philosopher, who kepthis study; but in the evening coming forth into the market-place, andfinding that all the people marked him as a fool, who was only wise,he was forced to pray for another shower, that he might become a fool,and so live quietly among fools rather than bear the envy of hiswisdom."
With this pleasant story our conversation ended, for supper was over,and the young gentleman soon went away. I asked of many persons who heshould be, but none could tell me. Polly, the next day, said he was ayouth lately returned from France (which was only what I knew before),and that Sir Nicholas Throckmorton had written a letter to LadyIngoldsby concerning him, but his name she had forgot. O what strangehaps, more strange than any in books, do at times form the thread of atrue history! what presentiments in some cases, what ignorance inothers, beset us touching coming events!
The next pages will show the ground of these reflections.
CHAPTER XXV.
One day that Mrs. Wells was somewhat disordered, and keeping her room,and I was sitting with her, her husband came to fetch me into theparlor to an old acquaintance, he said, who was very desirous for tosee me. "Who is it?" I asked; but he would not tell me, only smiled;my foolish thinking supposed for one instant that it might be Basil hespoke of, but the first glance showed me a slight figure and palecountenance, very different to his whom my witless hopes had expectedfor to see, albeit without the least shadow of reason. I stood lookingat this stranger in a hesitating manner, who perceiving I did not knowhim, held out his hand, and said,
"Has Mistress Constance forgotten her old playfellow?"
"Edmund Genings!" I exclaimed, suddenly guessing it to be him.
"Yea," he said, "your old friend Edmund."
"Mr. Ironmonger is this reverend gentleman's name now-a-days," Mr.Wells said; and then we all three sat down, and by degrees in Edmund'spresent face I discerned the one I remembered in former years. Thesame kind and reflective aspect, the pallid hue, the upward-raisedeye, now with less of searching in its gaze, but more, I ween, ofyearning for an unearthly home.
"O dear and reverend sir," I said, "strange it doth seem indeed thusto address you, but God knoweth I thank him for the honor he hath donemy old playmate in the calling of him unto his service in theseperilous times."
"Yea," he answered, with emotion, "I do owe him much, which lifeitself should not be sufficient to repay."
"My good father," I said, "some time before his death gave me a tokenin a letter that you were in England. Where have you been all thistime?"
"Tell us the manner of your landing," quoth Mr. Wells; "for this isthe great ordeal which, once overpassed, lets you into the vineyard,for to work for one hour only sometimes, or else to bear many yearsthe noontide heat and nipping frosts which laborers like unto yourselfhave to endure."
"Well," said Edmund, "ten months ago we took shipping at Honfleur,and, wind and weather being propitious, sailed along the coast ofEngland, meaning to have landed in Essex; but for our sakes the masterof the bark lingered, when we came in sight of land, until two hourswithin night, and being come near unto Scarborough, what should happenbut that a boat with pirates or rovers in it comes out to surprise us,and shoots at us divers times with muskets! But we came by no harm;for the wind being then contrary, the master turned his ship andsailed back into the main sea, where in very foul weather we remainedthree days, and verily I thought to have then died of sea-sickness;which ailment should teach a man humility, if anything in this worldcan do it, stripping him as it does of all boastfulness of his owncourage and strength, so that he would cry mercy if any should offeronly to move him."
"Ah!" cried Mr. Wells, laughing, "Topcliffe should bethink himself ofthis new torment for papists, for to leave a man in this plight untilhe acknowledged the queen's supremacy should be an artful device ofthe devil."
"At last," quoth Mr. Genings, "we landed, with great peril to ourlives, on the side of a high cliff near Whitby, in Yorkshire, andreached that town in the evening. Going into an inn to refreshourselves, which I promise you we sorely needed, who should we meetwith there but one Radcliff?"
"Ah! a noted pursuivant," cried Mr. Wells, "albeit not so topping aone as his chief."
