The Gold that GlittersThe Mistakes of Jenny Lavender

By Emily Sarah Holt________________________________________________________________________The action in this little book comes just at the point in BritishHistory where Charles the First had been executed, and his son and heirwas on the run. The famous incident where Colonel Lane hides the youngKing up in an oak tree was recently past. 

Young Jenny is a sixteen-year-old living on a farm, but she has reachedthe age where so many teenagers have disagreements with their parents, and she decides to find a way to leave home. So she takes a job as alady's maid in Colonel Lane's household, which of course is a bit of asnub to her as she is treated in the servants' hierarchy as so low sheis not even allowed to speak at meals. Eventually she finds that she islearning to handle these conventions, and is even quite enjoying herwork. But one day the Lane family decide they must leave Britain, andgo to France, so Jenny is to get her notice. The book is not long, andthere is not room in it for many developments, but she does eventuallygo back home, where everyone is very glad to have her back, not leasther boy-friend. NH________________________________________________________________________

THE GOLD THAT GLITTERSTHE MISTAKES OF JENNY LAVENDER

BY EMILY SARAH HOLT

CHAPTER ONE. 

JENNY PREPARES TO GO A-JOURNEYING. 

"Jenny, my dear maid, thou wilt never fetch white meal out of a sack ofsea-coal. " Jenny tossed her head. It would have been a nice littlebrown head, if it had not been quite so fond of tossing itself. ButJenny was just sixteen, and laboured under a delusion which besets youngfolks of that age--namely, that half the brains in the world had gotinto her head, and very few had been left in her grandmother's. 

"I don't know what you mean, Grandmother, " said Jenny, as anaccompaniment to that toss. 

"O Jenny, Jenny! what a shocking thing of you to say, when you knew whatyour grandmother meant as well as you knew your name was Jane Lavender!"

"I rather think thou dost, my lass, " said old Mrs Lavender quietly. 

"Well, I suppose you mean to run down Mr Featherstone, " said Jenny, pouting. "You're always running him down. And there isn't a bit of usein it--not with me. I like him, and I always shall. He's such agentleman, and always so soft-spoken. But I believe you like thatclod-hopper Tom Fenton, ever so much better. I can't abide him. "

"There's a deal more of the feather than the stone about RobinFeatherstone, lass. If he be a stone, he's a rolling one. Hasn't hebeen in three places since he came here?"

"Yes, because they didn't use him right in none of 'em. Wanted him todo things out of his place, and such like. Why, at Hampstead Hall, theyset him to chop wood. "

"Well, why not?" asked Mrs Lavender, knitting away. 

"Because it wasn't his place, " answered Jenny, indignantly. "It madehis hands all rough, and he's that like a gentleman he couldn't standit. "

"Tom Fenton would have done it, I shouldn't wonder. "

"As if it would have mattered to Tom Fenton, with his great red hands!They couldn't be no rougher than they are, if he chopped wood whileChristmas. Besides, it's his trade--wood-chopping is. MrFeatherstone's some'at better nor a carpenter. "

"They're honest hands, if they are red, Jenny. "

"And he's a cast in his eyes. "

"Scarcely. Anyhow, he's none in his heart. "

"And his nose turns up!"

"Not as much as thine, Jenny. "

"Mine!" cried Jenny, in angry amazement, "Grandmother, what will you saynext? My nose is as straight as--as the church tower. "

"Maybe it is, in general, my lass. But just now thou art turning it upat poor Tom. "

"`Poor Tom, ' indeed!" said Jenny, in a disgusted tone. "He'd best notcome after me, or I'll `poor Tom' him. I want none of him, I can tellyou. "

"Well, Jenny, don't lose thy temper over Tom, or Robin either. Thou'rtlike the most of maids--they'll never heed the experience of old folks. If thou wilt not be `ruled by the rudder, thou must be ruled by therock. ' `All is not gold that glitters, ' and I'm afeard thou shalt findit so, poor soul! But I can't put wisdom into thee; I can only pray theLord to give it thee. Be thy bags packed up?"

"Ay, " said Jenny, rather sulkily. 

"And all ready to set forth?"

"There's just a few little things to see to yet. "

"Best go and see to them, then. "

Mrs Lavender knitted quietly on, and Jenny shut the door with a littlemore of a slam than it quite needed, and ran up to her own room, whereshe slept with her elder sister. 

"Jenny, thy bags are not locked, " said her sister, as she came in. 

"Oh, let be, Kate, do! Grandmother's been at me with a whole heap ofher old saws, till I'm worn out. I wish nobody had ever spoke one of'em. "

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, she's at me about Robin Featherstone: wants me to give up keepingcompany with him, and all that. Tom Fenton's her pattern man, and apretty pattern he is. I wouldn't look at him if there wasn't anotherman in Staffordshire. Robin's a gentleman, and Tom's a clown. "

"I don't see how you are to give up Robin, when you are going into thevery house where he lives. "

"Of course not. 'Tis all rubbish! I wish old women would hold theirtongues. I'm not going to Bentley Hall to sit mewed up in my mistress'chamber, turning up the whites of my eyes, and singing Psalms through mynose. I mean to lead a jolly life there, I can tell you, for allGrandmother. It really is too bad of old folks, that can't knock aboutand enjoy their lives, to pen up young maids like so many sheep. Ishall never be young but once, and I want some pleasure in my life. "

"All right, " said Kate lightly. "I scarce think they turn up the whitesof their eyes at Bentley Hall. Have your fling, Jenny--only don't go_too_ far, look you. "

"I can take care of myself, thank you, " returned Jenny scornfully. "Lock that striped bag for me, Kate, there's a darling; there's fathercalling downstairs. "

And Jenny ran off, to cry softly in a high treble to Kate, a minuteafterwards--"Supper!"

Supper was spread in the large kitchen of the farmhouse. Jenny's fatherwas a tenant farmer, his landlord being Colonel Lane, of Bentley Hall, and it was to be maid (or, as they said then, "lady's woman") to theColonel's sister, that Jenny was going to the Hall. Mrs Jane was muchyounger than her brother, being only six years older than Jenny herself. In the present day she would be called Miss Jane, but in 1651 onlylittle girls were termed _Miss_. Jenny had always been rather a pet, both with Mrs Lane and her daughter; for she was a bright child, wholearned easily, and could repeat the Creed and the Ten Commandments asglibly as possible when she was only six years old. Unhappily, lessonswere apt to run out of Jenny's head as fast as they ran in, except whenfrequently demanded; but the Creed and the Commandments had to staythere, for every Saturday night she was called on to repeat them to herGrandmother, and every Sunday afternoon she had to say them at thecatechising in church. In Jenny's head, therefore, they remained; butdown to Jenny's heart they never penetrated. 

It was only now that Mrs Jane was setting up a maid for herself. Hitherto she had been served by her mother's woman; but now she wasgoing on a visit to some relatives near Bristol, and it was thoughtproper that she should have a woman of her own. And when the questionwas asked where the maid should be sought, Mrs Jane had said atonce--"Oh, let me have little Jenny Lavender!"

Farmer Lavender was not quite so ready to let Jenny go as Mrs Jane wasto ask it. Bristol seemed to him a long way off, and, being a town, most likely a wicked place. Those were days in which people made theirwills before they took a journey of a hundred miles; and no wonder, whenthe roads were so bad that men had frequently to be hired to walk besidea gentleman's carriage, and give it a push to either side, when itshowed an inclination to topple over; or oxen sometimes were fetched, topull the coach out of a deep quagmire of mud, from which only one halfof it was visible. So Farmer Lavender shook his head, and said "hedidn't know, no, he didn't, whether he'd let his little maid go. " ButMrs Jane was determined--and so was Jenny; and between them theyconquered the farmer, though his old mother was on the prudent side. This was Friday, and Mrs Jane was to leave home on Tuesday; and onSaturday afternoon, Robert Featherstone, Colonel Lane's valet, whomJenny thought such a gentleman, was to come for her and her luggage. 

If a gentleman be a man who never does any useful thing that he canhelp, then Mr Robin Featherstone was a perfect gentleman--much more sothan his master, who was ready to put his hand to any work that wanteddoing. Mr Featherstone thought far more of his elegant white handsthan the Colonel did of his, and oiled his chestnut locks at least threetimes as often. He liked the Colonel's service, because he had verylittle to do, and there were plenty of people in the house as idle andfeather-pated as himself. Colonel Lane was in Robin's eyes a goodmaster, though old Mrs Lavender thought him a bad one. That is, heallowed his servants to neglect their work with very little censure, andtook no notice of their employments during their leisure hours. AndSatan was not a bit less busy in 1651 than he is in 1895, in findingmischief for idle hands to do. Leisure time is to a man what he choosesto make it--either a great blessing or a great curse. And just then, for those who chose the last, the disturbed and unsettled state of thecountry offered particular opportunities. 

The war between the King and the Parliament was just over. Charles theFirst had been beheaded at Whitehall nearly two years before; and thoughhis son, Charles the Second, was still in England, fighting to recoverhis father's kingdom, it was pretty plainly to be seen that his strugglewas a hopeless one. The great battle of Worcester, which ended the longconflict, had been fought about three weeks before, and the young Kinghad only just escaped with his life, through the bravery of his gallanttroops, who made a desperate stand in the street, keeping the victors atbay while their commander fled to a place of concealment. 

The Cavaliers, as Charles's troops were called, had few virtues beyondtheir loyalty and courage. After their dispersion at Worcester, theyspread over the country in small parties, begging, stealing, orcommitting open ravages. Many of the Parliamentary troops--not all--were grave, sensible, God-fearing men, who were only concerned to dowhat they believed was right and righteous. Much fewer of the Cavaliershad any such aim, beyond their devotion to the monarchy, and theirenthusiastic determination to uphold it. They were mostly gay, rollicking fellows, with little principle, and less steadfastness, whosquandered their money on folly, if nothing worse; and then helpedthemselves to other people's goods without any uneasiness of conscience. 

Colonel Lane was a Cavalier, and devoted to the King, and most of histenants were Cavaliers also. A few were Roundheads--staunch adherentsof the Parliament; and a few more had no very strong convictions oneither side, and while they chiefly preferred the monarchy, would havebeen content with any settlement which allowed them to live honest andpeaceable lives. Old Mrs Lavender belonged to this last class. Ifasked which side she was on, she would have said, "For the King"; but inher heart she had no enmity to either. Her son was a warmer politician;Jenny, being sixteen, was a much warmer still, and as RobinFeatherstone, her hero, was a Cavalier, so of course was she. 

We have given the worthy farmer and his family a good while to sit downto supper, which that night included a kettle of furmety, a mermaid pie, and a taffaty tart. What were they? A very reasonable question, especially as to the mermaid pie, since mermaids are rather scarcearticles in the market. Well, a mermaid pie was made of pork and eels, and was terribly rich and indigestible; a taffaty tart was an apple-pie, seasoned with lemon-peel and fennel-seed; and the receipt for furmety--avery famous and favourite dish with our forefathers--I give as it standsin a curious little book, entitled, _The Compleat Cook_, printed in1683. 

"Take a quart of cream, a quarter of a pound of French barley, thewhitest you can get, and boyl it very tender in three or four severalwaters, and let it be cold; then put both together. Put into it a bladeof mace, a nutmeg cut in quarters, a race of ginger cut in four or fivepieces, and so let it boyl a good while, still stirring, and season itwith sugar to your taste; then take the yolks of four eggs, and beatthem with a little cream, and stir them into it, and so let it boyl alittle after the eggs are in: then have ready blanched and beaten twentyalmonds (kept from oyling), with a little rosewater; then take a boulterstrainer, and rub your almonds with a little of your furmety through thestrainer, but set on the fire no more: and stir in a little salt, and alittle sliced nutmeg, pickt out of the great pieces of it, and put it ina dish, and serve it. "

The farmhouse family consisted only of Farmer Lavender, his mother, andhis two daughters, Kate and Jenny. But fifteen people sat down tosupper: for the whole household, including the farmer's men down to thelittle lad who scared the crows, all ate together in the big kitchen. Mrs Lavender sat at the head of the table, the farmer at the other end, with Jenny on his right hand: for there was in the father's heart a verywarm place for his motherless Jenny. 

"All ready to set forth, my lass?" he said gently--perhaps a littlesadly. "Yes, Father, all ready. "

"Art thou glad to go, child?"

"I'd like well to see the world, Father. "

"Well, well! I mind the time when I'd ha' been pleased enough to havethy chance, my lass. Be a good girl, and forget not the good ways thygrandmother has learned thee, and then I cast no doubt thou'lt do well. "

Jenny assented with apparent meekness, inwardly purposing to forget themas fast as she could. She ran into the garden when supper was over, togather a nosegay, if possible, of the few flowers left at that time ofyear. She was just tucking a bit of southernwood into her bodice, whena voice on the other side of the hedge said softly, --

"Jenny. "

"Well, what do you want, Tom Fenton?" responded Jenny, in a tone whichwas not calculated to make her visitor feel particularly welcome. 

It was one of Jenny's standing grievances against Tom, that he wouldcall her by her name. Robin Featherstone called her plain "Mrs Jenny, "which pleased her vanity much better. 

"You're really going to-morrow, Jenny?"

"Of course I am, " said Jenny. 

"You'll forget me, like as not, " said Tom, earnestly hoping to becontradicted. 

"Of course I shall, " replied Jenny flippantly. 

"I wish you wouldn't, Jenny, " said Tom, with a meek humility that shouldhave disarmed Jenny's resentment, but only increased it. Like manyother foolish people, Jenny was apt to mistake pert speeches forcleverness, and gentleness for want of manly spirit. "I wish youwouldn't, Jenny. There isn't a soul as thinks as much of you as I do, not in all the country-side. Nor there isn't one as 'll miss you likeme. "

"I just wish you'd take up with somebody else, and give over plaguingme, " said Jenny mercilessly. "There's Ruth Merston, and Dolly Campion, and Abigail--"

"I don't want ne'er a one on 'em, " answered Tom, in a rather hurt tone. "I've never thought, not a minute, o' nobody but you, Jenny, not sincewe was a little lad and lass together. I've always loved you, Jenny. Haven't you ne'er a kind word for me afore we part? May be a long dayere we shall meet again. "

"I'm sure I hope it will, " said Jenny, half vexed at Tom's pertinacity, and half amusing herself, for she thought it good fun to tease him. 

