Clare Avery: A Story of the Spanish Armada

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER TEN.

  COUNSEL'S OPINION.

  "A cross of gold, of silver, or of wood, Or of mean straw, hid in each shape of life; Some trial working for eternal good, Found in our outward state or inward strife."

  "Bab! Art thou yonder?"

  "Is it Jennet?"

  "Ay. There's a gentlewoman i' th' bower to see thee."

  "Nay,--a gentlewoman! Who can it be?"

  "I've told thee all I know. Hoo [she] wanted Mistress Clare; and I saidhoo were down at th' parsonage; then hoo said, `Is Barbara Polwhelehere?' And I said, `Ay, hoo's come o'er to fot [fetch] somewhat for th'young mistresses.' So hoo said, `Then I'll speak wi' her.' So I tookher to my Lady, for I see hoo were a gentlewoman; and hoo's i' th'bower."

  "I wis nought of her," said Barbara. "I never looked to see none herethat I know."

  "Well, thou'd best go to her," decided Jennet Barbara hurried down, andfound an old silver-haired lady sitting with Lady Enville, and addressedby her with marked deference.

  "Well, Bab!" said the old lady, who was brisk enough for her years;"thou dost not seem no younger since I saw thee in Cornwall, and themirror yonder saith neither am I."

  "Marry La'kin! but if I thought it metely possible, I would say it weresurely Mistress Philippa Basset!"

  "I will not confute thee, Bab, though it be but metely possible," saidthe lively old lady, laughing. "I came to see the child Clare; buthearing she was hence, I then demanded thee. I will go down to theparsonage anon. I would like well to see Robin, and Thekla likewise."

  "Eh, Mistress Philippa! but there be great and sore changes sithence youwere used to come unto the Lamb to see Mistress Avery!"

  "Go to, Barbara! Hast dwelt sixty years, more or less, in this world,and but now found out that all things therein be changeable? What bethy changes to mine? Child, there is not a soul that I loved in thosedays when Isoult dwelt in the Minories, that is not now with God inHeaven. Not a soul! Fifty years gone, brethren and sisters, there wereseven of us. All gone, save me!--a dry old bough, that sticketh yetupon the tree whence all the fair green shoots have been lopped away.And I the eldest of all! The ways of God's Providence be strange."

  "I said so much once unto Master Robin," responded Barbara with a smile;"but he answered, 'twas no matter we apprehended not the same, for theLord knew all, and ordered the end from the beginning."

  "He hath ordered me a lonely journey, and a long," said Philippa sadly."Well! even a Devon lane hath its turning."

  "And what brought you thus far north, Mistress Philippa, an' I make nottoo bold?"

  "Why, I came to see Bridget's childre. I have bidden these four monthsgone with Jack Carden. And being so nigh ye all, I thought I wouldnever turn home without seeing you."

  Lady Bridget Carden was the daughter of Philippa Basset's step-father.They were not really related; but they had been brought up as sistersfrom their girlhood.

  "Nigh, Mistress Philippa!" exclaimed Barbara in surprise. "What, fromCheshire hither!"

  Philippa laughed merrily. "Marry come up, Bab! thou hast not dweltseven years in Calais, as I have, and every yard of lawn for thypartlets to be fetched from London, and every stone of thy meat to boot.Why, thou earnest thine own self as far as from Cornwall."

  "Eh, marry La'kin! Never came I that way but once, and if God beserved, [if it be His will] I never look to turn again."

  Philippa turned to Lady Enville, who had sat, or rather reclined,playing with a hand-screen, while she listened to the precedingconversation. "And how goeth it with the child, tell me, Orige? She isnot yet wed, trow?"

  "Not yet," replied Lady Enville, with her soft smile. "I shall ne'er beastonied if she wed with Arthur Tremayne. 'Twere a very fair match, andhe is good enough for Clare."

  "A good stock, and an old; and a good lad, I trust. Thou must have acare, Orige, not to cast the child away on one that will not deal welland truly by her."

  "Oh, Arthur would deal well," said Lady Enville carelessly. "He is amighty sobersides, and so is Clare. They were cut out for one another."

  "Poor child!" said Philippa.

  "`Poor child'--and wherefore, Mrs Basset, say you so?"

  "Because, Orige, it seemeth me she hath no mother."

  "Nay, Mistress Basset, what signify you?"

  "No mother, Orige--or as good as none. An' Clare had been my child, Ihad never handed her o'er, to Arthur Tremayne nor any other, with nomore heed than a napron-full of sticks."

  "Well, in very deed, I do take the better care of the twain for Blancheto be well matched. Lo' you, Mistress Basset, Blanche is of goodlineage; and she is rare lovesome--well-nigh as fair as I was at heryears--so that I would not have her to cast herself away, in no wise:but for Clare--which hath small beauty, and is of little sort--it makethnot much matter whom she may wed."