"Ah!" I cried, "good Mr. Wells, that is but a poor pun, I promise you.A better one you must frame before night, or you will lose yourreputation. The queen's last effort hath more merit in it than yours,who, when she was angry with her envoy to Spain, said, 'If her royalbrother had sent her a goose-man, [Footnote 4] she had sent him inreturn a man-goose.'"
[Footnote 4: Guzman.]
Mr. Genings smiled, and said:
"Well, this same Radcliff took an exact survey of us all, questionedus about our arrival in that place, whence we came, and whither wewere going. We told him we were driven thither by the tempest, and atlast, by evasive answers, satisfied him. Then we all went to the houseof a Catholic gentleman in the neighborhood, which was within two orthree miles of Whitby, and by him were directed some to one place,some to another, according to our own desires. Mr. Plasden and I kepttogether; but, for fear of suspicion, we determined at last toseparate also, and singly to commit ourselves to the protection of Godand his good angels. Soon after we had thus resolved, we came totwo fair beaten was, the one leading north-east, the other south-east,and even then and there, it being in the night, we stopped and bothfell down on our knees and made a short prayer together that God ofhis infinite mercy would vouchsafe to direct us, and send us both apeaceable passage into the thickest of his vineyard."
Here Mr. Genings paused, a little moved by the remembrance of thatparting, but in a few minutes exclaimed:
"I have not seen that dear friend since, rising from our knees, weembraced each other with tears trickling down our cheeks; but thewords he said to me then I shall never, methinks, forget. 'Seeing,'quoth, he, 'we must now part through fear of our enemies, and forgreater security, farewell, sweet brother in Christ and most lovingcompanion. God grant that, as we have been friends in one college andcompanions in one wearisome and dangerous journey, so we may have onemerry meeting once again in this world, to our great comfort, if itshall please him, even amongst our greatest adversaries; and that aswe undertake, for his love and holy name's sake, this course of lifetogether, so he will of his infinite goodness and clemency make uspartakers of one hope, one sentence, one death, and one reward. Andalso as we began, so may we end together in Christ Jesus.' So he; andthen not being able to speak one word more for grief and tears, wedeparted in mutual silence; he directing his journey to London, wherehe was born, and I northward."
"Then you have not been into Staffordshire?" I said.
"Yea," he answered, "later I went to Lichfield, in order to try if Ishould peradventure find there any of mine old friends and kinsfolks."
"And did you succeed therein?" I inquired.
"The only friends I found," he answered, with a melancholy smile,"were the gray cloisters, the old cathedral walls, the trees of theclose; the only familiar voices which did greet me were the chimes ofthe tower, the cawing of the rooks over mine head as I sat in theshade of the tall elms near unto the wall where our garden oncestood."
"Oh, doth that house and that garden no more exist?" I cried.
"No, it hath been pulled down, and the lawn thereof thrown into theclose."
"Then," I said, "the poor bees and butterflies must needs fare badly.The bold rooks, I ween, are too exalted to suffer from these changes.Of Sherwood Hall did you hear aught, Mr. Genings?"
"Mr. Ironmonger," Mr. Wells said, correcting me.
"Alas!" Edmund replied, "I dared not so much as to approach unto it,albeit I passed along the high road not very far from the gatethereof. But the present inhabitants are famed for their hatred untorecusants, and like to deal rigorously with any which should come intheir way."
I sighed, and then asked him how long he had been in London.
"About one month," he replied. "As I have told you. MistressConstance, all my kinsfolk that I wot of are now dead, except my youngbrother John, whom I d
oubt not you yet do bear in mind--that fair,winsome, mischievous urchin, who was carried to La Rochelle about oneyear before your sweet mother died."
"Yea," I said, "I can see him yet gallopping on a stick round theparlor at Lichfield."
"'Tis to look for him," Edmund said, "I am come to London. Albeit Ifear much inquiry on my part touching this youth should breedsuspicion, I cannot refrain, brotherly love soliciting me thereunto,from seeking him whom report saith careth but little for his soul, andwho hath no other relative in the world than myself. I have warrantfor to suppose he should be in London; but these four weeks,with useless diligence, I have