Chapter 12

HOW WE SAILED FOR FRANCE IN THE 'MARIE-ROYALE.'

We found our friends where we had left them; the grey dawn glimmering in at the window showed us Andrew lying in a quiet slumber; and he looked nothing so death-like as the night before. But the others appeared haggard and weary, as well they might; for none of them had slept a wink the night through. Yet joy spoke from the poor wan faces of Mary Giles and her husband. They had helped in the tending of Andrew with wonderful skill and care, and now they were rejoicing in a good hope that he would yet recover.

There was a meal spread, of which they had already partaken; and we were now bidden to sit and eat also, as quickly as we might. It was Harry who gave us these orders, with a stern anxious look, which daunted me a little. When we had eaten,--

'Now leave us with our friend, ladies,' he said, 'and gather all together in readiness to depart; this house shall not hold us another hour;' and Althea hesitating, and saying Andrew was hardly in case to depart, 'That knave gaoler,' he said, 'who had hid Andrew from you so long, had strong reasons for doing it; is there no fear, think you, that he may suspect there was life in the dead man whom we removed? Would you have our practice detected and the prisoner seized again?'

It did not need more to set wings to Althea's feet; so we made haste and gathered up all our belongings, and came down again with our bundles packed and our travelling suits donned, long ere the hour was passed.

Yet for all our haste, we found they had made better speed than we. There stood a coach waiting, into which they had already lifted Andrew; he was muffled in a long cloak that I had flung off the night before. The two Gileses had him in their care, and Will was again acting as driver (I believe 'twas the very coach of the previous night); he was taking Harry's orders as to driving at a very soft pace to the nearest stairs, 'where,' said Harry, 'we will meet you; these ladies will walk with me.'

We saw them drive off; then I made fast the outer door, and Harry took the key from me, and flung it over the wall into the garden.

'Let any find it who list,' said he. 'I thank God we are quit of the hideous place. How you have endured to dwell there day and night passes my comprehension.'

'Why,' said I, 'is it not a glorious rich house?'

'A house of sin and pride and death,' said he, 'I grant you.'

'You are of Will's mind,' says Althea; 'he never would eat or sleep in it.'

'If that be Will's mind,' said he, 'I approve his wisdom. And now, hey for Father Thames and his silver streams, and the sweet salt air of the sea! Here, take my arm, fair lady,' he said to Althea as we went along; 'I have my doubts of your obedience--Lucy I can trust to come with me of free will.' So she took his arm, and said, smiling faintly,--

'At least indulge me so far as to tell us whither we are bound?'

'You heard me say,' he answered, stepping on briskly, 'to the nearest stairs; I have a boat ready there, and we will slip down the river to a ship I wot of that lies near Woolwich. I own,' he went on, 'it's a mighty risk to run, with Andrew in such a feeble case; yet I see no better way.' And in hasty words he told us how poor was our chance of getting clear away from the plague-stricken city by land.

'London is something of a mouse-trap now,' said he, 'or a lion's den, if you like a statelier image; the way in is easy enough, but the way out is more difficult than the steep and thorny path to heaven. Every town and village we should come to would rise against us with hue and cry, and drive us back to the city, to perish there; so cruel are men become through fear of the contagion.'

Althea's pale cheek grew paler as she listened; and she said, 'Alas, my Lucy! into what a snare have I brought you! and all through pride and self-will.'

'Nay, sweet sister,' said I, 'do not miscall your compassion, and the daring of your spirit, which led you here.'

'There was pride and wilfulness in it too,' said she; 'and look what a rebuke Heaven gives me! it is not I that rescue Andrew; it is Harry and poor Giles.'

'Tut, tut!' said Harry; 'do not abuse yourself overmuch. You had found Andrew long since, but for the evil mind of Ralph Lacy, who had bought yon keeper with a mighty bribe, and commanded that Andrew should be kept out of sight, if ever you made inquiry after him.'

