All's Well

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  REPENTANCE.

  "Sil-van-us Par-due!" Five very distinct syllables from his mothergreeted the speech wherein Master Silas expressed his appreciation ofthe action of Mrs Tabitha Hall. "Silas, I would you were as 'shamed ofyourself as I am of you."

  "Well, Mother," responded Silas, with a twinkle in a pair of shiningbrown eyes, "if you'll run up yonder ladder and take half a look atEsdras, you'll not feel nigh so 'shamed of me at after!"

  This skilful diversion of the attack from himself to his brother--a featwherein every son of Adam is as clever as his forefather--effected theend which Master Silvanus had proposed to himself.

  "Dear heart alive!" cried Mrs Pardue, in a flutter, "has that lad torehis self all o' pieces?"

  "There isn't many pieces left of him," calmly observed Silas.

  Mrs Pardue disappeared up the ladder, from which region presently camethe sound of castigation, with its attendant howls from the sufferer,while Silas, having provided himself with a satisfactory cinder,proceeded, in defiance of Penuel's entreaties, to sketch a rather cleverstudy of Mrs Tabitha Hall in the middle of his mother's newly washedtable-cloth.

  "Eh, Pen, you'll never do no good wi' no lads!" lamented MrsBradbridge, rising to depart. "Nought never does lads a bit o' goodsave thrashing 'em. I'm truly thankful mine's both maids. They're asight o' trouble, lads be. Good even."

  As Mistress Bradbridge went out, Mr Pardue was stepping in.

  "Silas, let be!" said his father quietly; and Silas made a face, butpocketed the cinder for future use. "Pen, where's Mother?"

  Mrs Pardue answered for herself by coming down the ladder.

  "There! I've given it Esdras: now, Silas, 'tis thy turn."

  No pussy cat could have worn an aspect of more exquisite meekness thanMr Silvanus Pardue at that moment, having dexterously twitched a towelso as to hide the work of art on which he had been engaged the momentbefore.

  "I've done nothing, Mother," he demurely observed, adding with consciousvirtue, "I never tear my clothes."

  "You've made a pretty hole in your manners, my master," replied hismother. "Nicholas, what thinkest a lad to deserve that nicks MistressHall with the name of `Old Tabby'?"

  Nicholas Pardue made no answer in words, but silently withdrew theprotecting towel, and disclosed the sufficiently accurate portrait ofMistress Tabitha on the table-cloth.

  "Thou weary gear of a pert, mischievous losel!" [wretch, rascal] criedCollet. "Thou shalt dine with Duke Humphrey [a proverbial expressionfor fasting] this morrow, and sup on birch broth, as I'm a living woman!My clean-washed linen that I've been a-toiling o'er ever since three o'the clock! Was there nought else to spoil but that, thou rascal?"

  "Oh ay, Mother," said Silas placidly. "There's your new partlet, andPen's Sunday gown."

  Mrs Pardue's hand came down not lightly upon Silas.

  "I'll partlet thee, thou rogue! I'll learn thee to dirt clean gear, andmake work for thy mother! If ever in all my born days I saw a worserlad--"

  The door was darkened. Collet looked up, and beheld the parish priest.Her hold of Silas at once relaxed--a fact of which that lively gentlemanwas not slow to take advantage--and she dropped a courtesy, not veryheartfelt, as the Reverend Philip Bastian made his way into the cottage.Nicholas gave a pull to his forelock, while Collet, bringing forward achair, which she dusted with her apron, dismissed Penuel with a look.

  The priest's face meant business. He sat down, leaned both hands on hisgold-headed cane, and took a deliberate look at both Nicholas and Colletbefore he said a word beyond the bare "Good even." After waiting longenough to excite considerable uneasiness in their minds, he inquired indulcet tones--

  "What have you to say to me, my children?"

  It was the woman who answered. "Please you. Father, we've nought tosay, not in especial, without to hope you fare well this fine even."

  "Indeed!--and how be you faring?"

  "Right well, an't like you, Father, saving some few pains in my bones,such as I oft have of a washing-day."

  "And how is it with thy soul, daughter?"

  "I lack not your help therein, I thank you," said Collet somewhatspiritedly.

  "Do you not so? I pray you, where have you stood in the church sincelast May, that never once have I, looking from the altar, seen yourfaces therein? Methinks you must have found new standing-room, behindthe rood-screen, or maybe within the font," suggested the priestsatirically. "Wit you that this is ever the beginning of heresy? Haveyou heard what has befallen your landlord's wife, Mistress Benden?Doubtless she thought her good name and repute should serve her in thiscase. Look you, they have not saved her. She lieth this night inCanterbury Gaol, whither you may come belike, an' you have not a care,and some of your neighbours with you. Moreover, your dues be not fullypaid--"

  "Sir," replied Nicholas Pardue, "I do knowledge myself behind in thatmatter, and under your good leave, I had waited on you ere the week wereout. A labouring man, with a great store of children, hath not alwaymoney to his hand when it most list him to pay the same."

