Chapter XII: A Snake among yᵉ Flowers

I can give thee, _Hew_, no very connected Account of the Rest of that Season.... One Horror followed another—the Land was full of Blood, and Fire, and Vapour of Smoke. We went softly, and lived gloomy, and wretched, and desolate.

Sometimes I wished my Turn would come: then, dreaded it. _Tomkins_ was continually before mine Eyes. At last, I suppose I altered so, that Master _Hewet_ sent me down to my Mother, to keep quiet awhile in the Country.

Oh! what Happiness that was! The Tears we then shed together had Healing in them; and soon, away from all hateful Sounds and Sights, we gave over weeping altogether. My Mother, I found, had, in the first Instance, outwardly conformed; _kissed Baal_, in Fact; and then, like a good many other timid yet well-meaning Persons, found many Excuses to make for having so done, which yet failed to allay Self-disapprobation, and ended in Contrition and Resolutions of doing so no more. She was favourably placed for the keeping of such Resolves; having moved out of _Ashford_, to a remote Country-farm, too far from a Place of Worship for regular Attendance, wherefore she had set a-foot a little Church within her House, that was served, under the Rose, by a deprived Minister harbouring in the Neighbourhood. One of my younger Brothers, a goodly Lad, was at School; the other, a sickly Urchin, dwelt at Home, inactive but very happy.

So here I tarried, Thanks to good Master _Hewet_! till my Mind quite regained its Strength, as happy as a Rook on _Sundays_, as we say in _Kent_. The Change was so great, that my Absence seemed much longer than it really was. On my Return to _London_, as I rode along _Kentstrete_, my Heart seemed to fly forward to what, in Course of Years, had become my very Home. And, when we were all re-united beneath the same Roof, and I had fallen into my old Course, with very little Interference with the World without, I shortly began to be ware of a deep, new, inward Source of Happiness, that for a While I neither could nor would understand. Whatever I did, wherever I went, the very Air I breathed seemed to have a Glow, and Sweetness, and Freshness in it, whether my Errand led me through the Skinners' Yards in _Budgerow_, or the Butchers' Stalls in _Eastchepe_; 'twas all the same!—let the Stretes be ringing with Noises, there was a Song of Angels in my Head that made me deaf thereunto. And soon I was ware that this new Sweetness of Living, which was Serenity abroad, was Rapture at Home; and so all-satisfying was it, that I took no Care for the Morrow, nor aspired for Aught I had not, but only coveted to go on just as I was.

Master _Hewet_, about this Time, was full content with me, and reposed in me more and more Trust. Whereby I became aware that his Ventures were becoming more important, his Connexions more extended, his Credit higher, his Gains greater; and yet, withal, no Abatement of his old Rule of Simplicity and Plainness; unless with regard to Mistress _Anne_. No Money was in Sooth spared on her for Teaching or Dressing: her Chambers for Night and Day had, I believe, every Adornment that Money and Taste could procure: if her Ornaments were few, it was rather that she did not affect wearing many, than that there was Anything her Eye coveted that her Father would not buy for her. But she was one whom Indulgence could not spoil. Her Money, of which she had ample Allowance from an early Age, (it being one of Master _Hewet's_ sage Maxims, that Children should be irresponsible Controulers of some regular Stipend, however small, to teach them Self-denial, Liberality, and Charity,) her Money, I say, was freely expended upon others, and employed in gratifying many an innocent Taste for Flowers, Birds, and such-like. Thus it fell, that I was now and then made Party to some little Mystery that gave me Pleasure she wist not she was bestowing, for I am persuaded she was at this Time living chiefly in a little Dream-land of her own, peopled with none but good Spirits and fair Prospects. It was, "_Osborne_, dost thou care to favour me so much as to step down to the _Blanche Chapelton_, and slip this into the Hand of the poor Basket-maker whose House was burned down last Night?"—or, _Edward_, I want to buy my Father an Inkstand I have seen in _Lyme-strete_; 'tis of rare Fancy, and, I think, a real Antique—a Hare in her Form, made of some glossy, brown Substance; and between the Hare's Ears is the Mouth of the Inkstand.—The Shop looks not like one I should care to enter, but 'tis over-against the Green-gate of _Miguel_ _Pistoy_. Mind not the Price, but see thou tell not even _Damaris_."

