heir of the Stanhopes.

Well, it may be so: but, my word for it! he had leisure for repentance.

I would not lightly have been my Lady d.u.c.h.ess her lackey, much less her lord."

"Well!" answered John, "I meant not to speak ill of the dead; surely not of one whom I do hope and believe that G.o.d hath pardoned and taken to Himself. I did but signify the very thing I did ask--to wit, which of the Edwards had been create Earl of Herts."

"The son of the Lady Anne Stanhope, of course!" said Mr Underhill.

"It might have been more just and righteous," pursued John, "had it been the son of Katherine Folliott. It may be that his last thought in this world, just ere the axe slid down, was of that woeful wrong he never could right more. Alas for men's hearts in this wicked world! and yet rather, alas for men's consciences! Well, G.o.d forgive us all!"

At two o'clock on the morning of the 14th, forth sallied all, and trudged amongst a moving crush of men and women to Annis' lodging, where she and Don Juan willingly gave them standing-room with themselves at their two windows. John lifted Frances on his shoulder, where, said he, she should have the best sight of all; and Walter was perched upon a high chair in the window. Kate stood below, in front of her father.

Her Majesty sat in a rich chariot, covered with crimson velvet, splendidly attired, and a canopy was borne over her head by knights.

Many pageants and gifts were offered to her; but one must not be left untold, which is that a copy of the English Bible was given to her at the Little Conduit in Cheapside, and she, receiving it let down into her chariot by a silken string, in both hands, kissed it, clasped it to her bosom, and thanked the City for it, "the which," said she, "I do esteem above all other, and will diligently read therein." Mr George Ferris and Mr Underhill were in the procession. [Strange to say, hardly any details are preserved of the procession and coronation of Elizabeth.]

The Bishop of Carlisle [Dr Oglethorpe] had at last been prevailed upon to crown the Queen, but that so lately, that vestments were not ready for him, and they had to be borrowed of Bishop Bonner. He was the only Bishop to meet her Majesty at Westminster Abbey. The day following was the Coronation Day of Queen Elizabeth.

First thing in the morning, Barbara and Ursula hung out the garland and name that Kate and Thekla had made, which had been taken in over-night, after the Queen's procession. Then the party breakfasted; and, there being no service anywhere, Mr Rose read the Common Prayer to the a.s.sembled household, and gave them a short discourse on a pa.s.sage from the Psalms,--"With joy and gladness shall they be brought, and shall enter into the King's Palace." He could hardly be said to preach, for he only sat on a chair in the midst of the group. He spoke of the Coronation Day; bidding them not to forget "that other fairer day of the more glorious Coronation, when Christ shall see of the travail of His soul, and shall be satisfied: when all His people shall be gathered together, a full and perfected Church, the Lamb's Bride: when He shall take unto Him His great power and reign."

The afternoon was spent quietly, no one looking in upon them; and when the dark began to fall, and the candles were lighted, Mr Rose read the Evening Prayers, and spoke again, this time on a text in the Revelation,--"They are without fault before the Throne of G.o.d."

"Because," said he, "betwixt them and that Throne standeth Christ to present [represent] them before G.o.d; and while all faults be in them, in Him is no fault; and He covereth them with the fair white robe of His own righteousness, that G.o.d's justice cannot see them apart from it and Him that gave and wrought it."