"Don't you care the least bit for me, Jenny, dear?"

"No, I don't. Why should I?"

"But you used, Jenny, once. Didn't you, now? That day I brought youthem blue ribbons you liked so well, you said--don't you mind what yousaid, dear heart?"

"I said a deal o' nonsense, I shouldn't wonder. Don't be a goose, Tom!You can't think to bind a girl to what she says when you give her blueribbons. "

"I'd be bound to what I said, ribbons or no ribbons, " said Tom firmly. "But I see how it is--it's that scented idiot, Featherstone, has comebetwixt you and me. O Jenny, my dear love, don't you listen to him!He'll not be bound to a word he says the minute it's not comfortable tokeep it. He'll just win your heart, Jenny, and then throw you o' oneside like a withered flower, as soon as ever he sees a fresh one assuits him better. My dear maid--"

"I'm sure I'm mighty obliged to you, Mr Fenton!" said Jenny, reallyangry now. "It's right handsome of you to liken me to a witheredflower. Mr Featherstone's a gentleman in a many of his ways, andthat's more nor you are, and I wish you good evening. "

"Jenny, my dear, don't 'ee, now--"

But Jenny was gone. 

Tom turned sorrowfully away. Before he had taken two steps, he wasarrested by a kindly voice. 

"You made a mistake, there, Tom, " it said. "But don't you lose heart;it isn't too bad to be got over. "

Tom stopped at once, and went back to the hedge, whence that kindlyvoice had spoken. 

"Is that you, Kate?" he said. 

"Ay, " answered the voice of Jenny's sister. Kate was not a very wisegirl, but she was less flighty and foolish than Jenny; and she had akind heart, which made her always wish to help anyone in trouble. "Tom, don't be in a taking; but you've made a mistake, as I said. You knownot how to handle such a maid as Jenny. "

"What should I have said, Kate? I'm fair beat out of heart, and you'llmake me out of charity with myself if you tell me 'tis my own fault. "

"Oh, not so ill as that, Tom! But next time she bids you go and take upwith somebody else, just tell her you mean to do so, and `there are asgood fish in the sea as ever came out of it. ' That's the way to tacklethe likes of her; not to look struck into the dumps, and fetch sighslike a windmill. "

"But I don't mean it, Kate, " said Tom, looking puzzled. 

"Oh, be not so peevish, Tom! Can't you _say_ so?"

"No, " answered Tom, with sudden gravity; "I can't, truly. I've alwaylooked for Jenny to be my wife one day, ever since I was as high asthose palings; but I'll not win her by untruth. There'd be no blessingfrom the Lord on that sort of work. I can't, Kate Lavender. "

"Well, I never did hear the like!" exclaimed Kate. "You can't think somuch of Jenny as I reckoned you did, if you stick at nought in thatway. "

"I think more of Jenny than of anyone else in the world, Kate, and youknow it, " said Tom, with a dignity which Kate could not help feeling. "But I think more yet of Him that's above the world. No, no! If ever Iwin Jenny--and God grant I may I--I'll win her righteously, not lyingly. I thank you for your good meaning, all the same. "

"Good even to you both!" said an old man's voice; and they turned to seethe speaker coming down the lane. He was a venerable-looking man, cladin a long brown coat, girt to him by a band of rough leather; his long, silvery hair fell over his shoulders, and under his arm was a large, clasped book, in a leather cover which had seen much service. 

"Uncle Anthony!" cried Tom. "I knew not you were back. Are you on yourway up the hill? Here, prithee, leave me carry your book. Good even, Kate, and I thank you!"

"Good even!" said Kate, with a nod to both; and Tom tucked the big bookunder his own arm, and went forward with the traveller. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

HOW JENNY FARED THE FIRST EVENING. 

"Well, for sure, Aunt Persis will be some fain to see you!" said TomFenton, as he and his uncle, old Anthony, went forward up the hill. "But whence come you, now, Uncle? Are you very weary? Eh, but I'm gladyou've won home safe!"

"God bless thee, my lad! Ay, He's brought me home safe. A bitfootsore, to be sure, and glad enough of rest: but gladder to besuffered to do His will, and minister to His suffering servants. Whencecome I? Well, from Kidderminster, to-day; but--"

"Dear heart! but you never footed it all the way from Kidderminster?"

"No, no, dear lad. A good man gave me a lift for a matter o' eightmiles or more. But, dear me! I mind the time I could ha' run nigh on amile in five minutes, and ha' trudged my forty mile a day, nor scarcefelt it. I reckon, Tom, lad, thou'rt not so lissome as I was at thyyears. Well, to be sure! 'Tis all right; I'm only a good way nearerHome. "

They walked on together for a few minutes in silence. Tom's thoughtshad gone back from the momentary pleasure of welcoming his uncle, towhom he was greatly attached, to his sore disappointment about Jenny. 

"What is it, Tom?" said the old man quietly. 

"Oh, only a bit of trouble, Uncle. Nought I need cumber you with. "

"Jenny Lavender?" was the next suggestion. 

"Ay. I thought not you knew how I'd set my heart on her, ever since shewas that high, " said Tom, indicating a length of about a yard. "I'venever thought o' none but her all my life. But she's that taken up witha sorry popinjay of a fellow, she'll not hear me now. I'd alwaysthought Jenny'd be my wife. "

Poor Tom's voice was very doleful, for his heart was sore. 

"Thou'd alway thought so, " said the quiet voice. "But what if the Lordthinks otherway, Tom?"

Tom came to a sudden stop. 

"Uncle Anthony! Eh, but you don't--" and Tom's words went no further. 

"My lad, thou'rt but a babe in Christ. 'Tisn't so many months sincethou first set foot in the narrow way. Dost thou think He means JennyLavender for thee, and that thy feet should run faster in the way of Hiscommandments for having her running alongside thee? Art thou wellassured she wouldn't run the other way?"

Old Anthony had spoken the truth. Tom was but a very young Christian, of some six months' standing. He had never dreamed of any antagonismarising between his love to Christ and his love to Jenny Lavender. Stay--had he not? What was that faint something, without a name--a sortof vague uneasiness, which had seemed to creep over him whenever he hadseen her during those months--a sense of incongruity between her lightprattle and his own inmost thoughts and holiest feelings? It was soslight that as yet he had never faced it. He recognised now it wasbecause his heart had refused to face it. And conscience told him, speaking loudly this time, that he must hold back no longer. 

"Uncle Anthony, " he said, in a troubled voice, "I'm sore afeard I've notset the Lord afore me in that matter. I never saw it so afore. But nowyou've set me on it, I can't deny that we shouldn't pull same way. Butwhat then? Must I give her up? Mayn't I pray the Lord to touch herheart, and give her to me, any longer?"

The old man looked into the sorrowful eyes of the young man, whom heloved as dearly as if he had been his own son. 

"Dear lad, " he said, "pray the Lord to bring her to Himself. That'ssafe to be His will, for He willeth not the death of a sinner. But asto giving her to thee, if I were thou, Tom, I'd leave that with Him. Meantime, thy way's plain. `Be ye not unequally yoked together. ' Thecommand's clear as daylight. Never get a clog to thy soul. Thou canstlive without Jenny Lavender; but couldst thou live without JesusChrist?"

Tom shook his head, without speaking. 

"To tell truth, Tom, I'm not sorry she's going away. Maybe the Lord'ssending her hence, either to open her eyes and send her back weary andcloyed with the world she's going into so gaily now, or else to openthine, and show thee plain, stripped of outside glitter, the real thingshe is, that thou mayest see what a sorry wife she would make to aChristian man. No, I'm not sorry. And unless I mistake greatly, Tom, the time's coming when thou shalt not be sorry neither. In themeantime, `tarry thou the Lord's leisure. ' If He be the chief object ofthy desire, thy desire is safe to be fulfilled. `This is the will ofGod, even our sanctification. '"

They turned to the left at the top of the hill, and went a few yardsalong the lane, to a little cottage embowered in ivy, which wasAnthony's home. 

"Wilt thou come in, Tom, lad?"

"No, Uncle, I thank you. You've opened my eyes, but it's made 'em smarta bit too much to face the light as yet. I'll take a sharp trudge overthe moor, and battle it out with myself. "

"Take the Lord with thee, lad. Satan'll have thee down if thou doesn't. He's strong and full o' wiles, and if he can't conquer thee in hisblack robe, he'll put on a white one. There's no harm in thy saying tothe Lord, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love Jenny Lavender'; but take carethat it does not come before, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love _Thee_. 'Maybe He's putting the same question to thee to-night, that He did toPeter at the lake-side. "

"Ay, ay, Uncle. I'll not forget. God bless thee!"

Tom wrung old Anthony's hand, and turned away. 

One moment the old man paused before he went in. 

"Lord, Thou lovest the lad better than I do, " he said, half aloud. "DoThy best for him!"

Then he lifted the latch, and met a warm welcome from his wife Persis. 

"Mrs Jenny, your servant!" said the smooth tones of Robin Featherstoneat the farmhouse door, about twenty hours later. "The horse awaits yourgood pleasure, and will only be less proud to bear you than I shall toride before you. "

Jenny's silly little heart fluttered at the absurd compliment. 

"Farewell, Grandmother, " she said, going up to the old lady. "Pray, your blessing. "

Old Mrs Lavender laid her trembling hand on the girl's head. 

"May God bless thee, my maid, and make thee a blessing! I have but oneword for thee at the parting, and if thou wilt take it as thy motto forlife, thou mayest do well. `Look to the end. ' Try the ground aforethou settest down thy foot. `Many a cloudy morrow turneth out a fairday, ' and `'tis ill to get in the hundred and lose in the shire. ' Solook to the end, Jenny, and be wise in time. `All that glittereth isnot gold, ' and all gold does not glitter, specially when folk's eyes beshut. We say down in my country, `There's a hill against a stack allCraven through, ' and thou'lt find it so. God keep thee!"

Jenny's father gave her a warm embrace and a hearty blessing, and hishand went to his eyes as he turned to Robin Featherstone. 

"Fare you well, Robin, " said he, "and have a care of my girl. "

The elegant Mr Featherstone laid his hand upon that portion of hiswaistcoat which was supposed to cover his heart. 

"Mr Lavender, it will be the pride of my heart to serve Mrs Jenny, though it cost my life. "

He sprang on the brown horse, and Jenny, helped by her father, mountedthe pillion behind him. Women very seldom rode alone at that day. 

Kate ran after them, as they started, with an old shoe in her hand, which she delivered with such good (or bad) effect that it hit the horseon the ear, and made it shy. Happily, it was a sedate old quadruped, not given to giddy ways, and quickly recovered itself. 

"Good luck!" cried Kate, as they rode away. 

A second horse followed, ridden by one of Colonel Lane's stable-boys, carrying Jenny's two bags. 

It was not a mile from the farm to Bentley Hall, and they were soon inthe stable-yard, where Jenny alighted, and was taken by Featherstoneinto the servants' hall, where with another complimentary flourish heintroduced her to the rest of the household. 

"My lords and ladies, I have the honour to present to you the Lady JaneLavender. "

"Now you just get out of my way, with your lords and ladies, " said thecook, pushing by them. "Good even, Jenny. We've seen Jenny Lavenderafore, every man jack of us. "

Mr Featherstone got out of the way without much delay, for the cook hada gridiron in his hand, and he had been known before now to boxsomebody's ears with that instrument. 

He recovered his dignity as soon as he could, and suggested that Jennyshould go up to the chamber of her new mistress. 

"Maybe Mrs Millicent should be pleased to take her, " he said, making alow bow to Mrs Lane's maid. 

"She knows her way upstairs as well as I do, " answered Millicentbluntly. "Have done with your airs, Robin! and prithee don't put Jennyup to 'em. 

"Now, Jenny, you run up and wait for Mrs Jane; she'll be there in aminute, most like. You can hang your hood and cloak behind the door. "

There were no bonnets in those days, nor shawls; women wore hoods ortall hats on their heads when they went out, and cloaks in cold weather;when it was warm they merely tied on a muslin or linen tippet, fasteningit with a bow of ribbon at the throat. 

The gown sleeves then came down mostly to the wrist; but sometimes onlyto the elbows, where they were finished with a little frill. How theneck was covered, in the house, depended on its owner's notions. If shewere gay and fashionable, it was not covered at all. But if she weresensible and quiet, she generally wore the same kind of muslin tippetthat was used on warm days out of doors. Old women sometimes wore theclose frill round the neck, which had been used in Queen Elizabeth'stime; but this was quite gone out of fashion for younger ones. 

Mrs Jane's room was empty. Jenny knew her way to it well enough, forshe had often been there before; but her heart beat high when she sawsomething in the corner that had never been there before--a neat, littlelow bed, covered with a quilt of coarse, padded blue silk. That was forJenny, as Jenny knew. The room was long, low, and somewhat narrow. Four windows, so close together as to have the effect of one, ran alongthe whole length of one end, filled with small diamond-shaped panes ofgreenish glass. 

In the midst of these stood a toilet-table, whereon were a number ofpots and boxes, the uses of which were as yet unknown to the new maid. The large bed was hung with flowered cherry-coloured satin; an inlaidchair, filled with cushions, stood before the fireplace, and a smallTurkey carpet lay in front of it. 

Jenny stood contemplating everything, with a sense of great elation tothink that her place henceforward would be in the midst of all thiscomfort and grandeur. Suddenly a quick step ran up the polishedstaircase, the door opened, and a young lady made her made herappearance. 

Her description will serve for the ladies of that day in general. 

Her skirt came just down to the foot, and was moderately full; it wasmade of green satin. Over this was the actual gown, of tawny oryellowish-brown silk, trimmed with silver lace. The skirt was open infront, and was bunched up all round so as barely to reach the knees. The bodice, which was tight to the figure, was laced up in front withsilver; it was cut low on the neck, and over it was a tippet of clearmuslin, tied with green ribbon to match the skirt. The sleeves wereslightly fulled, and were finished by very deep cuffs of similar muslin, midway between the wrist and the elbow. The young lady's hair wasdressed in a small knob behind; it came a little over the forehead atthe front in a point, and flowed down at the sides in slender ringlets. 