Now, though Master _Hewet_ so liberally supplied her Privy-purse, there were certain Household Expenses he made her reckon to a Penny; and, if she were at Fault, she had to make it good. 'Twas pretty, and diverting, to hear these two sometimes arguing together over their Account-book: for Mistress _Anne_ was not a ready Reckoner, and he would by no Means be put off with a Quip. One Day, they were counting out their Money, when he said, "_Ned_, this young Gentlewoman can never attain to a competent Knowledge of Figures. I'll give thee a Couple of Angels to carry her on into Practice, for I shall save Money i' the End."

So when he is gone, I say, "Come, Mistress, the Bribe is very high ... where shall we begin? I suppose 'twill shame you to be put too far back."

"I hardly know what will be too far back," saith she, rogueing a little—"My Father sayeth I have done this wrong—" and she gives me a little Slip of Paper, inscribed with the neatest, prettiest little Figures.

"Good now!" said I, "the only Mistake herein is,—you have essayed to subtract the greater Number from the less; which you know can never be."

"Yes, it can be, sometimes," saith she, quickly.

"Never!" say I. "How?"

"Take V from IV and I remains!" quod she. So I laughed, and told her many a Spendthrift would like that Reckoning.

"Well," said I, "I suppose you desire not to begin with Enumeration."

"Since your Time is so valuable," sayth she, "you need not teach me at all."

"Nay, Mistress," say I, "count a Million if you will! I can tarry."

"How long will that take me?" quod she.

"Why," say I, "if you count a Hundred a Minute, that is, six Thousand in an Hour, and count at that Rate for fourteen Hours in the twenty-four, you may in twelve Days count a Million."

"Hold, hold!" cries she, "you will make me puzzle-headed for a week!" and so, runs off.

Next Time I saw her alone, I say, "Well, Mistress, are you in the Humour for Practice?"

"No," quoth she with Decision, "I know Figures already!" And commenced tinkling on her Virginals. So, there an End ... or might ha' been, were any Woman two Days o' the same Mind. But, shortly, she cometh to me with a Tear in her Eye.

"_Ned_," saith she, "what's to be done? I gave all the Money in my Purse (there wasn't much), to the Girdler's Widow, hard by St. _Anne_ in the Willows; and now, I can't make up my Father's Accounts, and shall seem unto him a Defaulter."

"Or be one ... which?" quod I. "What is to do?"

"What _can_ I do?" returns she.

"Marry," say I, "I can lend you the Money."

"Nay," quoth she quickly, "it would not be right in me to take it."

"You have Reason," say I. "It would not."

"Then what remaineth?" she said.

"Honesty afore Charity," I made Answer. "You must ask Master _Hewet_ to deduct it from your next Quarterage, and henceforth give not away his Money when you have spent your own."

"He would never have grutched it!" cries she, kindling.

"Forsooth, then, all's said," quod I, and turned to go.

"_Ned!_ stop," cries she, "how _canst_ thou be so ill-natured?" and began to cry a little. "Why did you not, the other Day, as my Father bade you, put me on some better Method with my Accounts?"

"Why," said I, "I was about to try, when you started off like a young Deer from a Gad-fly."

"Well," saith she, "run this up for me, at all Events, and see if there be any Error in the Sum-total ... I shall be grateful to you either Way."

So I began,—"_To Groceries, four-and-fourpence_...."

"Four-and-fourpence!" cries she, "Four Pound four!"

"'Tis here plainly set down," say I, "as four-and-fourpence."

"Oh, charming!" cries she, "then all's straight!"

And, catching the Paper from mine Hand, she goes off with it, and I see no more of her nor her Accounts.

Only, about a Month after, Master _Hewet_ says, "Well, _Ned_, I have not paid thee thy two Angels?"

"I have not earned them, Sir," I say, "Mistress _Anne_ will none of my teaching."

