Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

style itself prudence, that methinks it might sometimeshappen that a right boldness should be called rashness."

  Raising my eyes to his, I thought I saw them clouded by a misty dew;and he replied, "Yea, Mistress Constance, and if it is so, I hadsooner that myself and such as I have a friendship for should have tocry mercy on their death-beds for too much rashness in stemming thetide, than for too much ease in yielding to it. And now," he added,"shall I repeat what Mr. Roper related of your virtues?"

  "No," I answered, smiling. "For if the faults he doth charge me withbe so much smaller than the reality, what hope have I that he shouldspeak the truth in regard to my poor merits?"

  Then some persons moving nearer to where we were sitting, some generalconversation ensued, in which several took part; and none so much tomy liking as Basil, albeit others might possess more ready tongues anda more sparkling wit. In all the years since I had left my home, I hadnot found so much contentment in any one's society. His mind and minewere like two instruments with various chords, but one key-note, whichmaintained them in admirable harmony. The measure of our agreementstood rather in the drift of our desires and the scope of ourapproval, than in any parity of tastes or resemblance of disposition.Acquaintanceship soon gave way to intimacy, which bred a mutualfriendship that in its turn was not slow to change into a warmerfeeling. We met very often. It seemed so natural to him to affectionme, and to me to reciprocate his affection, that if our love begannot, which methinks it did, on that first day of meeting, I know notwhen it had birth. But if it be difficult precisely to note theearliest buddings of the sweet flower love, it was easy to discern themoment when the bitter root of jealousy sprang up in Hubert's heart.He who had been suspicious of every person whose civilities I allowedof, did not for some time appear to mislike the intimacy which hadarisen betwixt his brother and me. I ween from what he once said, whenon a later occasion anger loosened his tongue, that he held him insome sort of contempt, even as a fox would despise a nobler animalthan himself. His subtle wit disdained his plainness of speech. Hisconfiding temper he derided; and he had methinks no apprehension thata she-wit, as he was wont to call me, should prove herself so witlessas to prefer to one of his brilliant parts a man notable for hisindifferency to book learning, and to his smooth tongue and finegenius the honest words and unvarnished merits of his brother.

  Howsoever, one day he either did himself notice some sort ofparticular kindness to exist between us, or he was advertised thereofby some of the company we frequented, and I saw him fix his eyes on uswith so arrested a persistency, and his frame waxed so rigid, thatmethought Lot's wife must have so gazed when she turned toward thedoomed city. I was more frighted at the dull lack of expression in hisface than at a thousand frowns or even scowls. His eyes were reft oftheir wonted fire; the color had flown from his lips; his always palecheek was of a ghastly whiteness; and his hand, which was thrust inhis bosom, and his feet, which seemed rooted to the ground, were asmotionless as those of a statue. A shudder ran through me as he stoodin this guise, neither moving nor speaking, at a small distance fromme. I rose and went away, for his looks freezed me. But the next timeI met him this strangeness of behavior had vanished, and I almostmisdoubted the truth of what I had seen. He was a daily witness, forseveral succeeding weeks, of what neither Basil nor I cared muchto conceal--the mutual confidence and increasing tenderness ofaffection, which was visible in all our words and actions at thattime, which was one of greater contentment than can be expressed. Thatsummer was a rare one for fineness of the weather and its great storeof sun-shiny days. We had often pleasant divertisements in theneighborhood of London, than which no city is more famous for thebeauty of its near scenery. One while we ascended the noble riverThames as far as Richmond, England's Arcadia, whose smooth waters,smiling meads, and hills clad in richest verdure, do equal whatsoeverpoets have ever sung or painters pictured. Another time we disportedourselves in the gardens of Hampton, where, in the season of roses,the insects weary their wings over the flower-beds--the thrifty beeswith the weight of gathered honey--and the gay butterflies, idlers asourselves, with perfume and pleasure. Or we went to Greenwich Park,and underneath the spreading trees, with England's pride of shippingin sight, and barges passing to and fro on the broad stream as on awatery highway, we whiled away the time in many joyous pastimes.