"Oh, Jenny, are you come? That is right, " said she. 

"Yes, madam, to serve you, " answered Jenny, dropping a courtesy. 

"Very good. Here, pick up these pins, and put them into that box. Youmust learn to dress me, and dress my hair. Dear me, you have all tolearn! Well, never mind; the best woman living had to begin once. "

"Yes, madam, " said smiling Jenny. 

Mrs Jane sat down before the toilet-table, and with more rapidity thanJenny could well follow, showed her the articles upon it, and the usesfor which they were designed. 

"Here is pearl powder; that is for my forehead. This is rouge, for mycheeks and lips. Now, mind what you do with them! Don't go and put thewhite powder on my cheeks, and the red upon my nose! This is pomatumfor my hair; and this empty box holds my love-locks (you'll have tolearn how to put those in, Jenny); in this bottle is a wash for my face. I don't dye my hair, nor use oils for my hands--one must draw the linesomewhere. But the other matters you must learn to apply. "

Jenny listened in silent amazement. She had never realised till thatmoment what an artificial flower her young mistress was. 

Her own cosmetics were soap and water; and she was divided betweendisgust and admiration at the number of Mrs Jane's beautifiers. PoorJenny had no idea that Mrs Jane used a very moderate amount of them, ascontrasted with most fashionable ladies of her day. 

"I must have a word with you, Jenny, as to your manners, " said MrsJane, more gravely. "I can't do to have you falling in love withanybody. It would be very inconvenient, and, in fact, there's nobodyhere for you. Remember _now_, you are above Featherstone and all themen-servants; and you must not set your cap at the chaplain, becausehe's Mrs Millicent's property. "

Above that elegant gentleman, Mr Featherstone! Jenny felt as if shetrod on perfumed air. She was not in the least surprised to be toldthat she was not to marry the chaplain; the family chaplain, of whomthere was one in every family of any pretension, was considered a poormean creature, whose natural wife was the lady's maid; and Jenny quiteunderstood that Mrs Millicent took precedence of her. 

"You take your seat at table, Jenny, next below Mrs Millicent. Ofcourse you know you are not to speak there? If any one should have suchill-manners as to address you, you must answer quite respectfully, butas short as possible. Well, now to tell you your duties. You riseevery morning at five of the clock; dress quietly, and when you areready, wake me, if I have not woke sooner. Then you dress me, go withme to prayers in the chapel, then to breakfast in the hall; in themorning (when I am at home) you follow me about in my duties in thekitchen, stillroom, and dairy; you help me to see to the poultry, get upmy muslins and laces, and mend my clothes. In the afternoon you go outvisiting with me, work tapestry, embroider, or spin. In the evening, ifthere be music or dancing, you can join; if not, you keep to yourneedle. "

Jenny courtesied, and meekly "hoped she should do her duty. " Someportions of this duty, now explained to her, were sufficiently to hertaste; others sounded very uninteresting. These were the usual servicesexpected from a lady's maid two hundred years ago. 

"Very well, " said Mrs Jane, looking round. "I think that is all at thepresent. If I think of any other matter, I will mention it. Now ringthat little bell on the side-table, and Millicent shall give you yourfirst lesson in dressing my hair. "

Jenny found that first lesson a trial. Millicent was quick and precise;she gave her instructions almost sharply, and made little allowance forJenny's ignorance and inaptitude. 

She seemed to expect her to know what to do without being told, or atthe utmost to need only once telling. Jenny found it necessary to haveall her wits about her, and began to think that her new situation wasnot quite so perfect a Paradise as she had supposed it. 

From this exercise they went down to supper in the hall, where Jennyfound herself placed at the higher table between Millicent and thesteward--a stiff, silent, elderly man, who never said a word to her allsupper-time. Robin Featherstone sat at the lower table; for the twotables made the only distinction between the family and the household, who all ate together in the hall. 

The next discovery was that she must never ask for a second helping, butmust take what was given her and be content. Accustomed to the freedomand plenty of the farmhouse kitchen, Jenny sadly felt the constraint ofher new life. She was obliged to fall back for her consolation on thepleasure of her elevation above all her old associates. It was ratherpoor fare. 

When, after assisting Mrs Jane to undress, with sundry snubbings fromMillicent, and some not ill-natured laughter from her young mistress atJenny's blunders, she was at last free to lie down to rest herself, shewas conscious of a little doubt, whether the appellation of "MrsJenny, " the higher place at the table, and the distinction of beingnobody in the drawing-room, were quite as agreeable as plenty to eat anddrink, and liberty to run into the garden, dance and sing whenever shechose to do so. 

The Sunday which followed was spent as the Holy Day was wont to be spentby Cavalier families who were respectable and not riotous. 

The Lanes were members of the Church of England, but the Church had beenabolished, so far as it lay in the power of those in authority at thattime. Many of the clergy were turned out of their livings--it cannot bedenied that some of them had deserved it--and the Book of Common Prayerwas stringently suppressed. No man dared to use it now, exceptsecretly. Those solemn and beautiful prayers, offered up by manygenerations, and endeared to their children as only childhood's memoriescan endear, might not be uttered, save in fear and trembling, in thedead of night, or in hushed whispers in the day-time. 

Early in the morning, before the world was astir, a few of ColonelLane's family met the chaplain in the private chapel, and there in lowvoices the morning prayers were read, and the responses breathed. Therewas no singing nor chanting; that would have been too much to dare. Themen who had themselves suffered so much for holding secret conventicles, and preferring one style of prayer to another, now drove theirfellow-countrymen into the very same acts, and imposed on them the samesufferings. 

This secret service over, the family met at breakfast, after which theydrove in the great family coach to Darlaston Church. The present Vicar, if he may so be termed, was an independent minister. These ministers, who alone were now permitted to minister, were of three kinds. 

Some were true Christians--often very ripely spiritual ones--whopreached Christ, and let politics alone. Another class were virulentcontroversialists, who preached politics, and too often let Christianityalone. And a third consisted of those concealed Jesuits whom Rome hadsent over for the purpose of stirring up dissension, some of whomprofessed to be clergy of the Church, and some Nonconformists. 

The gentleman just now officiating at Darlaston belonged to the secondclass. His sermon was a violent diatribe against kings in general, and"Charles Stuart" in particular, to which the few Royalists in hiscongregation had to listen with what patience they might. 

Jenny Lavender did not carry away a word of it. Her head was full ofthe honour and glory of driving in the Bentley Hall coach (wherein sheoccupied the lowest seat by the door), and of sitting in the BentleyHall pew. 

She only hoped that Ruth Merston and Dolly Campion, and all the othergirls of her acquaintance, were there to see her. 

They drove back in the same order. Then came dinner. 

As Jenny took her seat at the table she perceived that a stranger waspresent, who sat on the right hand of Mrs Lane, and to whom so muchdeference was paid that she guessed he must be somebody of note. He wasdressed in a suit of black plush, slashed with yellow satin, and a blackbeaver hat; for gentlemen then always wore their hats at dinner. Hismanners charmed Jenny exceedingly. Whenever he spoke to either of theladies, he always lifted his plumed hat for a moment. Even her modelgentleman, Robin Featherstone, had never treated her with that courtesy. 

Jenny was still further enchanted when she heard Mrs Lane say to him, "My Lord. "

So interested and excited was she that she actually presumed to askMillicent, in a whisper, who the stranger was. Millicent onlydemolished her by a look. The steward, on the other side of Jenny, wasmore accommodating. 

"That is my Lord Wilmot, " he said; "an old friend of the Colonel. "

Jenny would have liked to ask a dozen questions, but she did not dare. She already expected a scolding from Millicent, and received it beforean hour was over. 

"How dare you, Jane Lavender, " demanded Jenny's superior officer, "letyour voice be heard at the Colonel's table?"

"If you please, Mrs Millicent, " answered Jenny, who was ratherfrightened, "I think only Mr Wright heard it. "

"You think! Pray, what business have you to think? Mrs Jane does notpay you for thinking, I'm sure. "

Jenny was too much cowed to say what she thought--that Mrs Jane did notpay her extra to hold her tongue. She only ventured on a timidsuggestion that "they talked at the lower table. "

"Don't quote the lower table to me, you vulgar girl! You deserve to bethere, for your manners are not fit for the upper. Everybody knows thelower table is only for the household"--a word which then meant theservants--"but those who sit at the upper, and belong to the family, must hold their tongues. If we did not, strangers might take us for thegentlewomen. "

Jenny silently and earnestly wished they would. 

"Now then, go into the parlour and behave yourself!" was the concludingorder from Millicent. 

Poor Jenny escaped into the parlour, with a longing wish in her heartfor the old farmhouse kitchen, where nobody thought of putting a lockupon her lips. She felt she was buying her dignities very dear. 

What was she to do all this long Sunday afternoon? Being Sunday, ofcourse she could not employ herself with needlework; and though she wasfond of music, and was a fairly good performer on the virginals, she didnot dare to make a noise. 

She was not much of a reader, and if she had been, there were no bookswithin her reach but the Bible and a cookery book, on the former ofwhich, for private reading, Jenny looked as a mere precursor of theundertaker. 

Sunday afternoon and evening, at the farmhouse, were the chief times ofthe week for enjoyment. There were sure to be visitors, plenty of talkand music, and afterwards a dance: for only the Puritans regarded theSabbath as anything but a day for amusement, after morning service wasover. Farmer Lavender, though a sensible and respectable man in hisway, was not a Puritan; and though his mother did not much like Sundaydancing, she had not set her face so determinately against it as toforbid it to the girls. 

The long use of _The Book of Sports_, set forth by authority, andpositively compelling such ways of spending the Sabbath evening, hadblunted the perception of many well-meaning people. The idea was thatpeople must amuse themselves, or they would spend their leisure time inplotting treason! and the rulers having been what we should callRitualists, they considered that the holiness of the day ended whenDivine service was over, and people were thenceforward entitled to doanything they liked. Yet there in the Bible was the Lord's command to"turn away from doing their pleasure on His holy day. "

CHAPTER THREE. 

THE GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 

Jenny, crushed by Millicent, crept into a corner of the parlour, fromwhich she amused herself in the only way she could find--watching thefamily and their guest, Lord Wilmot. They sat in the bay window, conversing in low tones, a few words now and then reaching Jenny in hercorner, but only just enough to give her an idea that they were speakingof the young fugitive King, and of the sore straits to which he might bereduced. His stay at Boscobel House, and his subsequent adventure inthe oak, so well known in future years, were discussed at length, for itwas only a few days since they had happened. 

"What a mercy the leaves were on the trees!" said Mrs Lane. 

"Ay, in very deed, " replied the Colonel. "Had the boughs been bare, HisMajesty had been taken without fail. "

"I saw him two days gone, " added Lord Wilmot, "and a sorry sight he was:his dress a leather doublet, with pewter buttons; a pair of old greenbreeches and a coat of the same; his own stockings, the embroidered topscut off; a pair of old shoes, too small for him, cut and slashed to giveease to his feet; an old, grey, greasy hat, without lining, and a noggenshirt of the coarsest linen. "

The word _noggen_ originally meant made of hemp, and had come to signifyany texture which was thick, rough, and clumsy. 

"Poor young gentleman!" exclaimed Mrs Lane. 

"What a condition for the King of England!" said the Colonel, indignantly. 

"Ay, truly, " answered Lord Wilmot. "The disgrace is England's, not hisown. "

Mr Lane was one of the party this evening. He was an elderly man, andan invalid, mostly keeping to his own quiet room. Mrs Lane, who wasyounger, and much more active, managed the house and estate with thehelp of her son; and the Colonel having for some years been practicallythe master, was generally spoken of as such among the tenants. The oldman now rose, and said that he would go back to his own chamber. TheColonel gave his arm to his father to help him upstairs; and Mrs Jane, turning from the window, caught sight of Jenny's tired, dull look. 

"Come, we have had enough of talk!" said she. "Sweep the rushes aside, and let us end the evening with a dance. "

"You were best to dance after supper, " responded her mother, glancing atthe clock. "There is but a half-hour now. "

Mrs Jane assented to this, and going to the virginals, called Jenny tocome and sing. The half-hour passed rapidly, until the server, orwaiter, came to say that supper was served in the hall, and the partysat down. 

As Jenny took her place, she saw Robin Featherstone making room at thelower table for a stranger--a young man, aged about two or three andtwenty, dressed in a tidy suit of grey cloth, and apparently a newservant. His complexion was unusually dark, and his hair jet black. Hewas not handsome, and as Jenny did not admire dark complexions, shementally set him down as an uninteresting person--probably Lord Wilmot'sman. 

The good-natured steward, on her right hand, noticed Jenny's look at thenew comer. 

"That is Mrs Jane's new man, " said he kindly; "he goeth with you intoSomerset. My Lord Wilmot hath spoken for him to the Colonel, andcommends him highly, for a young man of exceeding good character. "

Young men of good character were not attractive people to Jenny; a youngman with good looks would have had much more chance of her regard. 

"His name is William Jackson, " added the steward. 

Jenny was rather sorry to hear that this uninteresting youth would haveto go with them to Bristol; the rather, because it destroyed the lastvestige of a faint hope she had entertained, that Robin Featherstonemight be chosen for that purpose. 

The worst of all her grievances was, that she seemed completely cut offfrom his delightful society. She had really seen far more of him at thefarm than she did now, when she was living in the same house. And thento have all her rose-coloured visions for the future destroyed--Jennyfelt herself a badly used young woman. 

Supper ended, the dance followed according to Mrs Jane's decree, ledoff by herself and Lord Wilmot; and Jenny, to her great satisfaction, found herself the partner of the enchanting Robin. 

"Mrs Jenny, I have not had so much as a word with you sinceyestereven!" said that gentleman reproachfully. 

"No, in very deed, " assented Jenny; "and I hear you go not intoSomerset, Mr Featherstone. "

"No such luck!" lamented the valet. "I'm to be mewed up here. Thatblack crow yonder will rob me of all your sweet smiles, my charmer. "

"Indeed he won't!" said Jenny. "I don't like the look of him, I cantell you. "

At that moment the new servant, and his partner, the dairy-maid, whiskedround close beside them, and Jenny saw, from the amused twinkle in hisdark eyes, that Jackson had overheard her disparaging remark. 

