The Lion's Whelp. Amelia E. Barr
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to audible conclusions, the voiceless tension in which they were sitting.
"My work is never out of hand, Jane," she said fretfully. "I am fairly downhearted to-day—so put to the push as I have been, with women in the kitchen and men in the fields."
"Dear mother, it may not be for long."
"It will be long enough to bring everything to wrack and ruin. The dairy is twenty-four shillings short this week."
"There are perhaps fewer cows in milk."
"The wool is short weight also; one of the gray horses is sick; the best thresher has gone soldiering, like the rest of the fools."
"Mother!"
"And Will Will-be-so has the rheumatism, and in spite of his Bible and his psalm-singing, has been to Dame Yodene for a charm."
"Why did he not come to you for flannel and a plaster?"
"Come to me! That goes without saying. I went out of my way to help him, and then he wished Master Israel was home, and said 'there was no rheumatics when he was round looking after his men.' I fired up, then, when he spoke that way—laying to my account the wettings he gets coming from the ale-house at nights; and then he muttered 'Women's ways—Will-be-so.'"
"Will is very provoking. I wish he would go to the wars."
"He likes the tap at Widow Tasburgh's, and the blacksmith's forge too well—let alone the women in the kitchen, who are all quarreling about him. And then there is this new girl, Susannah, who is more pretty than need be; her face gets her too much favour with the men and too little with the women. When Doctor Verity comes next, I must tell him to give a few words suitable at the Evening Service. They are a lazy, quarreling set, and every one of them does their work against the collar."
"Father told me he was led to believe he would not be long away. He said this campaign would be short and fierce, for General Cromwell looks on its necessity as the unpardonable sin in Charles Stuart."
"Short and fierce! Well, then, General Cromwell is well able to put fighting men up to that kind of thing."
"You are out with the General, mother, and all because you miss father so much."
"I am out with the war, Jane. What is the good of it? Charles Stuart alive, stands for his Prerogative just where Charles Stuart dead, did."
"The war is now an appeal to God. That is the good of it. You heard what Doctor Verity said of its necessity—and you agreed with him. Indeed, who could gainsay his words? He spoke as if he had heard God's command 'Up and be doing, and I will help you.'"
"Is God, then, the God of war? No, Jane. I will not believe it."
"God is the God of blessings, mother; but as the ploughshare breaks up the earth for the corn seed, so does the red ploughshare of war break up the heart of the nation for the blessing of freedom which shall follow it."
"I know not; I know not; but I am sure if there were no kings and queens in the world it would be little loss to God Almighty, or to any one else."
At this moment there was the sound of wheels and the tramp of horses, and Jane said, "It is Matilda de Wick. I know the roll of the carriage. Dear mother, keep a bright face in her presence. She will see everything, and draw conclusions from the smallest matter." Then Jane lifted her sewing, and the wheel began to hum, and the door opened swiftly and Matilda de Wick entered.
"I have just been at Ely," she said, "and if I live seven-and-fifty years longer in this sinful world, I shall not forget the visit." Then she laughed with a merry scorn, kissed Jane on the cheek, and laid off her hat, heavy with white plumes. "It is good-bye to my senses," she continued; "I am out of wisdom this afternoon—lend me your sobriety, Jane. I have been visiting Lady Heneage, and I have heard so much of the Cromwell's full cup that, in faith, I think it has gone to my head. Do I look sensible? I have no hope of my words, and I pray you excuse whatever I may say."
"I trust Lady Heneage is well," said Mrs. Swaffham.
"She had need to be well. Her house is as full as the ark. Mrs. Elizabeth Hampden is there, and daughter Flambord, and daughter Clayton, and all their children and retainers. It is their last gathering before they go away. Do you wish to know where they are going? To London, of course. When people carry themselves to such a height, no other city is big enough. But I ask pardon; I told you my words had lost their senses."
"Why do you go to see Lady Heneage if you like her not and surely you like her not, or you would not make a mock of her doings."
"I like to go where good fortune sits, Jane—and in these days no one can expect honour that deserves it. You know also that the last Heneage baby was named for me, and I got word that it was short-coated last Sunday; and so I went to see the little brat. It is a beauty, if it hold on to its good looks; and 'tis like to do so, for whatever Heneage gets, Heneage keeps."
"And they are going to London? Is it really so?" asked Jane.
"'Tis not very civil to doubt it. I dare be sworn it is as true as a thing can be, when the world is topsy-turvy. But that is not all of my news—I heard also that Jane Swaffham was going to London—a thing I would not believe without Jane's assurance."
"It is very uncertain," replied Mrs. Swaffham. "Jane has an invitation from Mary Cromwell, and if Doctor Verity comes here soon, he may find the time to take her to London with him. We know not assuredly, as yet."
"Jane must move mountains to go. The Cromwells are now living in the stately Cockpit. They will hold court there, and Jane Swaffham will be of it. 'Tis said all this honour for the Irish campaign."
"Then it is well deserved," answered Jane with some heat.
"Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham, "I can not abide any more quarreling to-day. If you and Matilda get on that subject, truth and justice will go to the wall. Monstrous lies are told about Ireland, and you both suck them down as if they were part of the Gospels." Then turning to Matilda she asked, "Why does the Heneage family go to London?"
"Indeed, madame, now that Mr. Cromwell has become Captain-General, and Commander-in-Chief, why should not all his old friends go to London? London has gone mad over the man; even that supreme concourse of rebels called Parliament rose up, bareheaded, to receive him when he last honoured them with a visit."
"Just what they ought to have done," said Jane. "Is there any corner of England not coupled gloriously with his name?"
"And Ireland?"
"Gloriously also."
"Pray, then, is it not extremely natural for his old friends to wish to see his glory?"
"I am sure of one thing," answered Jane. "Public honours please not General Cromwell. He would thank God to escape them."
"I do not say that the wish to see him honoured is universal," continued Matilda. "Father Sacy thinks there are a few thousand men still living in England who have not bowed the knee to this Baal."
"It is wicked to liken a good man to a devil, Matilda; and if mother will sit and listen to such words, I will not. And, look you, though Charles Stuart's men turn up their noses and the palms of their hands at General Cromwell, he stands too high for them to pull him down. Cromwell will work and fight the time appointed him—and after that he will rest in the Lord. For he is good, and just, and brave as a lion, and there is not a man or woman can say different—not a man or woman treading English ground to-day that can, in truth, say different! Always he performs God's will and pleasure."
"Or the devil's."
"He is a good man. I say it."
"And he knows it; and that is where his hypocrisy comes in—I——"
"Children! Children! can you find nothing more lovely to talk about? Matilda, you know that you are baiting Jane's temper only that you may see her lose it."
Then Matilda laughed, and stooping to her friend, kissed her and said, "Come, little Jane, I will ask your pardon. It is the curse of these days, that one must lie to one's own heart,