  "So far, well," answered the priest more amiably. "I will tarry a time,trusting you shall in other ways return to your duty. God give you agood even!"

  And with seven shillings more in his pocket than when he entered, theRev. Philip Bastian went his way. Nicholas and Collet looked at eachother with some concern.

  "We've but barely 'scaped!" said the latter. "What do we now, Nick?Wilt go to church o' Sunday?"

  "No," said Nicholas quietly.

  "Shall I go without thee, to peace him like?"

  "Not by my good-will thereto."

  "Then what do we?"

  "What we have hitherto done. Serve God, and keep ourselves from idols."

  "Nick, I do by times marvel if it be any ill to go. _We_ worship noidols, even though we bow down--"

  "`Thou shalt not bow down to them' is the command."

  "Ay, but they were images of false gods."

  "Read the Commandment, good wife. They were `any graven image, or thelikeness of any thing that is in Heaven above, or in the earth beneath,or in the waters under the earth.' Not a word touching false gods readI there."

  "Why, but that were to condemn all manner of painting and such like--even yon rogue's likeness of Mistress Hall yonder."

  "Scarcely, methinks, so long as it were not made for worship. Thecherubim were commanded to be made. But if so were, wife--whether werebetter, that the arts of painting and sculpture were forgotten, or thatGod should be dishonoured and His commands disobeyed?"

  "Well, if you put it that way--"

  "Isn't it the true way?"

  "Ay, belike it is. But he'll be down on us, Nick."

  "No manner of doubt, wife, but he will, and Satan too. But `I am withthee, and no man shall invade thee to hurt thee,' [see Note] saith theLord unto His servants."

  "They've set on Mistress Benden, trow."

  "Nay, not to hurt her. `Some of you shall they cause to be put todeath... yet shall not an hair of your head perish.'"

  "Eh, Nick, how shall that be brought about?"

  "I know not, Collet, neither do I care. The Lord's bound to bring itabout, and He knows how. I haven't it to do."

  "'Tis my belief," said Collet, shaking the table-cloth, in a fondendeavour to obliterate the signs of Master Silas and his art, "thatMaster Benden 'll have a pretty bill to pay, one o' these days!"

  Her opinion would have been confirmed if she could have looked into thewindow at Briton's Mead, as Mr Benden's house was called. For EdwardBenden was already coming to that conclusion. He sat in his lonelyparlour, without a voice to break the stillness, after an uncomfortablesupper sent up in the absence of the mistress by a girl whom Alice hadnot yet fully trained, and who, sympathising wholly with her, was notconcerned to increase the comfort of her master. At that time themistress of a house, unless very exalted, was always her own housekeeperand head cook.

  Mr Benden was not a man
usually given to excess, but he drank deeplythat evening, to get out of the only company he had, that of his ownself-reproachful thoughts. He had acted in haste--spurred on, notdeterred, by Tabitha's bitter speeches; and he was now occupied inrepenting considerably at leisure. He knew as well as any one couldhave told him, that he was an unpopular man in his neighbourhood, andthat no one of his acquaintance would have done or suffered much forhim, save that long-suffering wife who, by his own act, lay that night aprisoner in Canterbury Gaol. Even she did not love him--he had nevergiven her room nor reason; but she would have done her duty by him, andhe knew it.

  He looked up to where her portrait hung upon the wall, taken ten yearsago, in the bloom of her youth. The eyes were turned towards him, andthe lips were half parted in a smile.

  "Alice!" he said, as if the picture could have heard him. "Alice!"

  But the portrait smiled on, and gave no answer.

  "I'll have you forth, Alice," he murmured. "I'll see to it the firstthing to-morrow. Well, not to-morrow, neither; market-day at Cranbrook.I meant to take the bay horse to sell there. Do no harm, trow, to lether tarry a two-three days or a week. I mean you no harm, Alice; onlyto bring you down a little, and make you submissive. You're a bit toomuch set on your own way, look you. I'll go to Master Horden and MasterColepeper, and win them to move Dick o' Dover to leave her go forth. Itshall do her a power of good--just a few days. And I can ne'er put upwith many suppers like this--I must have her forth. Should have thoughto' that sooner, trow. Ay, Alice--I'll have you out!"

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  Note. Most of the Scriptural quotations are taken from Cranmer's Bible.