This piece of intelligence struck us silent till we got to the stairs, going down which we found a roomy boat awaiting us, in which were already the rest of our little company, except Will; and he appearing before we were well settled in our places, sprang in after us, and said joyfully, as he took an oar,--

'That coachman had fain learnt from me who it was I had carried down to the river; but I can be deaf upon occasion;' from which I gathered that he had been commissioned to restore the coach to its owner.

The sun came up as we began to glide down the stream, and a million little sparkling waves flashed back his reflection as we rowed on; which was the only cheerful part of the scene, I thought; for all our company were grave and silent, and Andrew, though the calmest of us, looked so like death that I could find no pleasure in his peaceful aspect.

And the river itself, which I had formerly seen so gay with all kinds of craft, watermen plying up and down constantly, and great sea-going ships coming and going, and lesser vessels crowding the noble stream, now seemed as desolate as the town that lay on its banks; only as we went on we came to many ships lying at anchor, by two and two; sometimes two or three lines of these ships lay in the breadth of the river, and as we threaded our way between them, men, women, and children came and looked over the sides at us.

I was glad to break the silence that had settled on us, and I asked what was the reason of these long rows of ships being thus moored idly near the shores? on which the good Mary Giles, who had again the office of supporting Andrew, speaking softly, told me how they were the refuge of many hundreds of families, fled out of London, who hoped in this way to escape the contagion.

'I do not know,' she said however, 'that they do always escape as they hope. Many a device did I practise myself to keep myself whole and sound, and some mighty foolish ones; but it pleased the Lord to drive me from all those refuges of lies, and to show me that He only can kill and make alive. To my thinking, a fearless, believing heart is the best charm against the Plague.'

'Ay,' says Harry; 'that is the best charm doubtless. But we shall find it not amiss to keep our dwellings cleaner and sweeter here in England; with faith and courage and cleanliness, we might defy the foul fiend Pestilence. You shall not find that it makes so great ravages, even among the Dutch.' With that he bit his lip, as though a secret had escaped him; however no one but myself noted him; and the others now began to talk more freely; and Mrs. Giles from time to time bestirred herself about nourishment for Andrew, which Harry had been careful to provide; he said a man so nigh dead of hunger must have food often, but in small quantities. So our party grew cheerfuller, ever as the stream grew broader, and we began to breathe the salt breeze that blew inland.

We ventured to question Harry about the ship that would receive us; and he said she was a French merchant-ship, and the captain a great friend of his, a good Protestant, who was willing to take on board any company he should bring.

'I hoped,' said I, 'it might have been the _Good Hope_.'

'Alas for my poor _Good Hope_!' said he; 'she went to pieces in a mighty storm, on the hard-hearted coasts of Africa; and such of my brave fellows as were not drowned were seized for slaves by the barbarous people of Algiers.'

'And you, Harry, what was your lot?' I cried.

'The lot of a slave for many a day,' said he briefly. 'It is thanks to my good friend Captain Maret, who will soon receive us, that I have ever seen my country again.'

I would gladly have asked more, but I saw he was little inclined to talk; and after he had said, 'The ship we are going to board is called the _Marie-Royale_,' he fell again into a silence; but the rest of us continued to keep up some sort of talk, till we got down by Woolwich; and this seemed to help our courage a little,--I mean Althea's and mine, especially when Andrew would say a few words, as he began to do, in a way that showed reviving strength.

Now I had never gone by sea anywhere, and all my sailing had been in wherries on the Thames; so I was not free from some childish fear when we came beside the _Marie-Royale_, and saw her black sides rising high and steep above us; but joy sat on every other face in our little company; and Harry's voice was gay once more as he shouted an answer to Captain Maret, who came and hailed us from above. 'Twas a matter of some difficulty to get Andrew safely hoisted on deck; yet they did it without giving too rude a shock to his enfeebled frame. I confess, when it came to my turn to mount, I shut my eyes for fear, and never opened them till I found Harry's arm about me, and a firm footing under me; and I heard his voice merrily mocking me for a poor little fool, who was ready to swoon at fancied perils, and was reckless of real ones. So then I looked abroad again, and seeing myself encircled with all our company, who were smiling at my terrors, while the dark, kindly face of the captain beamed a welcome on me,--I laughed first, and then wept; and then clasping my hands began to thank and praise God for our good deliverance, as if I were in an ecstasy; but now no one laughed at me, but heads were uncovered, and eyes cast down in thankful prayer also, all around me; the French sailors who had helped us to come aboard showing themselves not less reverent than our handful of English, and indeed appearing to be much moved. Then Andrew, who stood supported by the arms of Ned and Mary Giles, looked smiling at me, and said, in his feeble voice,--