"He looks as if he hadn't washed himself this week, " observed MrFeatherstone, whose complexion was fair. 

"He's an ill-looking fellow, " replied Jenny. 

"Do you hear what they say of you?" asked Fortune, the dairy-maid, ofher partner. 

"I hear 'em, " was Will Jackson's reply. 

"Won't you knock him down?"

"I think not. Wouldn't be convenient to the Colonel. "

"I doubt you're chicken-hearted, " replied she. 

"Think so?" said Will Jackson, quite calmly. 

"Well, you're a queer fellow!" said Fortune. 

"Hold you there!" was the reply; "I shall be queerer anon. "

The Monday was a very busy day, for Mrs Jane proposed to set forth withthe lark on the Tuesday morning. She had obtained a pass from theParliament for herself and friends, and four others were to accompanyher; her cousin Mr Lascelles, and his wife, and a neighbouring lady andgentleman named Petre. Jenny was very busy all day packing trunks andbags under the instructions of her young mistress. In the afternoon, asthey were thus employed, Mrs Lane came rather hastily into the room. 

"Jane, child, " she said to her daughter, "I am really concerned that youshould have no better attendance in your journey than that fellowJackson. I do indeed think we must send him back, and get you a moresuitable man. "

Mrs Jane was on her knees, packing a little leather trunk. She lookedup for a moment, and then resumed her work, giving all her attention toa troublesome box, which would not fit into the space that she had leftfor it. 

"Is he unsuitable, madam? I pray you, how so?"

"Child, the man doth not know his business. He is now in the yard, looking to your saddle and harness; and he doth not know how to take thecollar off the horse. Dick bade him lift the collar off Bay Winchester, and he was for taking it off without turning it. And really, some ofhis--"

The sentence was never finished. 

"O, Madam! O, Mrs Jane!" cried Millicent, coming in with upliftedhands. "That horrid creature. I'm certain sure he's a Roundhead!Robin has heard him speak such dreadful words! Do, I beseech you, madam, tell the Colonel that he is cherishing a crocodile in his bosom. We shall all be murdered in our beds before night!"

Mrs Jane sat back on the floor and laughed. 

"Ah, my dear young gentlewoman, you may laugh, " was the solemn commentof Millicent; "but I do assure you 'tis no laughing matter. If MrsJane will not listen to reason, madam, I beg _you_ to hear me when Itell you what I have heard. "

The solemnity of Millicent's tones was something awful. Mrs Jane, however, was so misguided as to laugh again; but her mother said, in ahalf-alarmed tone, "Well, Millicent, what is it? You speak of the newman, Jackson, I suppose?"

"Madam, Robin tells me that early this morning, as soon as my LordWilmot was gone, he went down to the blacksmith's with something of theColonel's--a chain, I think he said, or was it--"

"Never mind what it was, " said Mrs Jane; "let us have the story. "

"Well, he was in the blacksmith's shop, and to get out of the way of theblacks, which were flying all over, he had slipped behind the door; whenwho should come up but this Jackson, on Mrs Jane's horse, that had casta shoe. He could not see Robin, he being behind the door; I dare bebound if he had, he would not have been so free in his talk. You know, madam, what a horrid Roundhead the blacksmith is; Robin saith he wishesin his heart he never had to go near him. Well, as this fellow holdsthe horse's foot (and Robin says he did it the most awkward he eversaw), he asks the smith what news. `Oh, ' saith he, `none that I knowof, since the good news of the beating of the rogues of Scots. ' `What, 'saith Jackson, `are none of the English taken that were joined with theScots?' Then, madam, the smith said, saving your presence, for reallyit makes me feel quite creepy to repeat such shocking words, `I don'thear, ' quoth he, `that that rogue Charles Stuart is taken, but some ofthe others are. ' Oh, madam, to speak so dreadfully of His SacredMajesty!"

Mrs Millicent's eyes went up till more white than iris was visible. 

"Very shocking, truly, " said Mrs Lane. "Well, what further?"

"And then, madam, that Jackson said--Robin heard him!--`If that roguewere taken, ' quoth he, `he deserves to be hanged more than all the rest, for bringing in the Scots. ' Oh, dear, dear! that I should live to tellyou, madam, that a servant of my good master could let such words comeout of his lips! Then quoth the smith, `You speak like an honest man. 'And so Jackson up on the horse and rode away. "

"Well, it doth but confirm me in my view that the man is a mostunsuitable guard for you, Jane. I shall speak to your brother aboutmaking a change. "

"I don't think Jackson is a Roundhead, " said Mrs Jane quietly, rearranging some laces in a little box. 

"Dear heart, Mrs Jane! but what could the creature have said worse, ifhe had been Oliver Cromwell himself?"

"Well, and I do not think he is Oliver Cromwell either, " replied MrsJane, laughing. "And as to his not knowing his business, madam, " sheadded, turning to her mother, "I pray you remember how exceeding good acharacter my Lord Wilmot gave him. "

"My dear Jane! A good character is all very well, but I do want somecapability in my servants as well as character. You do not choose yourshoemaker because he is sober and steady, but because he makes goodshoes. "

"Under your correction, madam, he would not make good shoes long if hewere neither steady nor sober. Howbeit, I pray you, speak to mybrother: methinks you shall find him unready to discharge Jackson for nobetter reason than that he cannot take the collar off an horse. "

"But the words, Mrs Jane! Those awful words!"

"Very like they grew in Robin's brain, " calmly answered Mrs Jane, turning the lock of her trunk. "He is a bit jealous of Jackson, or Imistake. "

"Jealous of that black creature!" cried Millicent. "Why, he could nothold a tallow candle to Robin!"

"I dare say he won't try, " replied Mrs Jane, with a little amusement inher voice. 

Mrs Lane, who had left the room, returned looking somewhat discomfited. 

"No, I cannot win your brother to see it, " she said, in rather a vexedtone. "He thinks so much, as you do, of the commendation my Lord Wilmotgave the young man. He saith he is sure he is not a Roundhead (I marvelhow he knows); and as for his inaptitude, he said the man hath not beenbefore in service, and hath all to learn. If that be so, it cannot behelped, and you will have to be patient with him, Jane. "

"I will be as patient as I can, madam, " said Mrs Jane gravely. 

"Oh, my dear Mrs Jane! Oh, Madam! how you _can_!" exclaimed Millicent. "We shall all be murdered by morning, I feel certain of it! Oh, dear, dear!"

"Then you'd better make your will this evening, " coolly observed MrsJane. "Look here, Millicent, should you like these cherry ribbons?They would not go ill with your grey gown. "

Millicent passed in a moment from the depths of despair to the heightsof ecstasy. 

"Oh, how good of you, Mrs Jane! They are perfectly charming! I shalltake the guarding off my grey gown to-morrow, and put them on. "

"If you survive, " said Mrs Jane solemnly. 

Millicent looked slightly disconcerted. 

"Well, Mrs Jane, I was going to tell you--but after what Madam said--ifthe young man be respectable--I don't know, really--this morning, as hewas coming into the hall, I thought--I really thought he was going tooffer to take me by the hand. It gave me such a turn!"

"I don't see why, if he had washed his hands, " said Mrs Jane. 

"Oh, Mrs Jane! what things you do say!"

Millicent had some excuse for her horror, since at that time shakinghands was a form of greeting only used between relatives or the mostintimate friends. To give the hand to an inferior was the greatestpossible favour. 

"Well, " said Mrs Jane, locking the second trunk, "I expect Will Jacksonis a decent fellow, and will attend me very well. At any rate, I meanto try him. "

"Well, Mrs Jane, I have warned you!"

"You have so, Millicent. And if Jackson murders me before I come home, I promise to agree with you. But I don't believe he will. "

"Well!" repeated Millicent, "one thing is certain; the creature hassurely never been in a _gentleman's_ service before. I expect he hasfollowed the plough all his life. But I do hope, Mrs Jane, you maycome back safe. "

"Thank you, Millicent; so do I, " answered Mrs Jane. 

The friends who were to accompany Mrs Jane arrived at Bentley Hall onthe Monday evening, and the party set out, eight in all, a little afterfive o'clock on the Tuesday morning. Mrs Lascelles and Mrs Petre rodebehind their husbands; Mrs Jane behind her new man, Jackson. For Jennyan escort was provided in the shape of Mr Lascelles' servant, asober-looking man of about forty years, whom she thought mostuninteresting. So they rode away from Bentley Hall, Robin Featherstonekissing his hand to Jenny, and making her a very elaborate bow in thebackground. 

The first day's journey brought them to the house of Mr Norton, arelative of the Lanes. 

"Remember, Jackson, " said Mrs Jane as she alighted, "I shall want mypalfrey by six to-morrow morning at the latest. "

Jackson touched his hat, and promised obedience. Mr Norton led MrsJane into the house, desiring his butler, whose name was Pope, to lookto her man, and to put Jenny in the care of Mrs Norton's maid. Jenny, being unused to ride much on horseback, was sadly tired by her day'sjourney, and very glad when bed-time came. She made one nap of hernight's rest, and was not very readily roused when, before it was fullylight, a tap came on Mrs Jane's door. 

Mrs Jane sat up in bed, awake at once. 

"Who is there? Come within, " she said. 

The answer was the entrance of Ellice, Mrs Norton's maid. 

"I crave pardon for disturbing you thus early, madam, but my mistresshath sent me to say your man is took very sick of an ague, and 'twillnot be possible for you to continue your journey to-day. "

"How? Was ever anything so unfortunate!" cried Mrs Jane. "Is hereally very bad?"

"My master thinks, madam, he is not the least fit for a journey. "

Mrs Jane lay down again, with an exclamation of dismay. 

"I do hope the young man is not weakly, " she said. "'Tis most annoying. I reckoned, entirely, on continuing my journey to-day. Well, there isno help, I suppose, though this news is welcome but as water into aship. We must make a virtue of necessity. Come, Jenny, we'll takeanother nap. May as well have what comfort we can. "

And, turning round, Mrs Jane went off to sleep again. 

For three days Mr Norton reported Jackson quite too poorly to ride; onthe fourth he was a little better, and by the evening of the followingSunday it was thought Mrs Jane might venture to resume her journey thenext day. 

They were up early the next morning, and as Jenny followed her mistressinto the hall, Mrs Norton being with them, Pope and Jackson came infrom the opposite door. Jackson at once came forward to meet them, andfor an instant Jenny was reminded of Millicent's complaint, for heseemed just on the point of shaking hands with the ladies. Suddenly hedrew back, took off his hat, and with a low bow informed Mrs Jane thathe was ready to do her service. 

The departure was fixed to take place after dinner; but before that mealwas served, Mrs Norton was seized with sudden and serious illness. Mrs Jane showed great concern for her cousin, seeming to Jenny's eyesmuch more distressed than she had been for the previous postponement ofher journey. While everything was in confusion, a cavalcade of visitorsunexpectedly arrived, and made the confusion still greater. Mrs Janearranged to stay for some days longer, and act as hostess in MrsNorton's place. 

As the party sat that night at supper, a traveller's horn sounded at thegate, and Pope, having gone to receive the new arrival, returned with aletter, which he gave to Mrs Jane. 

"Dear heart!" she exclaimed in surprise, "what have we now here? Thisis from my mother. "

"Pray you open it quickly, cousin, " replied Mr Norton. "I trust it isno ill news. "

Mrs Jane's reply was to bury her face in her handkerchief. She seemedscarcely able to speak; but Mr Norton, to whom she passed the letter, informed the company that it contained very sad news from Bentley Hall. Mr Lane had become so much worse during the week of his daughter'sabsence, that her mother desired her to return as soon as she had paid ahurried visit to her cousins in Somersetshire. 

"I fear, cousin, we must not keep you with us longer, " said Mr Norton, kindly to Jane. 

Mrs Jane was understood to sob that she must go on the next morning. Too much overcome to remain, she left the hall, and went up to thechamber of Mrs Norton, still with her handkerchief at her eyes. Jennyfollowed her, going into her bedroom, which was near to that of thehostess. She heard voices through the wall, accompanied by sounds whichrather puzzled her. Was Mrs Jane weeping? It sounded much more likelaughing. But how could anyone expect so devoted a daughter to have theheart to laugh on this sad occasion?

When Mrs Jane came out of her cousin's room, she was apparently calmand comforted. The handkerchief had disappeared; but considering thebitter sobs she had heard, Jenny wondered that her eyes were not redder. 

The journey was resumed, and they arrived safely at Trent Hall, theresidence of Colonel Wyndham, who was strolling about his grounds, andmet them as they came up to the house. Mrs Jane having alighted andshaken hands with her cousin the Colonel, it astonished Jenny to seeWill Jackson go familiarly up as if to offer the same greeting. Remembering himself in an instant, he slunk back as he had done before, and took off his hat with a low bow. Colonel Wyndham, Jenny thought, looked rather offended at Jackson's bad manners, dismissing him by anod, and calling one of his stable-men to see to him, while he took MrsJane into the house. Jenny felt once again that Millicent must haveguessed rightly, and that Jackson had never been in service in agentleman's family before. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

SUDDEN CHANGES. 

Great was the lamentation among the cousins at Trent House, when it wasfound that Mrs Jane could stay only two days with them, instead of thetwo months upon which they had reckoned. 

"I am the most to be pitied, Jane, " said one of the young ladies, whosename was Juliana Coningsby, "for I start for Lyme in a week hence, and Ihad hoped to win you to accompany me thither. Now I know not what to dofor a convoy. "

"Well, I cannot go, Gillian, " was the answer, "yet may I help you atthis pinch. Take you my man as your guard; I can contrive without him, since my good cousin, Mr Lascelles, is to return with me. "

A little friendly altercation followed, Mrs Juliana protesting that shecould not dream of depriving her cousin of so needful a servant, andMrs Jane assuring her that the pleasure of helping her out of adifficulty was more than compensation for so slight an inconvenience;but in the end it was agreed that Jackson should proceed with MrsJuliana, returning to Bentley Hall when she should no longer require hisservices. 

The party of eight, therefore, who had left Bentley, were reduced tofour on their return, Mrs Jane and Mr Lascelles on one horse, Jennyand Mr Lascelles' groom upon another. 