  On an occasion of this sort it happened that both brothers went withus, and we forecasted to spend the day at a house in the village ofPaddington, about two miles from London, where Mr. Congleton's sister,a lady of fortune, resided. It stood in a very fair garden, the gateof which opened on the high road; and after dinner we sat with someother company which had been invited to meet us under the large cedartrees which lined a broad gravel-walk leading from the house to thegate. The day was very hot, but now a cooling air had risen, and theyoung people there assembled played at pastimes, in which I wassomewhat loth to join; for jesting disputations and framing ofquestions and answers, an amusement then greatly in fashion, mindedone of that fatal encounter betwixt Martin Tregony and ThomasSherwood, the end of which had been the death of the one and a fatalinjury to the soul of the other. Hubert was urgent with me to join inthe arguments proposed; but I refused, partly for the aforesaidreason, and methinks, also, because I doubted that Basil should acquithimself so admirably as his brother in these exercises of wit, whereinthe latter did indeed excel, and I cared not to shine in a sportwherein he took no part. So I set myself to listen to the disputants,albeit with an absent mind; for I had grown to be somewhat thoughtfulof late, and to forecast the future with such an admixture of hope andfear touching the issue of those passages of love I was engaged in,that the trifles which entertained a disengaged mind lacked ability todivert me. I ween Polly, if she had been then in London, should havelaughed at me for the symptoms I exhibited of what she styled thesighing malady.

  A little while after the contest had begun, a sound was heard at adistance as of a trampling on the road, but not discernible as yetwhether of men or horses' feet. There was mixed with it cries ofhooting and shouts, which increased as this sort of procession (for soit should seem to be) approached. All who were in the garden ran tothe iron railing for to discover the cause. From the houses on bothsides the road persons came out and joined in the clamor. As the crowdneared the gate where we stood, the words, "Papists--seditiouspriests--traitors," were discernible, mixed with oaths, curses, andsuch opprobrious epithets as my pen dares not write. At the hearing ofthem the blood rushed to my head, and my heart began to beat as if itshould burst from the violence with which it throbbed; for now the mobwas close at hand, and we could see the occasion of their yells andshoutings. About a dozen persons were riding without bridle or spur orother furniture, on lean and bare horses, which were fastened oneto the other's tails, marching slowly in a long row, each man's feettied under his horse's belly and his arms bound hard and fast behindhim. A pursuivant rode in front and cried aloud that those comingbehind him were certain papists, foes to the gospel and enemies to thecommonwealth, for that they had been seized in the act of saying andhearing mass in disobedience to the laws. And as he made thisproclamation, the rabble yelled and took up stones and mud to cast atthe prisoners. One man cried out, "Four of them be vile priests." O yewho read this, have you taken heed how, at some times in your lives,in a less space than the wink of an eye, thought has outrun sight? Sodid mine with lightning speed apprehend lest my father should be oneof these. I scanned the faces of the prisoners as they passed, but hewas not amongst them; however I recognized, with a sharp pain, theknown countenance of the priest who had shriven my mother on herdeath-bed. He looked pale and worn to a shadow, and hardly able to siton his horse. I sunk down on my knees, with my head against therailings, feeling very sick. Then the gate opened, and with a strangejoy and trembling fear I saw Basil push through the mob till he stoodclose to the horse's feet where the crowd had made a stoppage. Heknelt and took off his hat, and the lips of the priests moved, as theypassed, for to bless him. Murmurs rose from the rabble, but h
e took noheed of them. Till the last horseman had gone by he stood with hishead uncovered, and then slowly returned, none daring to touch him."Basil, dear Basil!" I cried, and, weeping, gave him my hand. It wasthe first time I had called him by his name. Methinks in that momentas secure a troth-plight was passed between us as if ten thousandbonds had sealed it. When, some time afterward, we moved toward thehouse, I saw Hubert standing at the door with the same stony rigidlook which had frighted me once before. He said not one word as Ipassed him. I have since heard that a lady, endowed with moresharpness than prudence or kindness, had thus addressed him on thisoccasion: "Methinks, Master Hubert Rookwood, that you did perform yourpart excellently well in that ingenious pastime which procured us somuch good entertainment awhile ago; but beshrew me if your brother didnot exceed you in the