'Thou shamest me much, my sister Lucy; I who was deepest in peril ought to have been foremost in praise;' and Harry replied bluntly,--

'Till you know something of the dangers these ladies have run, you need not be more grateful than they; but your further thanks must be rendered in your cabin, where I long to have you lodged before we get under weigh.'

'That shall be soon,' said the captain. 'We have but stayed for your coming; and see! the wind has shifted since we sighted you, and blows fair for our departing.'

He moved away as he spoke and began giving his orders; while Harry marshalled us down to our cabins, saying gaily, 'Ay, the merry wind blows from the land now; 'twas against us as we rowed, and I had my fears; but all's well that ends well--the Lord be praised therefor!'

'Tell us whither this kind wind is to blow us?' I asked, and he saying, 'So it is not enough for you to be with me where I go?' I answered boldly, 'By no means;' on which, laughing, he said, 'I will talk with you soon, sweetheart, on that point and many others; but now let us look to Andrew.' So I and my curiosity had to wait awhile; for when Andrew and his faithful nurses were settled below, Harry went on deck; and I sat by Althea, something sick at heart for all my joy, while, with many strange noises of rattling and creaking and trampling overhead, our ship shook out her great wings and spread them for flight. But at last the water slipping past our cabin windows showed we were standing out to sea; and then came Harry and sat down beside us. Andrew had fallen asleep, and Giles and his wife sat watching him a little way off; so there was nothing to break in on Harry's story.

'Now first of all, my Lucy,' said he, 'you must know whither we are bound; 'tis to Calais, for there is Captain Maret due, and over-due, having come to Woolwich only for my sake, and yours, as it hath proved. Then at Calais I have intelligence that we shall find a ship bound for Hull, by which we may go thither, and so home to our father in the Dales.'

'Do you know,' I said, 'I suspected your design to be for Holland?'

'Well,' said he, 'I had such a thought for Andrew. There be friends in that country, with whom he might be sheltered till England should be safe for him once more. But it dislikes me to have dealings with any country at war with mine own--mad and wicked though the war be on our part.'

'All England is gone mad and wicked, I think,' said Althea; 'for my share I care not much if I never see it more.'

'You will change that thought, I hope,' said he. 'But now, my Lucy, I have a request and a petition to you. Captain Maret will bring us at Calais to a clergyman of the English Church whom he knows there; will you consent for the good man to join our hands? 'tis long since our hearts were knit, I trow.'

'What are you asking of her?' said Althea; 'should not such a marriage be celebrated on English ground?'

'So it shall,' said he; 'for we will be wedded on board the ship that shall take us to Hull; and her planks, being those of an English vessel, are reckoned English ground. Now, what says my dear heart?' and as I blushed and stammered, 'I warrant you,' said he, 'Lucy is struck dumb at my presumption in talking of wedlock, my good ship being gone to wreck, and I myself newly loosed from slavery.'

'Harry!' I cried, 'how dare you think so meanly of me? I who have been delighting in the thought of pouring all my little wealth at your feet, and bidding you freight a new ship with it; but perhaps you are too proud--you will refuse it?'

'Nay, I refuse neither it nor thee, my Lucy,' he said, 'the less because I can counterpoise my darling's little purse with something weightier.' And he told us briefly how in his captivity he had risen very high in his Moorish master's favour, having had the good fortune to save the man's life at the risk of his own.

'There were two rascals set on my master to murder him, for certain precious jewels that he wore,' said he; 'and I had the luck to lay them both low, though I got this little remembrance first from the fiercest of them,' touching as he spoke the scar upon his cheek. 'And with that stroke,' he went on, 'I purchased my freedom, and something more; for the Moor conferred on me freely those gems that the thieves had coveted; they are worth a little fortune. After this my only care was to find a ship to bring me home; of which I was almost in despair, when the good Maret came to my rescue, which he effected with great skill and boldness. Nor do I know how I could have got you clear of London, but for his readiness to help me once again.'