They reached the Hall late on a Thursday evening, Mr Lascellessuggesting when they came to the lodge that Mrs Jane should sit andrest for a few minutes, while he rode up to the house to hear the latestnews of Mr Lane's health. 

The woman who kept the lodge came out courtesying to meet them, andJenny wondered why they did not ask her how the old gentleman was. 

Mr Lascelles, however, had ridden hastily forward, and he soon returnedwith cheering news. Mr Lane had "got well over this brunt, " he said;and Mrs Jane professed herself much cheered and comforted to hear it. 

In the hall, as they entered, was Millicent. 

"Well, Millicent, I'm not murdered, you see!" cried Mrs Jane cheerily. 

"Indeed, Mrs Jane, I'm glad to see it, in especial considering all thewarnings we've had. Three times of a night hath old Cupid bayed themoon; and a magpie lighted on the tree beside my window only thismorning; and last night I heard the death-watch, as plain as plain couldbe!"

"Oh, then, that's for you, not me, " responded Mrs Jane quitecheerfully; "so look Jackson doth not murder you on his return, as hehas left me unharmed. "

Millicent looked horrified. 

"Oh me! Mrs Jane, is the fellow coming back?"

Mrs Jane only laughed, and said, "Look out!"

Considering the chain of shocks and disappointments which Mrs Jane hadsuffered, Jenny was astonished to see how extremely bright and mirthfulshe was, and still more surprised to perceive that thislight-heartedness appeared to infect the Colonel. It was not, however, shared by Mrs Lane. 

"Well, Jane, child, " she said one morning to her daughter, "I am trulyglad to see thee so light of heart, in especial after all the troublesand discomfitures thou hast gone through. 'Tis a blessing to have ahopeful nature. "

"Oh, I never trouble over past clouds when the sun shines again, madam, "said Mrs Jane cheerily. 

"I marvel what we can make of your man, when he cometh back, " resumedMrs Lane. "If you go not now again into Somerset, you will have nowork for him to do. "

"Maybe, Madam, he shall not return hither, " answered her daughter. 

"My cousin, Colonel Wyndham, had some notion he could find him a goodplace down yonder, and I thought you would judge it best to leave thematter to his discretion. "

"Oh, very good, " assented Mrs Lane. "So much the better. I would nothave the young man feel himself ill-used, when my Lord Wilmot spake sowell of him. "

"There is no fear of that, I hope, " replied Mrs Jane. 

"O Mrs Jane! I am so thankful to hear that creature may not come back, after all!" cried Millicent. 

"Ay, Millicent, you may sleep at ease in your bed, " said Mrs Jane, looking amused. "But I marvel why you feared him thus. I found him aright decent fellow, I can assure you. "

"Then I can assure you solemnly, madam, " answered Millicent, with a lookto match her words, "that is more than I did. Never can I forget thehorrid moment when I thought that nasty black creature went about totake me by the hand. It made me feel creepy all over--faugh! I cannotfind words to tell you!"

"Pray don't trouble yourself, " calmly responded Mrs Jane. "I am goingupstairs, so you need not give yourself the labour to look for them. "

Before many weeks were over, Colonel Lane came one evening into thedrawing-room, to report a wonderful piece of good news. 

"His Majesty hath escaped the realm!" cried he, "and is now clean oversea to France. "

"God be praised!" exclaimed his mother. "This is indeed good news. "

Farmer Lavender was almost as excited as his landlord, and declared thathe would light a bonfire in the farm-yard, if he could be sure thestacks wouldn't get alight. 

"Nay, Joe, I wouldn't, " said his prudent mother. "Thou can be as gladas thou wilt, and the Parliament 'll say nought to thee; but bonfires isbonfires, lad. "

Will Jackson did not come back to Bentley, and Mrs Jane remarked in asatisfied tone that she supposed Colonel Wyndham had found a place tosuit him. 

Millicent contemptuously observed to Jenny that she wondered how ColonelWyndham, who was a gentleman born, could take any trouble about thatcreature Jackson. 

"Well, and I do too, a bit, " said Jenny, "for I'm sure the Colonel didnot seem over pleased when Will would have taken him by the hand as wewas a-coming up to the house. "

"No, you don't say!" ejaculated Millicent. "Did he really, now?--to theColonel? Well, I'm sure, the world's getting turned upside down. "

Millicent was considerably more of that opinion when a few months wereover. Early one spring morning, before anyone was up, some slight butsingular noises roused Mrs Jane from sleep, and calling Jenny, shedesired her to look out of the window and see what was the matter. 

Jenny's shriek, when she did so, brought her young mistress to thecasement in a moment. Bentley Hall was surrounded by armed men--Parliamentary soldiers, standing still and stern--awaiting in completesilence the orders of their commander. 

Mrs Jane went very white, but her self-command did not desert her. 

"Never mind screaming, Jenny, " she said coolly. "That will do no good. They'll not take you, child; and these Roundheads, whatever else theyare, are decent men that harm not women and children. I must say somuch for them. Come quick, and dress me, and I will go down to them. "

"Oh dear!" cried Jenny. "Madam, they'll kill you!"

"Not they!" said the young lady. "I'm not afraid, --not of a man, at anyrate. I don't say I should have no fear of a ghost. Jenny, hast thoulost thy head? Here be two shoes--not a pair--thou hast given me; andwhat art thou holding out the pomade for? I don't wash in pomade. "

Jenny, who was far more flurried and frightened than her mistress, confusedly apologised as she exchanged the pomade for the soap. 

"But--Oh dear! madam, will they take you?" she asked. 

"Maybe not, child, " said Mrs Jane, quite coolly. "Very like not. Iguess 'tis rather my brother they want. We shall see all the sooner, Jenny, if thou makest no more blunders. "

Jenny, however, contrived to make several more, for she was almost tooexcited and terrified to know what she was doing. She put on MrsJane's skirt wrong side out, offered her the left sleeve of her kirtlefor the right arm, and generally behaved like a girl who was frightenedout of her wits. 

Mrs Jane, dressed at last, softly opened her door, and desired Jenny tofollow. 

"I will wake none else till I know what the matter is, " she said. 

"Come after me, and I will speak with the Captain of these men from thelittle window in the hall. "

Jenny obeyed, feeling as if she were more dead than alive. 

Mrs Jane quietly unfastened the little window, and said to a soldierwho had taken up his position close beside it--"I would speak with yourCaptain. "

The Captain appeared in a moment. 

"For what reason are you here?" asked the young lady. 

"Madam, I hold a warrant to take the bodies of Thomas Lane, and JohnLane his son, and I trust that none in this house shall impede me in theexecution of my duty. "

"My brother!--and my father!" exclaimed Mrs Jane, under her breath. 

"Sir, we shall not do that. But will you suffer me to say to you thatmy father is an old and infirm man, in weakly health, and I beg of youthat you will be as merciful to his condition as your duty will allow. "

The Roundhead captain bowed. 

"Be assured, madam, " he said respectfully, "that Mr Lane shall farebetter for the beseechment of so good a daughter, and that I will domine utmost to have him gently handled. "

"I thank you, sir, " replied Mrs Jane, as she closed the window. 

Then, Jenny still following, a little less frightened, since the enemyseemed after all to be a man, and not a very bad man either. 

Mrs Jane went upstairs and tapped at her brother's door. 

"Who's there?" demanded the Colonel's voice very sleepily. 

"The reward of your deeds, " answered his sister, drily. "Make haste andbusk thee, Jack; thou art wanted to go to prison. "

"Very good!" responded the Colonel, to Jenny's astonishment. "Do youbear me company?"

"Nay; would I did, rather than our father. "

"Our father! Is _he_--?"

"Ay. God have mercy on us!" said Mrs Jane gravely. 

"Amen!" came through the closed door. 

"Jenny, go back to my chamber, " said her mistress. "I will come to theeanon. The hardest of my work lieth afore me yet. "

For two hours all was haste and tumult in Bentley Hall. Then, when thesoldiers had departed, carrying their prisoners with them, a hush almostlike that of death fell upon the house. 

Mrs Lane had wept till she had no more tears to shed; her daughter didnot weep, but she looked very white and sad. 

"Now you mark my words!" said Millicent to Jenny; "'tis that Jackson hasdone it. He's played the traitor. Didn't I always say he was aRoundhead! Depend upon it, he's betrayed something the Colonel's donein His Majesty's service, and that's why that wicked Parliament's downon him. Robin, he says the same. He never did like that scheming blackcreature, and no more did I. "

"Well, I don't know! He seemed a decent sort o' man, far as I couldsee, only that he wasn't well-favoured, " said Jenny doubtfully. 

"He was a snake in the grass!" said Millicent solemnly; "and you'll findthat out, Jenny Lavender. "

To the surprise of the whole family, and themselves most of all, theprisoners were released after only four months' detention. That wasconsidered an exceedingly short business in 1652. Neither father norson seemed any worse for their trial; the Roundheads, they said, had nottreated them ill, and had even allowed sundry extra comforts to old MrLane. 

So matters dropped back into their old train at Bentley Hall for about amonth longer. Then, one August morning, Colonel Lane, who had ridden toKidderminster, entered the parlour with an open letter in his hand. Hisface was grave almost to sternness, and when his sister saw it, anexpression of alarm came into her eyes. 

"A letter, Jane, from Penelope Wyndham, " he said, giving her the letter. 

"Mrs Millicent and Mrs Jenny, I pray you give us leave. "

That was a civil way of saying, "Please to leave the room, " and ofcourse it was at once obeyed. Evidently something of consequence was tobe discussed. 

"I do hope Mrs Jane will not go away again, " said Millicent. 

"Well, I don't know; I shouldn't be sorry if she did, " answered Jenny. 

"Very like not; you think you'd go withal. But I can tell you it isvastly dull for us left behind. There's a bit of life when she ishere. "

Jenny went up to Mrs Jane's room, where she occupied herself by tackingclean white ruffles into some of her mistress's gowns. She had notprogressed far when that young lady came up, with a very disturbed face. 

"Let those be, " she said, seeing how Jenny was employed. "Jenny, child, I am grieved to tell thee, but thou must needs return to thine ownhome. "

"Send me away!" gasped Jenny. "Oh, Mrs Jane, madam, what have I done!"

"Nothing, child, nothing; 'tis not that. I am going away myself. "

"And mustn't I go with you?" asked Jenny, in a very disappointed tone. 

"To France? We are going to France, child. "

Jenny felt in a whirl of astonishment. Going abroad in those days waslooked on as a very serious matter, not to be undertaken except for someimportant reason, and requiring a great deal of deliberation. And herewas Mrs Jane, after scarcely half-an-hour's reflection, announcing thatshe was going to start at once for France. 

Mrs Jane put her hand in her pocket. 

"Here be thy wages, Jenny, " she said. "Twelve pound by the year weagreed on, and thou hast been with me scarce a year; howbeit, twelvepound let it be. And for the ill-conveniency I put thee to, to sendthee away thus suddenly, thou shalt have another pound, and my floweredtabby gown. Thou wilt soon win another place if thou list to tarry inservice, and my mother hath promised to commend thee heartily to anygentlewoman that would have thee. 

"So cheer up, child; there is no need for thee to fret. "

Jenny felt as if she had considerable need to fret. Here were all herdistinctions flying away from her at a minute's notice. Instead ofbeing Mrs Jenny, and sitting in the drawing-room at Bentley Hall, shewould once more be plain Jenny Lavender in the farmhouse kitchen. Itwas true her freedom would return to her; but by this time she hadbecome accustomed to the restraint, and did not mind it nearly so much. The tears overflowed and ran down. 

"Come, come, child!" said Mrs Jane, giving her a gentle pat on theshoulder; "take not on thus, prithee. Thy life is yet before thee. Cheer up and play the woman! Ah, Jenny, maid, 'tis well for thee thouart not so high up as some I could name, and therefore shalt fall thelighter. Now go, and pack up thy mails, and Robin shall take thee andthem to the farm this evening. "

"Must I go to-day, madam?" exclaimed Jenny, more dismayed than ever. 

"I go myself to-day, Jenny, " said Mrs Jane, gently but gravely. "Thematter will brook no delay. Take thine heart to thee, and do as I bidthee: thou wert best be out of it all. "

Poor Jenny went slowly up to the garret to fetch her bags, which hadbeen stowed there out of the way. 

As she came down with them in her hands, she met Millicent. 

"You've had warning, have you?" said Millicent, in a whisper. "There'ssomewhat wrong, you take my word for it! You make haste and get away, and thank your stars you've a good home to go to. We're all to go, every soul save two--old Master's Diggory and me. "

"What, Mr Featherstone too?" exclaimed Jenny. 

"Oh, he's going with the Colonel to France. But Master and Madam, theyset forth to-morrow, and Diggory and I go with them. Mark my words, there's somewhat wrong! and if it goes much further, I shall just givemy warning and be off. I've no notion of getting into trouble for otherfolks. "

"But whatever is it all about?" said Jenny. 

"Well, if you want my thoughts on it, " whispered Millicent, in animportant tone, "I believe it's all 'long of that Jackson. You thoughthe was a decent sort of fellow, you know. But you've to learn yet, Jenny Lavender, as all isn't gold as glitters. "

"I think I'm finding that out, Mrs Millicent, " sighed Jenny; "didn't Ithink I was made for life no further back than yesterday? However, there's no time to waste. "

She packed up her things, and made a hurried dinner; took leave of allin the house, not without tears; and then, mounting Bay Winchesterbehind Robin Featherstone, rode home in the cool of the evening. 

"Farewell, sweetheart!" said Featherstone, gallantly kissing Jenny'sfingers. "I go to France, but I leave my heart in Staffordshire. Prayyou, sweet Mrs Jenny, what shall I bring you for a fairing from the gaycity of Paris? How soon we shall return the deer knows; but you willwait for your faithful Robin?" And Mr Featherstone laid his handelegantly on his heart. 

"Oh, you'll forget all about me when you are over there taking yourpleasure, " said Jenny, in a melancholy tone. 

Mr Featherstone was only half through a fervent asseveration to theeffect that such a catastrophe was a complete impossibility, when FarmerLavender came out. 

"What, Jenny I come to look at us?" said he. "Thou'rt as welcome, mylass, as flowers in May. But how's this--bags and all? Thou'st neverbeen turned away, child?"