  "Good lack, Orige Enville, is a maid's heart no matter?--is a maid'slife no matter? Why, woman! thou lackest stirring up with a poker! Imarvel if I were sent hither to do it."

  "Gramercy, Mistress Basset!" cried Lady Enville in horror. "Thatstirring up is it which I can in no wise abide."

  "The which shows how much thou lackest it. But I am afeard thou art toofar gone for any good. Well, I will look after the child; and I willset Thekla on to do it. And if I find Arthur to be a good man and true,and Clare reasonable well affected unto him,--trust me, I will notinterfere. But if not,--Orige, I will not see Walter's child cast away,if thou wilt."

  "Nay, good lack, Mrs Basset, what would you do?"

  Lady Enville knew the energy and determination of the old lady'scharacter, and that if she set her mind upon a course of action, she waspretty sure to carry it through, and to make other people do as shewished.

  "I will do _that_" said Philippa decidedly. "I will judge whether thelot thou hast chalked out for Clare be fit for her."

  "But in case you judge it not so, what then?"

  "Then I will have the child away."

  "I could ne'er allow that, Mistress Basset," said Lady Enville withunusual decision.

  "I shall ne'er ask thee, Orige," returned Philippa, with a slightlycontemptuous stress upon the pronoun. "I will talk with thine husband;I trust he will hear reason, though thou mayest not. And I could findgood places enow for Clare; I have many friends in the Court. My LadyDowager of Kent [Susan Bertie, the only daughter of Katherine Duchess ofSuffolk] would work, I know, for Isoult Barry's granddaughter; and sowould Beatrice Vivian [a fictitious person], Isoult's old comrade, thathath a daughter and a niece to boot in the Queen's chamber. And I daresay my Lady Scrope [Note 1] would do somewhat for me. Any way, I wouldassay it."

  "What, to have Clare in the Queen's Majesty's Court?" demanded LadyEnville, her eyes sparkling with interest and pleasure. "O MistressBasset, could you not compass the same for Blanche?"

  "In the Court! By my troth, nay!" said Philippa heartily. "I wouldnever set maid that I cared a pin for in Queen Bess's Court. Soothly,there _be_ good women there, but--And as for Blanche,--I will see her,Orige, ere I say aught. Blanche hath stole all thine heart, methinks--so much as there was to steal."

  "But what meant you touching Clare, Mistress Basset?"

  "What meant I? Why, to have her with some worthy and well-conditioneddame of good degree, that should see her well bestowed. I would trustmy Lady Dowager of Kent, forsooth, or my Lady Scrope--she is a goodwoman and a pleasant--or maybe--"

  "And my Lady Scrope is herself in the Court, I take it," said LadyEnville, pursuing her own train of thought, independent of that ofPhilippa.

  "Ay, and were therefore the less fitting," said Philippa coolly. "Takeno thought thereabout, Orige; I will do nought till I have seen themaidens."

  "But, Mistress Basset! you would ne'er count that mine husband's word,that is not in very deed her father, should weigh against mine, that amher true and natural mother?" urged Lady Enville in an injured tone.

  "Thou art her natural mother, Orige, 'tis sooth," was the uncompromis
inganswer: "but whether true or no, that will I not say. I rather thinknay than yea. And if thine husband be better father unto the child thanthou mother, he is the fitter to say what shall come of the maid. And Ican alway reason with a man easilier than a woman. Women be geese,mostly!"

  With which reasonably plain indication of her sentiments, the old ladyrose and took her leave. She would have no escort to the parsonage.She would come back and be introduced to Sir Thomas when she had seenthe girls. And away she trudged, leaving Lady Enville in theundesirable situation of one who feels that a stronger will than his ownis moulding his fate, and running counter to his inclinations.

  Open doors were kept at the parsonage, as was generally the case inElizabethan days. It was therefore no surprise to Mrs Tremayne, whowas occupied in the kitchen, with her one servant Alison acting underher orders, to hear a smart rap on the door which shut off the kitchenfrom the hall.

  "Come within!" she called in answer, expecting some parishioner in wantof advice or alms.

  But in marched an upright, brisk old lady, with silver hair, and a stoutstaff in her hand.

  "I am come to see Thekla Rose," said she.

  Mrs Tremayne was surprised now. It was thirty years since that namehad belonged to her.

  "And Thekla Rose has forgot me," added the visitor.

  "There is a difference betwixt forgetting and not knowing," replied MrsTremayne with a smile.

  "There is so," returned the old lady. "Therefore to make me known,which I see I am not,--my name is Philippa Basset."