This was Harry's history, which he made very dry and short; for he hates to dwell on his own doings or sufferings. I have got from him since many particulars of the story, and I think it were more worthy of pen and ink than this poor tale of our homely joys and sorrows, but he thinks not so; and it is at his bidding I have written all this last part, telling how he brought us safely out of London.

CONCLUSION.

HOW LUCIA DWELLS IN ENGLAND, AND ALTHEA OTHERWHERE.

There is little more to write now. I did not care to cross Harry's wish in the matter of our wedding, to which both the good Mary Giles and Althea herself urged me to consent; only I had always hoped that my father Truelocke himself should join our hands; and when I whispered this to Harry, he said, 'If you cannot be content without it, sweetheart, my father shall marry us over again when we get to Dent-dale. But I will not go back to England till I can call you wife.'

So my last defence fell; and wedded we were on board the _Diamond_, a good English ship that we found lying at Calais, according to Harry's intelligence. I did not forget that promise of his, and in due time I held him to it; but before I wind up mine own story I will relate that of my sister; for our lives, that have run so long in one channel, are divided now, since Althea sailed not with us to England; and I will show the reason presently.

That imagination which Harry had once entertained of Andrew's passing into Holland and being safe there as an exile proved to be no impossible device, in spite of the war between the English and the Dutch. For while we still lay at Calais in the _Marie-Royale_ (I must ever admire her captain's courage in taking us poor fugitives on board, even though Harry was warrant for our soundness), there came letters from certain Friends called Derricks, of the Dutch nation. They had heard of Andrew's strange escape from prison, I wot not by what means; for the Friends have their own ways of learning news of one another. These good people willed him to go make his home under their roof in Amsterdam; and he was very fain to seek that shelter, being exceedingly weary in spirit, as one half spent with toil and grief; only two things held him back. The one was his love for our dear and cruel country England, which made him shrink from dwelling in a land at enmity with her; and the other was my sister. Now the first scruple Harry overcame thus.

'You needs must dwell in some foreign land,' he said, 'for England is altogether unsafe for you. Should you choose France, as Captain Maret would have you, you choose a land chiefly Papist, and now full of oppression; and my life on it, there will be war between France and England this very winter,' a saying which proved too true. 'So the balance must dip in favour of Holland, a Protestant country, where you shall live under just laws and among faithful friends who believe as you do. Is not this worth weighing, brother?' and Andrew said, 'It is,' but yet he hesitated; and I needed not the sight of his questioning look at Althea, nor of her dropt eyelids and whitening cheek, to guess the reason of his hesitation.

The next morning after we had this talk, Harry, Althea, and I were sat idly on deck, basking in the sunshine, and drinking the sweet air, while we watched the sailors at work; when we saw Andrew come feebly towards us, at which we sprang up surprised, for he had not heretofore risen so early, because of his great weakness. Althea would have had him rest on the cushions from which we had risen, but saying, 'I would rather stand awhile,' he leaned on Harry's shoulder for support; and indeed he looked deathly when his white and wasted face was seen beside Harry's countenance, all bronzed with sun and wind, and glowing with health and life.

'Althea Dacre,' he said, looking steadily at her, 'I have sought all night long for a light on the path I must now take; and a word is ever in my ears, "Speak to the maiden thou lovest, her word shall lead thee!" Thou knowest I were loth to part from thee, who hast sought me and spent thyself for me--and more loth to think that we are parted in spirit. Yet if thy heart be not as my heart towards God, we must be parted now and ever. I implore thee, speak the perfect truth to me, and do not colour or change it.'

'And I will speak truth,' she said proudly, 'as if I stood before an angel of God; and it shall not grieve you. Andrew Golding, thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The Church that I dreamed of, the Church I would have died for, was not a Church stained with innocent blood. I will cast in my lot, now and for ever, with the only Christian people that have never persecuted another--the only one, I verily believe, that follow whithersoever the Master leads.'