"Not for nought ill, father, " said Jenny, almost crying with conflictingfeelings; "but Mrs Jane, she's going to France, and all's that upset--"and Jenny sobbed too much to proceed. 

Mr Featherstone came to the rescue, and explained matters. 

"Humph!" said the farmer; "that's it, is it? World's upset, prettynigh, seems to me. Well, folks can't always help themselves--that'strue enough. Howbeit, thou'rt welcome home, Jenny! there's always aplace for thee here, if there's none anywhere else. You'll come in andtake a snack, Mr Featherstone?"

Mr Featherstone declined with effusive thanks. He had not a moment tospare. He remounted Winchester, shook hands with the farmer, kissed hishand to Jenny, and rode away. And the question whether Jenny would waitfor his return was left unanswered. 

"I'm glad to see thee back, my lass, " said old Mrs Lavender. "Home'sthe best place for young lasses. Maybe, too, thou'lt be safer at thefarm than at the Hall. The times be troublous; and if more mischief'slike to overtake the Colonel, though I shall be sorry enough to see it, I shan't be sorry to know thou art out of it. Art thou glad to comeback or not, my lass?"

"I don't know, Granny, " said Jenny. 

Kate laughed. "Have you had your fling and come down, Jenny?" sheasked; "or haven't you had fling enough?--which is it?"

"I think it's a bit of both, " said Jenny. "It's grand to be at theHall, and ride in the coach, and sit in the pew at church, and that; butI used to get dreadful tired by times, it seemed so dull. There's adeal more fun here, and I'm freer like. But--"

Jenny left her "but" unfinished. 

"Ay, there's a many buts, I shouldn't wonder, " said Kate, laughing. "Well, Jenny, you've seen somewhat of high life, and you've got it totalk about. "

Jenny felt very sad when she went to church on the following Sunday. The Hall pew was empty, and Jenny herself was once more a mere nobody inthe corner of her father's seat. There was no coach to ride in; andvery humiliated she felt when Dorothy Campion gave her a smart blow onthe back as she went down the churchyard. 

"Well, _Mrs_. Jenny! so you've come down from your pedestal? Going tobe very grand, weren't you?--couldn't see your old acquaintances lastSunday! But hey, presto, all is changed, and my fine young madam comedown to a farmhouse lass. 

"How was it, Jenny? Did Mrs Jane catch you at the mirror, trying onher sky-coloured gown? or had her necklace slipped into your pocket byaccident? Come, tell us all about it. "

"She gave me a gown, then, " said Jenny, with spirit; "and that's more, Iguess, than she ever did to you, Dolly Campion. And as for why I'm comehome, it's neither here nor there. Mrs Jane's a-going to France, to beone of the Queen's ladies, maybe, and that's why; so you can take yourchange out o' that. "

Miss Campion immediately proceeded to take her change out of it. 

"Dear heart, Jenny, and why ever didn't you go and be one of the Queen'sladies, too?"

"Oh, she's climbed up so high, queens isn't good enough company forher, " suggested Abigail Walker, coming to Dolly's help. 

"Now, you two go your ways like tidy maids, " said the voice of TomFenton behind them; "and don't make such a to-do of a Sabbath morning. 

"Jenny, I'll see you home if you give me leave. "

He spoke with a quiet dignity, which was not like the old Tom Fentonwhom Jenny had known; and his manner was more that of a friend helpingher to get rid of an annoyance, than that of a suitor who grasped at anopportunity of pleading his cause. 

"I thank you, Tom, and I'll be glad of it, " said the humbled andharassed Jenny. 

So they went back together, Tom showing no sign that he heard Dorothy'sderisive cry of--

"Room for Her Majesty's Grace's Highness and her servant the carpenter!"

The word lover, at that day, meant simply a person who loved you; wherewe say "lover, " they said "servant. "

At the farmhouse door Tom took his leave. 

"No, I thank you, Jenny, " he said, when she asked him to come in; "I'mgoing on to Uncle Anthony's to dinner. Good morning. "

And Jenny felt that some mysterious change in Tom had put a distancebetween him and her. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

WILL JACKSON REAPPEARS. 

Fortune May, the dairy-maid at Bentley Hall, came into the farmhouse atsupper-time that Sunday evening. 

"Well, they're all gone, " said she, "and the house shut up. They saythe Parliament 'll send folks down to take it some day this week, and'll give it to some of their own people. "

"Ay, I hear Mr Chadderton, whose land joins the Colonel's, has appliedfor it, " answered Farmer Lavender. "Though he's a Roundhead, he's afriend of the Colonel's, and I shouldn't wonder if he give it him backwhen King Charles comes in. "

"That'll not be so soon, I take it, " observed his mother. 

"The time's out of joint, " said the farmer. "I'd as lief not saywhat'll be or won't be. "

"Jenny, I've a good jest to tell you, " said Fortune, with a twinkle inher eyes. "I did not see you in time afore you left the Hall. You'llmind, maybe, that Robin and me and Dolly Campion went together to thegreen, Sunday even?"

Yes, Jenny did remember, and had been rather put out that Featherstoneshould prefer Fortune's company to hers, though a little consoled by thereflection that it was on account of her superior dignity. 

"Well!" said Fortune, telling her tale with evident glee, "as we went upthe blind lane come a little lad running down as hard as ever he couldrun. `What's ado?' says I. `Mad bull! mad bull!' quoth he. Dolly wasa bit frighted, I think; I know I was. But will you believe it, Robin, he takes to his heels without another word, and leaves us two helplessmaids a-standing there. Dolly and me, we got over the gate into thestubble-field, and hid behind the hedge; and presently we saw some'ata-coming down the lane, but I thought it came mortal slow for a madbull. And when it got a bit nigh, lo and behold! it was Widow Goodwin'sold dun cow, as had strayed. There she was coming down the lane aspeaceable as could be, and staying by nows and thens to crop the grassby the roadside. We'd a good laugh at the mad bull, Dolly and me; andthen says I to Dolly, `Let's go and hunt out Robin. ' So we turned back, but nought of him could we see till we came to the big bean-field, andthen a voice comes through the hedge, `Is he by, maids?' Eh, but he isa coward! Did you think he'd been so white-livered as that?" FarmerLavender laughed heartily. Jenny was exceedingly disgusted. She triedto persuade herself that Fortune's tale was over-coloured, perhapsspiteful. But one and another present chimed in with anecdotes ofFeatherstone's want of moral and physical courage, till disbelief becameimpossible. 

"How will he get along in France, think you?" said Fortune. "They'venaught but frogs to eat there, have they?"

On that point the company was divided, being all equally ignorant. ButFarmer Lavender's good sense came to the rescue. 

"Why, " said he, "Jenny here tells me Colonel Wyndham's got a Frenchmanto his cook; and he'd make a poor cook if he'd never dressed nought butfrogs, I reckon. "

"They'll have a bit o' bread to 'em, like as not, " suggested thewaggoner. 

"Well, I must be going, " said Fortune, rising. "Jenny, what's come ofyour grand gown as Mrs Jane gave you? We looked to see you in it thisSunday. Folks 'll think it's all a make-up if you put it off so long. "

"'Tisn't finished making up, " said Kate, laughing. 

"You'll see me in it next Sunday, if you choose to look, " replied Jenny, in a rather affronted tone. 

She was put out by Fortune's hint that the dress was considered afiction; and she was thoroughly annoyed by the story aboutFeatherstone's cowardly conduct. Bravery was one of the qualities thatJenny particularly admired; and she could not help feeling angry withFeatherstone for thus lowering himself in her esteem. She thought of itmany times during the week, when she was altering the flowered tabby tofit herself, and by the time that the dress was finished, Jenny's regardfor Robin Featherstone was about finished also. Love she had never hadfor him; but he had flattered her vanity, and she liked it. 

The next Sunday morning came, and Jenny dressed herself in the floweredtabby, with a pink bow on her muslin tippet. With a gratified sense ofpride, she passed Fortune and Dolly Campion on her way up thechurchyard; not less gratified to hear their respective whispers. 

"Well, it wasn't a make-up, then!" said Dolly, in a rather disappointedtone. 

"Dear heart! isn't she fine?" responded Fortune. 

Little did Jenny Lavender think, as she passed up the aisle to herfather's pew, that the Jenny who entered that church was never to leaveit again. There was a stranger in the pulpit that day--a man of a verydifferent sort from the usual preacher. He was an old man, and thestyle of his sermon was old-fashioned. Instead of being a learned andclosely-reasoned discourse, seasoned with scraps of Latin, or apolitical essay on the events of the day, it was a sermon such as hadbeen more common in the beginning of the century--simple, almostconversational, striking, and full of Gospel truth. Such a sermon JennyLavender had never heard before. 

The text was Genesis, chapter 32, verse 26: "I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me. " The preacher told his hearers in a plainfashion, without any learned disquisitions or flowery phrases, whatblessing meant; that for God to bless a man was to give him, not what hewished, but what he really needed for his soul's welfare; that manythings which men thought blessings, were really evils, and that allwhich did not help a man towards God, only hurried him faster on theroad to perdition. He told them that Christ was God's greatestblessing, His unspeakable gift; and that he who received Him was intruth possessed of all things. When he came near the end of his sermon, he bent forward over the pulpit cushion, and spoke with affectionateearnestness to his hearers. 

"Now, brethren, how many here this day, " he said, "are ready to speakthese words unto the Lord? How many of you earnestly desire Hisblessing? What, canst thou not get so far, poor soul? Be thine handsso weak that thou canst not hold Him? Be thy feet so feeble that thoucanst not creep thus far up the ladder at the top whereof He standeth?Well, then, let us see if thou canst reach the step beneath--`Lord, Imost earnestly desire Thy salvation. ' Or is this too far for thy footto stretch? Canst thou say but, `Lord, I desire Thy salvation, ' howeverfeeble and faint thy desire be? Poor sinful soul, art thou so chainedand weak, that thou canst not come even so far? Then see if thytrembling foot will not reach the lowest step of all: `Lord, make me todesire Thy salvation. ' Surely, howsoever sunk in the mire, andhowsoever blind thou be, thou canst ask to be lifted forth, and to havesight given thee. Brethren, will ye not so do? When ye fall to yourprayers this even, ere ye sleep, will ye not say so much as this? Yea, will ye not go further, and run up the ladder, and cry with a mightyvoice, `I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me'?"

When Jenny Lavender came out of church, she stood on the second step ofthe ladder. She scarcely heard Abigail Walker's taunt of "Well, if MrsJane did give her the gown, I'll go bail she stole that pink ribbon. "Such things were far beneath one who had set foot on that ladder. AndJenny did not stay at the bottom; she ran up fast. By the time that sheknelt down at her bedside for her evening prayers, she had come to thefourth step--"I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me. "

The last atom of Jenny's old admiration for Robin Featherstone, whichhad been already shaken, vanished that day. The Spirit of God, who hadtouched her heart through the preacher, led her to see that folly, vanity, and frivolity were utterly out of concord with Him. And thencame a feeling of regret for the unkind flippancy with which she hadtreated Tom Fenton. Jenny knew that Tom was a Christian man; it hadbeen one reason why she despised him, so long as she was not herself aChristian woman. There was a gulf between them now, and of her owndigging. Tom had given over coming to the farm except on business; hegave her a kindly "Good morrow!" when they met, but it was no more thanhe gave to Kate, or any other girl of his acquaintance; and Jenny sawnothing of him beyond that. On every side she heard his praises, as adoer of brave and kindly actions. She knew that, apart from the mereoutside, there was not a man to be compared to Tom Fenton in the wholeneighbourhood. It was bitter to reflect that the time had been when Tomwas ready to put himself and all he had at her feet, and she had onlyher own folly to thank that it was over. No wonder Jenny grew graver, and looked older than she used to be. Her father was uneasy about her;he feared she was either ill or unhappy, and consulted his sensible oldmother. 

"Nay, " said Mrs Lavender, "Jenny's not took bad; and as for hersadness, it's just womanhood coming to her. Don't you spoil it, Joe. The furnace burns up the dross, and let it go! It won't hurt the goodgold. "

"You don't think then, mother, there's any fear of the dear lass goinginto a waste, like?" asked Farmer Lavender anxiously. 

"No, Joe, I don't; I'll let you know when I do. At this present I thinkshe's only coming to her senses a bit. "

The old preacher appeared no more in the pulpit at Darlaston; but so faras Jenny Lavender was concerned, he had done the work for which he wassent there. Jenny had not a single Christian friend except old PersisFenton; and she kept away from Tom's aunt, just because she was hisaunt. She was therefore shut up to her Bible, which she readdiligently; and perhaps she grew all the faster because she was watereddirect from the Fountain-Head. Old Mrs Lavender was wise in a moralsense, but not in a spiritual one, beyond having a general respect forreligion, and a dislike to any thing irreverent or profane. FarmerLavender shared this with her; but he looked on piety as a Sunday thing, too good to use every day. So Jenny stood alone in her own family. 

While all this was passing at the farm, Colonel Lane and Mrs Jane werespeeding, post-haste, to France. The Colonel explained to Featherstone, whom alone of his servants he took with him, that he and his sisterhaving had the honour of performing an important service to the King, their lives were in danger from the resentment of the Parliamentaryparty. 

The King himself was now safe at Paris, where they hoped to join him;and on arriving there, if Featherstone wished to return home, he thoughtthere was no doubt that he could get a passage for him in the suite ofsome person journeying to England. If, on the contrary, he preferred toremain in France, the Colonel would willingly retain his services. 

"I have entered into arrangements, " he concluded, "whereby my rents willbe secure, and will be remitted to me from time to time while we remainin France. I trust it may not be long ere the King shall be restored, and we can go back with him. "

Featherstone requested a little time to think the matter over. Hecertainly had no desire to leave the Colonel before reaching Paris, acity which he wished to see beyond all others. 

"Ay, take your time, " answered the Colonel. "My sister will provideherself with a woman when we arrive thither. In truth, it was not forher own sake, but for Jenny's, that she left her at home. "

This conversation confirmed Featherstone in two opinions which healready entertained. First, he was satisfied that an understanding hadbeen arrived at between the Colonel and his friend Mr Chadderton, whereby the latter was to remit the Colonel's rents under colour ofkeeping the estates for himself. Secondly, he was more convinced thanever that Will Jackson had played the traitor, and that it was throughhim the Parliament had been made aware of the Colonel's service to theKing's cause, whatever it might be. 