"In Faith, then, she has schooled herself to some Purpose," saith he, smiling, "for she is ready enough now, both at Proportion and Practice. What a whimsical young Lass it is!"

In Fact she had, as about this Time, that Necessity for Application to practical Affairs which makes many Women good Reckoners whether they have a natural Turn for it or no. For Mistress _Fraunces's_ Health failing her a little, Mistress _Anne_ undertook the Conduct of the Household, which the other as readily yielded unto her, witting that the Pratique would do her good. So she went about, demurely, with the Keys, measuring this and weighing that, and setting down Everything in a little Book at her Girdle. 'Twas a Lesson, to see her Tendance, in all duteous Affectuousness, on good Mistress _Fraunces_, who indeed merited of her the Love of a Daughter, and whom she soon nursed well. Mistress _Fraunces_, always very softhearted, told me I should find she had not forgotten my Care of her, in her Will. Howbeit, I was thankful no Occasion came of opening it.

On my Birthday, Mistress _Anne_ came to me smiling, with her Hands behind her, and said, "Which Hand will you have?"

I regarded her earnestly, and said, "The right Hand, Mistress."

"Oh, miserable Choice!" cried she, laughing, and throwing me a worn Glove of her own; "hadst thou said 'Left,' thou shouldest have had this brave new Pair of scented Gloves!"

I said, "I'm content," and took up the cast Glove with Pleasure.

"Well," sayth she, "you are too indifferent by half about your Blunder—howbeit, here they are for you; I bought them of Purpose."

So I bowed reverently and took them in my Hand; but, when she was gone, I put the other in my Bosom.

Another Time, I was arranging a Sunshade for Mistress _Fraunces_, in the blue-buckram Chamber, when Mistress _Anne_ calleth me into the Balcony to look at some sunset Clouds, which she likened unto an Oliphant with a Princess on its Back, and to Armies and Fairy Palaces and such-like, till I told her if she span any more of her gold Cobwebs about me, I should be unable to leave the Balcony. Without heeding me, she giveth a great Sigh, and says, "There's one Thing I should like, that I know my Father would forbid. Pshaw, _Ned!_ thou needs not look so surprise-stricken! 'tis but to have my Fortune told, by a real Fortune-teller."

"And so double your Sorrows and deaden your Pleasures, Mistress?" say I. "Ah, no, 'tis bad tampering with unlawful Quests."

And then I told her a Tale current in the Part of the Country I came from, of a Lady who would dabble in Things supernal; and how her Fore-knowledge, actual or phansied, bred in her such Impatience of her present Lot and Greediness for Things to come, as to lead her to poison her Husband. And how the Grass would ne'er grow over his Body, but left the exact Outline of it, Arms, Legs, Feet, Hands, traced out a-top of his Grave; as may be seen this Day: and how she, a likely and well-favoured Woman, finding herself viewed askance by all, albeit no Crime could be proven against her, did call on Heaven to make her as thin as a Willowwand if she had any hidden Guilt upon her Soul; and how from that self-same Day she peaked and pined, dwindled, and fell away, till there was no Substance, so to speak, in her; for a Child might ha' carried her, she was the Lightness of one of Mistress _Anne's_ satin Slippers.

At the End of this Tale, Mistress _Anne_ drew a deep Breath, and, saith she, "_Ned_, thou wert always a marvellous Recounter!—Tell me another Tale, as moving as the last." So I told her another and another; till the Stars began to come out; and a Singer in a Boat lying a little Way off began to sing—

"_What though thine Eyes be like the Sun
That lights up all he looks upon_—"

"Whose can those be?" quod she. "Aye! whose, indeed?" said I. But I thought I knew.—Thus, in honeyed Sweetness, lapsed Day after Day.

But it came to an End. I found at last, whether I would shut mine Eyes or no, whether I would give Ear or feign Dullness, that I was seeing, hearing Nothing but Mistress _Anne_. At first, I would not attend to this; then said (in _Answer_ to Something,) "What Harm?" But yet Something answered back again, There _is_ Harm. Then quod I, To whom? There is none, nor never shall be to any save myself, and the only Harm to me is the Pain; and if the Pain is a Pleasure, or I choose to bear it and count it as such, where's the Harm and where's the Wrong?