At this Andrew's pallid face glowed as if a clear flame shone through it; he stretched out his hands to Althea, and she gave him both hers, continuing to say,--

'And what is my native land to me? it is filled with violence and madness; I fear 'tis accursed of God; I am willing to find my fatherland wherever you find a home.'

She turned with a defying look towards us; at which Harry began to laugh, and said, 'How about the rose I had one night from Mistress Althea Dacre? it is a rose yet--dry and faded truly; but it has not turned into a nettle.'

'Be generous,' she said, blushing; 'do not remind me of that; I spoke of it in the days of my folly. I have been taught the plague of my own heart since, by many a sharp lesson.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'I may truly say the same of myself. It hath pleased God,' he said reverently, 'to bring me to Himself through suffering. I trusted overmuch to my own heart; and not till I was stript of all, a beggar and a slave, did I learn mine own vileness and weakness, and Christ's all-sufficiency. I thank Him for the teaching. And I think my Lucy hath gone through the same school; is it not so, sweetheart?' and I murmured an assent.

'Not one of you,' said Andrew, 'has been so poor a pupil at that learning as I; but I think my many stripes have surely beaten it into my hard heart at last, and that I have mastered my task once and for ever.'

'Then,' quoth Harry, 'we are all on one footing so far, and we may thank Heaven for it. But I cannot fall in with you in your condemning of other Churches, and the Church of England chiefly. She is not disowned of God, not quite gone astray from Him; there is in her, I must think, a seed of life and holiness.'

'Your father went out from her notwithstanding,' says Althea; 'and in my mind he did well, though I was fool enough to condemn him at the time.'

'With your leave,' says Harry, 'I think he was driven out, because of those nice and subtle points of doctrine, that our rulers cruelly enforced, and he could not honestly assent to. But I have heard him say, 'tis his firm persuasion that out of this misgoverned English Church there shall yet rise great good, and marvellous blessings, to the land and the world. And in that hope I shall cleave to it with all its faults; and so I trust will my wife;' to which I had nothing to say but blushing. Andrew, however, was troubled.

'I fear thou art in perilous error, kind and good Harry,' said he. 'But let every one be fully persuaded in his own mind.'

'That am I,' said Althea promptly, on which he smiled again; and the two falling into talk about their own concerns, we charitably left them to it; for now it was well understood among us that they would wed at the earliest opportunity.

It was a pretty sight to see the new humility they practised towards each other. Andrew, being now fully acquainted with my sister's efforts on his behalf, seemed to look on her as a protecting angel; but she, regarding him as a saint and a martyr, knew not how to show enough reverence to him. Also her high courage failed her sometimes, and she would cling to the good Mary Giles like a timid child to its mother; Mary on her part showing the same tenderness for her that her husband displayed to Andrew. These good people, with Will, kept them company when they departed for Amsterdam, which thing was a marvellous comfort to Harry and me; and shortly we had news how the lovers were married, after the Quaker fashion, and were in a happy way to be settled in that city. They dwell there still. The good honest Standfasts have power from Andrew to manage his lands for him, which they do faithfully; and the moneys due to him therefrom being privily conveyed to him, maintain him and his wife in comfort, nor them alone, but many poor and pious souls who are their pensioners.

And now, our companions being gone, it might have been thought that I should feel a great lack of them, especially when the _Diamond_ loosed from port and bore us away with her. But I could feel nothing save joy and gratitude, more especially when I thought of the heavy and dreadful summer that lay behind me; and I was possessed with a great longing to see my father Truelocke once more. Harry had got word conveyed to him of his safety, and of our approaching journey; and sure I am his thoughts flew to meet our thoughts on the way, as we drew nearer and nearer. But I want words to express the tenderness of our meeting together, when at last my Harry and I beheld that venerable face again. There are some joys that cannot be told.