Dover was reached in safety, and the party embarked on board the_Adventure_ for Calais. It took them twenty hours to cross; and beforeten of them were over, Robin Featherstone would have been thankful to beset down on the most uninhabited island in the Pacific Ocean, with noprospect of ever seeing Paris or anything else, might he but have beensafe upon dry land. It was in a very limp, unstarched condition of mindand body that he landed on the Calais quay. Colonel Lane, an oldtraveller, and an excellent sailor, was rather disposed to make merry atpoor Robin's expense; for toothache and sea-sickness are maladies forwhich a man rarely meets with much sympathy. 

They slept the last night at Saint Denis, where the Colonel encounteredan old acquaintance, an English gentleman who was just starting forParis, and who assured the Colonel that he should communicate the newsof his approach to the King. 

"Truly, I am weary of horse-riding as I may well be, " said Mrs Jane, asshe mounted the next morning, to traverse the eight miles which liebetween Saint Denis and Paris. "Poor little Jenny Lavender! 'tis well Ibrought her not withal; she would have been dog-weary ere we had wonthus far. "

For this short distance Mrs Jane rode by herself, the Colonel mountinganother horse beside her. Featherstone followed, and a French youthcame last, conducting the baggage-horse. Rather more than half thedistance to the capital had been traversed, when a large cavalcade wasseen approaching. It consisted of a number of gentlemen on horseback, preceding one of the large cumbrous coaches then in common use, in whichsat two ladies and a little girl. The coach was drawn by six heavyFlanders mares, which went at so leisurely a pace that they could easilybe accompanied by a crowd of French sight-seers who ran before, behind, and all around them. 

As soon as the two parties came within sight of each other, one of thegentlemen who preceded the coach rode forward and met the travellers, pulling off his hat as he came up to them. Featherstone perceived thathe was Lord Wilmot. 

"How do you, Colonel Lane?" he said. "Mrs Jane, your most obedient! Ipray you be in readiness for the high honour which awaits you. HisMajesty comes himself to meet you, with the Princes his brothers, andthe Queen in her coach, desiring to do you as much honour, and give youas good a welcome as possible. "

"We are vastly beholden to their Majesties, " replied Colonel Lane, looking as pleased as he felt, which was very much: for the honour thuspaid to him was most unusual, and showed that the young King and hismother considered his service an important one. "Featherstone!" hecalled, looking back, "keep you close behind, or we may lose you. "

Featherstone tried hard to obey, but found the order difficult ofexecution. The crowd was only bent on seeing the meeting, and cared nota straw whether Featherstone were lost or not. He knew not a word ofFrench, and was aware that if he did lose his master, he would probablyhave no little trouble in finding him again. Moreover, he was verycurious to see the King--partly on Kate Lavender's principle, ofafterwards having it to talk about. Just at that awkward moment hishorse took to curvetting, and he had enough to do to manage him. He wasvaguely conscious that one of the riders, who sat on a fine black horse, had come forward beyond the rest, and was cordially shaking hands withMrs Jane and the Colonel. He heard this gentleman say, "Welcome, mylife, my fair preserver!" and dimly fancied that the voice was familiar. Then, having reduced his horse to decent behaviour, he lifted up hiseyes and saw--Will Jackson. 

Will Jackson, and none other, though now clad in very different garb!He it was who sat that black barb so royally; the King's plumed hat wasin his left hand, while the right held that of Mrs Jane. It was atWill Jackson's words of thanks that she was smiling with such delight;it was he before whom Colonel Lane bent bare-headed to his saddlebow. The awkward lout who had never been in a gentleman's service, theignorant clown, fresh from the plough-tail, the Roundhead, the traitor, had all vanished as if they had never been, and in their stead was KingCharles the Second, smilingly complimenting the friends to whose careand caution he owed his safety. If the earth would have opened andswallowed him up, Featherstone thought he would have been thankful. Buta worse ordeal was before him. As he sat on his now quiet horse, gazingopen-mouthed and open-eyed, the King saw him, and the old twinkle, whichFeatherstone knew, came into the dark eyes. 

"Ha! I see an old friend yonder, " said he comically. "I pray you, fetch my fellow-servant up to speak with me. "

Poor Featherstone was laid hold of, pulled off his horse, and pushedforward close to that of the King. 

"How do, Robin?" asked the merry monarch, who heartily enjoyed a littleaffair of this sort. "Nay, look not so scared, man--I am not about tocut off thine head. "

Featherstone contrived to mumble out something in which "forgive" wasthe only word audible. 

"Forgive thee! what for?" said King Charles. "For that thou knewest menot, and tookest me for a Roundhead? Why, man, it was just then thefinest service thou couldst have done me. I have nought to forgive theefor save a glass of the best ale ever I drank, that thou drewest for meat breakfast on the morrow of my departing. Here, some of you"--HisMajesty plunged both hands in turn into his pockets, and, as usual, found them empty. "What a plague is this money! Can none of you lendme a few louis?"

The pockets of the suite proved to be almost as bare as those of theKing. The Duke of Hamilton managed to find a half-louis (which he wellknew he should never see again); Queen Henrietta was applied to in hercoach, but in vain, as she either had no money, or did not choose toproduce it, well knowing her son's extravagance and thoughtlessness. Colonel Lane had a sovereign, which he furnished. The King held themout to Featherstone. 

"There!" he said, "keep somewhat for thyself, and give somewhat to thelittle dairy-maid that took my part, and would have had me knock theedown. Tell her she'll make a brave soldier for my Guards, when all themen are killed. Divide it as thou wilt. Nay, but I must have a tokenfor pretty Mrs Jenny. " His Majesty cast his eyes about, and they fellon his plumed hat. Without a minute's consideration he loosened thediamond buckle. "Give her that, " said he, "and tell her the Kingheartily agrees with her that Will Jackson's an ill-looking fellow. "

It was just like King Charles to give away a diamond buckle, whenneither he nor his suite had money to pay for necessaries. RobinFeatherstone stepped back into the crowd, where he was pretty wellhustled and pushed about before he regained his horse; but he managed tokeep fast hold of the money and the diamond clasp. He was rathertroubled what to do with them. The jewel had so pointedly been intendedfor Jenny, that he could scarcely help dealing rightly in that instance;but the division of the money was not so clear. A man who was just andgenerous would have given the sovereign to Fortune, and have kept thehalf-louis (worth about 8 shillings 6 pence) for himself; but Featherstone was not generous, and not particularly anxious to be just. Theportion to be appropriated to Fortune dwindled in his thoughts, until itreached half-a-crown, and there for very shame's sake it stayed. 

"And why not?" demanded Mr Featherstone of his conscience, when it madea feeble remonstrance. "Did not His Majesty say, `Divide it as thoulist'? Pray who am I, that I am not to obey His Majesty?"

Had His Majesty's order been a little less in accordance with his owninclinations, perhaps Mr Featherstone would not have found it soincumbent on him to obey it. It is astonishing how easy a virtuebecomes when it runs alongside a man's interest and choice. Featherstone had never learned self-denial; and that is a virtue nearlyas hard to exercise without practice as it would be to play a tune on amusical instrument which the player had never handled before. In thatwonderful allegory, the _Holy War_--which is less read than itscompanion, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, but deserves it quite as much--Bunyan represents Self-Denial as a plain citizen of Mansoul, of whomPrince Immanuel made first a captain, and then a lord. But he wouldnever have been selected for either honour, if he had not first done hisunobtrusive duty as a quiet citizen. Self-denial and self-control arenot commonly admired virtues just now. Yet he is a very poor man whohas not these most valuable possessions. 

Robin Featherstone stayed with the Colonel just as long as it suitedhimself, and until he had exhausted such pleasures as he could have inParis without knowing a word of the French language, which he was toolazy to learn. What a vast amount of good, not to speak of pleasure, men lose by laziness! When this point was reached, Featherstone toldthe Colonel that he wished to return to England; and Colonel Lane, who, happily for himself, was not lazy, set things in train, and procured forRobert a passage to England in the service of a gentleman who was goinghome. 

"I wonder how little Jenny's going on, " said our idle friend to himself, as he drew near Bentley. "I might do worse than take little Jenny. Ionly hope she hasn't taken up with that clod-hopper Fenton while I'vebeen away, for want of a better. I almost think I'll have her. DollyCampion's like to have more money, 'tis true; but it isn't so much more, and she's got an ugly temper with it. I shouldn't like a wife with atemper--I've a bit too much myself; and two fires make it rather hot ina house. (Mr Featherstone did not trouble himself to wonder how farJenny, or any other woman, might like a husband with a temper. ) Ay, Ithink I'll take Jenny--all things considered. I might look about me abit first, though. There's no hurry. "

CHAPTER SIX. 

WHEREIN JENNY MAKES HER LAST MISTAKE. 

"I marvel Tom and Jenny Lavender doesn't make it up, " said PersisFenton, as she laid the white cloth for supper on her little table. "Here's Jenny got a fine sensible young woman, with God's grace in herheart (more than ever I looked for), and Tom goes on living in thatcottage all by his self, and never so much as casts an eye towards her--and that fond of her as he'd used to be, afore, too! Tony, man, don'tyou think it's a bit queer?"

"I think, " said old Anthony, looking up from his big Bible, which he wasreading by the fireside, "I think, Persis, we'd best leave the Lord togovern His own world. He hasn't forgot that Tom's in it, I reckon, norJenny neither. "

"Well, no--but one'd like to help a bit, " said Persis, lifting off thepan to dish up her green pudding, which was made of suet andbread-crumbs, marigolds and spinach, eggs and spice. 

"Folks as thinks they're helping sometimes hinders, " replied Anthony, quietly taking off his great horn spectacles, and putting them away inthe case. 

"Tell you what, Tony, I hate to see anything wasted, " resumed Persis, after grace had been said. "If there's only an end of thread over, Ican't abear to cast it away; I wind it on an old bobbin, thinking it'llcome in some time. "

"The Lord never wastes nothing, wife, " was Anthony's answer. "See howHe grows plants in void places, and clothes the very ruins withgreenery. It's always safe to trust Him with a man's life. "

"Ay, " half assented Persis, "but it do seem a waste like of them youngthings' happiness. "

"Where didst thou ever read in the Word, Persis, as happiness was thefirst thing for a man to look to? The Lord's glory comes first, andthen usefulness to our fellows, a long way afore happiness. Bless theLord, He do make it happy work for man to seek His glory--and that'swhat Tom doth. I'll trust the Lord to see to his happiness. "

Just as the green puddings came out of the pan, Tom Fenton turned intothe lane leading up to his own home, having been engaged in delivering awork-table that he had made for the Vicar's wife. It was a beautifulday at the end of October, very warm for the time of year, and the sunwas near its setting. As Tom came to a turn in the lane, he saw a shortdistance before him, up a bye-road which led past Farmer Lavender'shouse, a solitary girlish figure, walking slowly, and now and thenstopping to gather something from the bank. A slight quickening of hissteps, and a turn into the bye-road, soon brought him up with thesolitary walker. 

"Good even, Jenny!"

"Good even, Tom!"

For some seconds they walked abreast without any further speech. ThenTom said--

"I've just been up to parson's. "

"Oh, have you?" replied Jenny, a little nervously. 

"Their Dorcas saith she's heard as Featherstone's back. "

"Is he so?" said Jenny, in a still more constrained tone. 

"Didn't like it in France, from what she heard. "

"Very like not, " murmured Jenny. 

"He's got a place with Mr Chadderton--the young gentleman who wasmarried of late, and who's coming to live at Bentley Hall; so you'relike to see a bit of him again. "

"I don't want to see him, " said Jenny suddenly. "I'd as lief he didn'tcome nigh me. "

"You was used to like him middling well wasn't you, Jenny?"

Before Jenny could answer, the very person of whom they were speakingappeared at a turn of the lane, coming towards them. 

"Mrs Jenny Lavender, as I live!" said he. "Now, this is luck! I wason my way to the farm--"

"With your back to it?" asked Tom. 

Mr Featherstone ignored both Tom and the question. 

"Mrs Jenny, since I had the delight of sunning myself in your faireyes, I have had the high honour of beholding His Most Gracious MajestyKing Charles, who was pleased to command me to deliver into your whitehands a jewel which His Majesty detached from his own hat. He--"

"Me!" exclaimed Jenny, in so astounded a tone as to remind Featherstonethat he was beginning his story at the wrong end. 

"Oh, of course you know not, " he said, a little put out, for his speechhad been carefully studied, though he had forgotten the peroration, "that His Majesty is Will Jackson. I mean, Will Jackson was HisMajesty. At least--"

"Are you quite sure you know what you do mean, Mr Featherstone?"demanded Tom. "Sounds as if you'd got a bit mixed up, like. Is it theKing you've seen, or is't Will Jackson?"

Tom rather suspected that Featherstone was not quite sober. But he was, though between annoyance and self-exaltation he was behaving ratheroddly. 

"Look here!" he said angrily, holding out the diamond clasp. "Was WillJackson like to give me such as this for Mrs Jenny? I tell you, HisMajesty the King gave it me with his own hand. "

Suddenly Tom's conscience spoke. "Are you acting like a Christian man, Tom Fenton?" it said. "Have you any right to work Featherstone up intoa passion, however foolish he may have been? Is that charitable? is itChrist-like?"

"Very good, Mr Featherstone, " said Tom quietly. 

"I ask your pardon, and I'll relieve you of my company. Good night--Good night, Jenny. "

Jenny could have cried with disappointment. She was afraid that Tom wasvexed with her, and wholly unwilling to be left to the society ofFeatherstone. As to the diamond buckle, she did not half believe thestory. Tom's action, however, had its effect upon Featherstone. 

"Don't you believe me, Mrs Jenny?" he said more gently. "I doubt I'vemade a mess of my story, but 'tis really true. Will Jackson was theKing himself in disguise, and he bade me bring that to you, and tell youthat he entirely agreed with you that Will was an ill-looking fellow. "

When Jenny really understood the truth, she was overwhelmed. Was itpossible that she had actually told King Charles to his face that sheconsidered him ugly? Of course she was pleased with the gift in itself, and with his kindly pardon of her impertinence. 