But the Pleasure was gone. At least, there was so much Pain overlying it, that it was crushed down and smothered, and struggling to get free of its Burthen. Then I asked myself what this was about, and whither could it tend, and what had I lost that I had had before, that made me seem a different _Ned Osborne_? Also, why did I bring Shame on myself and bring Master _Hewet's_ keen Observance on me by such and such a Blunder in my daily Charge? Was his Eye altering towards me? Would it not needs alter, did he wit the foolish, impossible Things I spent the best (the _worst_) of my Time in dreaming of? Oh! my Heart would not bear it! There was Something eating its Way into my Soul, as a Weevil gnaws its Way into a Garner.

—No, this could not go on. I thought over it and took my Part; and after watching and letting slip many Opportunities, I at length, in Desperation, took the very first that came next, and stood beside Master _Hewet_ at his Desk when I wist that no Other was or would soon be within Earshot; and said, "Master, I must go."

"Whither, Lad?" quod he, surprised, yet kindly,—"On some Errand of thine own about the Town?"

I tried to get back my Voice, it faltered so!—and said, "Away ... away from here."

"Art ill?" quod he, laying down his Pen, and suddenly looking full at me. "Dost thou want to go for a While into the Country?"

"No," I said, "I must go seek another Service."

"Another Service?" repeated he, with a yet more piercing Look.—"This is strange ... and sudden. We thought you were so happy."

"I was," said I. "Only—"

"Only what?" And he waited: but I spake never a Word mo'.

"I see how it is!" cried he, suddenly growing red, "Master _Groggett_ hath tempted thee away from me, with Promise of higher Salary. Pitiful Fellow! I wot he hath long envied me a faithful Servant. 'Tis against our Company's Ordinance, to tempt a Man from his Master! Go, however, since thou wilt, ungrateful Youth!—thy Fidelity hath been undermined; thou hast never apprized our Kindness, hast never loved us!"

This unloosed my Tongue, and I said, "I have felt, if I have not deserved your Kindness, Master _Hewet_. No one hath tempted, nor could tempt me away, and I but seek to go for that I love you e'en too well."

"How can you love us too well?" quod he distrustfully.

—"_One_ of you," I said, faltering.

"_Anne_?" cried he. And saw it in my Face.

—"Well, Lad," quod he, softer, "no Need to blush scarlet nor weep, where no Shame lieth. _That_ would be in _not_ loving her, I think. You may love too much, you can't love too well."

"Too well for my Peace," quod I, turning my Head away—"You had better let me go."

"Well, I think not," quod he, after a Pause of some Length. "Go to what? To another House, where Everything will be worse for thee, save that _Anne_ will be not only out of Reach but out of Sight. You must perforce conquer yourself _then_, you know. Try to conquer yourself _now_."

"I don't think I can," I said; so huskily, that he made me repeat it twice.

"You meant to try, I suppose," quod he, "when you spake of going away."

"Yes, Master."

"Well, try here:—for a little While, that I may think where to place you. _Ned!_—I have had some Trial of thee; I have tested thee, and I have trusted thee. Don't betray my Trust in this Matter."

I said, "I will not."

"And do thou," quod he, with all his old Kindness, "trust in me. I shall do what, on Deliberation, I think best for you. And stay thyself with this Reflection: that if thou wert the first Noble in the Land, sueing for my Daughter, I would not, in these her so early Days, give her to thee. Keep a brave, honest Heart, and take Things quietly. You have not been such a Knave as to speak to her?"

"No, Master."

"Your Word is enough," quod he, and left me. I put my Head down on mine Arms and shed hot Tears that had no Relief in them. Just then, I felt a kind Hand laid with strong emphatic Pressure on my Shoulder. I kissed it, in Sign of Reverence and Good-faith: he understood it for such, and left me without a Word. And I went on mine Affairs with a lightened Heart.