We have made our home with him in Dent-dale; for there Harry hath bought a little farm, with a pretty odd farmhouse belonging thereto; and our father lives with us, well content, and in great peace. For no squabblings about ecclesiastical matters ever trouble the quiet of our sweet mountain solitude. There is a little lonely church in the Dale, where a good simple-hearted pastor ministers; and there can we worship in a homely and hearty fashion; nor does the pastor take it ill that Mr. Truelocke keeps aloof from the prayers, but respects his scruples, and reveres his character. For proof thereof, I did not cease urging on Harry his careless promise, that our union should have our father's blessing on it; and the good pastor falling in with my whim, prevailed on Mr. Truelocke to remarry us very privately in the little church I spoke of, he himself assisting. 'Twas a foolish fancy, I wot, but I was not easy till I had it gratified. And it is now my constant hope that Harry will never put to sea again, but will be content to plough the kindly earth and gather in her fruits, instead of furrowing the barren cruel waves; sure he has had enough of strange adventures. Yet I fear him sometimes, when little work is stirring; then he is so restless that even in his dreams he will talk of seafaring; I think, however, he will wander no more, so long as our father lives.

We get letters from Althea and her husband, at rare intervals indeed; but then they are long and ample. And it is a marvel how stiffly Althea now stands for all the points of the Quaker doctrine, which formerly she so abhorred and contemned.

Not many days since there reached me a long letter from her, in which she told me indeed a great deal of news, and also expressed a wonderful sisterly affection; but the burden of it was her disquietude because of my religious errors. She was very earnest with me upon the sin and danger of conforming to the world, in dress, and speech, and deportment.

There were things in this letter which really troubled me, so I carried it to Mr. Truelocke; and when he had read it, I asked his opinion, whether Christian folk were bound to observe such strictness as Althea now advocates and practises? at which, softly smiling, he said,--

'"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." I think thou art not far from exemplifying that pure religion in thine own life, daughter; so I trust does thy sister; but I think her not more free from world-spots than thee, because she perchance goes clad in grey, and thou in scarlet;' for I had a new red cloak and hood upon me. 'This,' he said, touching the cloak lightly, 'is no stain of scarlet sin, 'tis honest dye-stuff, Lucy.'

'It might make me vain and proud to go gaily, might it not?' I said.

'When it has that effect, child, renounce it as a snare,' he replied. 'I think thou art not over gay as yet, for a young wife, with a true-love husband to please.'

'But besides these things,' I said, 'there are others more serious. See how my sister cries out against all set forms of worship, even to the singing of hymns; and how she accounts even the outward visible forms of the two great sacraments as having something of the nature of an idol that we sinfully adore. All should be spiritual and inward, according to her, and to other Friends; and I do not myself understand how that can be.'

''Tis a great truth that they uphold,' said he musingly, 'yet I cannot see that it includes all truth. For my own share, I still hold fast to my opinions; they commend themselves to my reason as strongly as ever. I should lie, did I deny them. And yet from my very heart I agree with the Friends in prizing the spirit above the letter. And I hope, my daughter,' he went on, while a smile trembled on his lips, 'that a day will yet dawn when all Christian men shall agree so heartily as touching the deep and vital truths of their faith, that they may be content to differ as to the visible ceremonial garment that their faith may wear. But that will not be in my day, Lucy, nor, I fear much, in thine. Let us hope and pray for its coming; and let us rejoice meanwhile and give thanks for our safety here from the strife of tongues, for the peace and rest we are allowed to share in this corner of the earth; so far are we happy above many.'

And I am only too glad to obey his word, and to fare like a bird of the air that is fed by God's daily bounty, without care for the morrow. Nor will I trouble myself any more about this nice point of doctrine and that, laying on myself a burden that God never gave me. Has He not given me His own peace; and with it more of earthly bliss than ever my heart dared hope for? And were I even less happy in my lot, I ought all my life to praise Him for His hand over us for good, while we dwelt in that City of the Plague. I have heard with infinite satisfaction, how, since this cold winter weather came on, the sickness is mightily abated, and men hope it is passing away. But it hath swept off, say they, not less than a hundred thousand souls in one fatal year; and what were we, that we should escape? It is all of the Lord's goodness, and His pity to our rashness.