"But, eh dear!" she said, turning round the clasp, which flashed andglistened as it was moved, "such as this isn't fit for the likes of me!"

Farmer Lavender was exceedingly pleased to see the clasp and hear itsstory, and in his exultation gave Featherstone a general invitation to"turn in and see them whenever he'd a mind. "

"Why, Jenny!" cried Kate, "you'll have to hand that down to yourgrandchildren!"

Jenny only smiled faintly as she went upstairs. She liked the clasp, and she liked the gracious feeling which had sent it; but what reallyoccupied her more than either was a distressed fear that she hadoffended Tom Fenton. He never came to the farm now. The only hope shehad of seeing him lay in an accidental meeting. 

Sunday came, and Jenny dressed herself in the flowered tabby, tying hertippet this time with blue ribbons. When she came into the kitchenready to go to church, her sister's eyes scanned her rather curiously. "Why, Jenny, where's your clasp?"

"What clasp?" asked Jenny innocently. Her thoughts were elsewhere. 

"What clasp!" repeated Kate, with a burst of laughter. "Why, the claspKing Charles sent you, for sure. Have you got so many diamond claspsyou can't tell which it is?"

"Oh!--Why, Kate, I couldn't put it on. "

"What for no? If a King sent me a diamond, I'd put it on, you take myword for it!--ay, and where it'd show too. "

"I'd rather not, " said Jenny in a low voice. "Not for church, anyhow. "

"Going to save it for your wedding-day?" Jenny felt very littleinclined for jests; the rather since she was beginning to feel extremelydoubtful if she would ever have any wedding-day at all. She feltinstinctively that a jewel such as King Charles's clasp was not fit forher to wear. Tom would not like to see it, she well knew; he detestedanything which looked like ostentation. And, perhaps, Christ would notlike it too. Would it not interfere with the wearing of that otherornament of a meek and quiet spirit, with which He desired Hishandmaidens to adorn themselves? Jenny resolved that she would not puton the clasp. 

"No, Kate, I shouldn't like to wear it, " she said quietly. "I've got itput by safe, and you can see it whenever you have a mind: but it's bestthere. "

"Thou'rt right, my lass, " said old Mrs Lavender. 

"Well, I shouldn't like you to lose it, of course, " admitted Kate. 

Jenny fancied, and with a heavy heart, that Tom carefully avoidedspeaking to her in the churchyard. Old Anthony and Persis had a kindword for her, but though Tom went away in their company, carrying hisaunt's books, he never came up to speak with Jenny. It distressed herthe more because Kate said afterwards:

"Have you had words with Tom Fenton, Jenny? I asked him if he'd agrudge against you, that he never spoke. "

"What did he say?" asked Jenny quickly. 

"He didn't say neither yea nor nay, " answered Kate, laughing. 

The afternoon brought several young people, and there was, as usual, plenty of mirth and chatter. Jenny felt utterly out of tune for it, andslipped out of the back door into the lane. She went slowly up, feelingvery low-spirited, and wondering what God was going to do with her. When she came to the gate of the bean-field--the place where Tom hadovertaken her a few evenings before--she stopped, and resting her armsupon the gate, watched the sun sinking slowly to the west. Thinkingherself quite alone, she said aloud, sorrowfully--"Oh dear! I wonder ifI've never done anything but make mistakes all my life!"

"Ay, we made one the other night, didn't we?" said a voice behind her. 

Jenny kept her start to herself. 

"Yes, we did, Tom, " she replied soberly. 

"I've made a many afore now, " said Tom gravely. 

"Not so many as me, " answered Jenny, sorrowfully. 

"Tell me your biggest, Jenny, and you shall hear mine. "

"There's no doubt of that, Tom. The biggest mistake ever I made waswhen I fancied God's service was all gloom and dismalness. "

"Right you are, Jenny. That's about the biggest anybody can make. Butwhat was the second, now?"

"Oh look, Tom, those, lovely colours!" cried Jenny, suddenly seized witha fervent admiration for the sunset. "Them red streaks over the gold, and the purple away yonder--isn't it beautiful?"

"It is, indeed. But that second mistake, Jenny?"

"Nay, I was to hear your biggest, you know, " said Jenny slily. 

"Well, Jenny, the biggest mistake ever I made, next after that biggestof all that you spoke of just now--was to fancy that I could forgetJenny Lavender, my old love. "

Two hours afterwards, the door of old Anthony's cottage opened about aninch. 

"Uncle Anthony, are you there?"

"Ay, lad. Come in, Tom. "

"Don't want to come in. I only want to tell you that the Lord's givenme back the greatest thing I ever gave up for Him. "

Old Anthony understood in a moment. 

"Ay so, Tom? I'm fain for thee. And thou'lt be glad all thy life long, my lad, that thou waited for the Lord to give it thee, and didn't snatchit like out of His hand. We're oft like children, that willn't waittill the fruit be ripe, but makes theirselves ill by eating it green. And when folks does that, there's no great pleasure in the eating, and adeal of pain at after. "

"That's true. Well, good night, Uncle Anthony. I thought I'd just letyou know. "

"I'm right glad to know it, my dear lad. Good night, and God blessthee!"

It was not for nine years that the Lanes came back to Bentley Hall. Their lives would have been in danger had they done so at an earlierdate. They came back with King Charles--when Oliver Cromwell was dead, and his son Richard had shown himself unfit to govern, and a season ofgeneral tumult and uncertainty had brought England into readiness toaccept any firm hand upon the helm, and an inclination to look longinglyto the son of her ancient Kings, as the one above all others given byGod to govern her. But she had made the terrible mistake of firstdriving him away into lands where he found little morality and lessreligion, and it was to her woeful hurt that he came back. 

It was on a beautiful June evening that the Lanes returned to Bentley:and the old master of the Hall only came back to die. Colonel Lane waslooking much older, and his mother was now an infirm old woman. MrsJane, a blooming matron of thirty, came with her husband, Sir ClementFisher, of Packington Hall, Warwickshire, a great friend of her brother, and like him an exile for the King. 

Charles did not forget the service done him by the Lanes, nor leave itunrewarded, as he did that of some of his best friends. He settled onLady Fisher an annuity of a thousand pounds, with half that sum to herbrother; and he presented Colonel Lane with his portrait, and a handsomewatch (a valuable article at that time), which he desired might descendin the family, being enjoyed for life by each eldest daughter of theowner of Bentley Hall. They are still preserved by the Lane family. 

A few days after the Lanes returned, Jenny Fenton stood washing andsinging in the back yard of the cottage. Tom's work-shed ran along oneside of it, and there he was carefully fitting the back of a chair toits seat, while a younger Tom, and a still more youthful Joe, were asdiligently building a magnificent sailing-vessel in the corner. A womanof middle age came up to the door, lifted her hand as if to knock, stepped back, and seemed uncertain how to act. A child of six yearsold, at that moment, ran round the cottage, and looked up in surprise atthe stranger standing before the door. 

"Little maid, what is thy name?" said the stranger. 

A little doubtful whether the stranger, who in her eyes was a very grandlady, was about to hear her say her catechism, the small child put herhands meekly together, and said--

"Molly, please. "

"Molly what?" pursued the stranger, with a smile. 

"Molly Fenton, please. "

"That will do. Where's mother?"

"Please, she's a-washing at the back. "

"Is that she that singeth?"

"Yes, that's her, " returned Molly, carefully avoiding grammar. 

The song came floating to them through the balmy June air. 

 "`O God, my strength, and fortitude, Of force I must love Thee! Thou art my castle and defence In my necessity. '"

The strange lady sighed, much to Molly's perplexity; then she rapped atthe door. It was opened by Jenny, who stood with an inquiring look onher face, which asked the visitor plainly to say who she was. 

"You don't know me, then, Jenny Lavender?"

"No, Ma-- Dear heart! is it Mrs Millicent?"

"It is Millicent Danbury, Jenny. And I am Millicent Danbury still, though you are Jenny Fenton. "

"Pray you, come within, Mrs Millicent, " said Jenny cordially. "I'mright glad to see you. There's been a many changes since we met--Molly, dust that chair, quick, and bring it up for the gentlewoman. "

"Ay, " said Millicent, with another sigh, as she sat down in the heavyWindsor chair which it required all Molly's strength to set for her;"there are many changes, Jenny, very many, since you and I livedtogether at Bentley Hall. "

"Not for the worser, are they?" replied Jenny cheerfully. 

"Ah! I'm not so sure of that, Jenny, " answered Millicent. 

"Well, I'm nowise afeard of changes, " said Jenny, in the same brighttone. "The Lord means His people good by all the changes He sends. Mrs Millicent, won't you tarry a while and sup your four-hours withus?"

The meal which our ancestors called "four-hours" answered to our tea;but tea had not yet been introduced into England, though it was verysoon to be so. They drank, therefore, either milk, or weak home-brewedale. 

"With all my heart, " was the reply, "if I'm not in your way, Jenny. Youare washing, I see. "

"I've done for to-day, and Tom and me'll be as pleased as can be ifyou'll take a bit with us, Mrs Millicent. Molly, child, fetch forththe table-cloth, and get the salt-cellar, and then run and tellfather. --She's a handy little maid for her years, " added Jenny, withmotherly pride. 

Millicent smiled rather sadly. "You are a happy woman, Jenny!" shesaid. 

"Bless the Lord, so I am!" echoed Jenny. "It's the Lord's blessingmakes folks happy. "

"Say you so?--then maybe that is why I am not, " said Millicent, ratherbitterly. "I don't know much of the Lord. "

"That's a trouble can be mended, " said Jenny softly; "and you'll be mainglad when it is, take my word for it. "

"I don't know how to set about it, Jenny. "

"Why, dear heart! how do you set about knowing anybody? Go and see 'em, don't you, and talk with 'em, and get 'em to do things for you? Thegood Lord always keeps His door open, and turns away none as come. "

At that moment Tom came in, with a hearty welcome to his guest. Jenny, helped by Molly, bustled about, setting the table, and cutting bread andbutter, while Tom drew the ale; and they had just sat down when a littlerap came on the door. 

"Anybody at home here?" asked a bright voice. Jenny knew it at once. 

"O Mrs Jane!--I crave pardon, my Lady!--pray you come in, and do us thehonour to sit down in our house. "

"I'll do you more honour than that, " said Lady Fisher comically, as shecame forward. "I'll eat that bread and butter, if you'll give it me, for I have been a great way afoot, and I am as hungry as a hunter. "

"I pray you take a chair, madam, and do us so much pleasure, " saidsmiling Jenny. "I have here in the oven a cake but just ready to comeforth, made the Princess Elizabeth's way, His Majesty's sister, and Ishall be proud if your ladyship will taste it. "

"I'll taste it vastly, if I get the chance, " said Lady Fisher, laughing, as Jenny took her cake out of the oven. 

The Princess Elizabeth was that young gentle girl who had died aprisoner at Carisbrooke Castle, a few years after her father's murder, her cheek resting on the little Bible which had been his last gift. Hercake was a rich plum-cake, made with cream, eggs, and butter. 

"Did you get your other honour, Jenny?" asked Lady Fisher, as she helpedherself to the cake. 

"Madam?" asked Jenny, in some doubt. 

"Why, the jewel His Majesty sent you. I was something inclined to doubtFeatherstone might forget it. "

"Oh yes, madam, I thank you for asking, I have it quite safe. It was avast surprise to me, and most kind and gracious of His Majesty. "

"Well, now I think it was very ungracious in His Majesty, " said LadyFisher, laughing. "I am sure he ought to have sent it to Millicenthere, who reckoned him a Roundhead and an assassin to boot, if he meantto show how forgiving he could be to his enemies. "

"Oh!" cried Millicent, clasping her hands, "shall I ever forget how thedear King took me by the hand? To think of having touched the hand ofHis Sacred Majesty--"

"Hold, Millicent! that's a new story, " said Lady Fisher. "Last time Iheard you tell it, that horrid creature, Will Jackson, only offered totake you by the hand. Has he got it done by now?"

Millicent looked slightly confused, but speedily recovered herself. 

"O madam, I think he touched me. I do think I had the honour oftouching His Gracious Majesty's little finger, I really do!"

"Really do, by all means, if it makes you happier; _I've_ no objection. Jenny, I shall eat up all your cake. It is fit to be set before theQueen. Millicent, I wonder you can find in your heart to wash yourhands. "

"Oh, but I _had_ washed them, madam, before I knew, " answered Millicentregretfully. 

"Well, I hope you had, " answered Lady Fisher, "seeing there lay nineyears betwixt. Heigh ho! time runs away, and we with it. Seems pity, doesn't it!"

"Depends on where we're running to, " replied Tom, who had enteredunseen. "Children that's running home, when they know their father'sgot a fine present for them, isn't commonly feared of getting there toosoon. "

"But how if folks don't know, Tom?" suggested Jenny, and Millicent'seyes reflected her query. 

"My dear, " answered Tom humbly, "it's not for the likes of me to speakafore such as her Ladyship. But I know what my dear old Uncle Anthonywas wont to say: `The only way to be certain you're on the way Home isto make sure that you are going to your Father; and to do that you mustgo with Him. ' And I doubt if he'd speak different, now that he's gotHome. "

"Ay, I suppose we would all like to have God go with us, " said LadyFisher gravely. 

"Madam, saving your presence, Uncle was used to say there's a many wouldlike vastly well to have God go with them, that isn't half so ready toget up and go with God. David spake well when he said, `Make _Thy_ wayplain before my face. ' The Lord's way is the sure and safe way, and'tis the only one that leads Home. "

"I think, Jenny, you _are_ a happy woman, " said Lady Fisher, an hourlater, as she took her leave. Tom had gone back to his work-shed. "Good night; God be with you. "

"I am that, Madam, the Lord be praised, " answered Jenny. "But the Lordis to be praised for it, for I've done nought all my life but makemistakes, until He took hold of me and put me right. "

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Note: That part of the story which relates to King Charles and the Lanefamily is quite true, with the exception of a few small details. Authorities differ as to whether the King and Mrs Jane rode to TrentHouse alone, or accompanied by the persons mentioned. Lord Wilmotfollowed them the whole time, at a safe distance.