  The exclamation of delighted recognition which broke from the Rector'swife must have shown Philippa that she was by no means forgotten. MrsTremayne took her visitor into the parlour, just then unoccupied,--seated her in a comfortable cushioned chair, and, leaving Alison to bakeor burn the cakes and pie in the oven as she found it convenient, hadthenceforward no eyes and ears but for Philippa Basset. Certainly thelatter had no cause to doubt herself welcome.

  "I spake truth, Thekla, child, when I said I was come to see thee. Yetit was but the half of truth, for I am come likewise to see Robin: and Iwould fain acquaint me with yonder childre. Be they now within doors?"

  "They be not all forth, or I mistake," said Mrs Tremayne; and she wentto the door and called them--all four in turn. Blanche answered fromthe head of the stairs, but avowed herself ignorant of the whereaboutsof any one else; and Mrs Tremayne begged her to look for and bring suchas she could find to the parlour, to see an old friend of Clare'sfamily.

  In a few minutes Blanche and Lysken presented themselves. Arthur andClare were not to be found. Philippa's keen, quick eyes surveyed thetwo girls as they entered, and mentally took stock of both.

  "A vain, giddy goose!" was her rapid estimate of Blanche; wherein, ifshe did Blanche a little injustice, there was some element of truth."Calm and deep, like a river," she said to herself of Lysken: and thereshe judged rightly enough.

  Before any conversation beyond the mere introductions could occur, introtted Mrs Rose.

  "Mistress Philippa, you be the fairest ointment for the eyen that I haveseen these many days!" said the lively little Flemish lady. "_Ma foi_!I do feel myself run back, the half of my life, but to look on you. Iam a young woman once again."

  "Old friend, we be both of us aged women," said Philippa.

  "And it is true!" said Mrs Rose. "That will say, the joints be stiff,and the legs be weakened, and the fatigue is more and quicker: but Ifind not that thing within me, that men call my soul, to grow stiff norweak. I laugh, I weep, I am astonied,--just all same as fifty yearssince. See you?"

  "Ah! you have kept much of the childly heart," answered Philippasmiling. "But for me, the main thing with me that is not stiff nor weakin me is anger and grief. Men be such flat fools--and women worser, ifworse can be."

  Blanche opened her eyes in amazement Lysken looked amused.

  "Ah, good Mistress Philippa, I am one of the fools," said Mrs Rose withgreat simplicity. "I alway have so been."

  "Nay, _flog_ me with a discipline if you are!" returned Philippaheartily. "I meant not you, old friend. You are not by one-tenth partso much as--" Her eye fell on Blanche. "Come, I name none.--And thouart Frank Avery's daughter?" she added, turning suddenly to Lysken."Come hither, Frances, and leave me look on thee."

  "My name is not Frances, good Mistress," replied Lysken, coming forwardwith a smile.

  "Isoult, then? It should be one or the other."

  "Nay--it is Elizabeth," said Lysken, with a shake of her head.

  "More shame for thee," retorted Philippa jokingly. "What business hadany to call thee Elizabeth?"

  "My father's mother was Lysken Klaas."

  "Good.--Well, Thekla, I have looked this face o'er, and I can read noAvery therein."

  "'Tis all deep down in the heart," said Mrs Tremayne.

  "The best place for it," replied Philippa. "Thou wilt do, child, asmethinks. I would say it were easier to break thy heart than to beguilethy conscience. A right good thing--for the conscience. Is thisClare?" she asked, breaking off suddenly as Clare came in, with a tonewhich showed that she felt most interest in her of the three. She tookboth Clare's hands and studied her face intently.

  "Walter's eyes," she said. "Isoult Barry's eyes! The maid could havenone better. And John Avery's mouth. Truth and love in the eyes;honour and good learning on the lips. Thou wilt do, child, and thatrarely well."

  "Mistress Philippa Basset is a right old friend of thy dear grandame,Clare," said Mrs Tremayne in explanation. "Thou canst not rememberher, but this worthy gentlewoman doth well so, and can tell thee much ofher when they were young maids together, and thy grandmother wasgentlewoman unto Mistress Philippa her mother, my sometime LadyViscountess Lisle."

  Clare looked interested, but she did not say much.

  Mr Tremayne and Arthur came in together, only just in time forfour-hours.

  "God save thee, Robin dear!" was Philippa's greeting. "Art rested fromLittle Ease? I saw thee but slightly sithence, mind thou, and never hadno good talk with thee."

  Mr Tremayne laughed more merrily than was usual with him.

  "Good Mistress Philippa, if thirty years were not enough to rest a man,in very deed he were sore aweary."

  "Now, Arthur," said Philippa, turning to him bluntly, "come and let melook thee o'er."

  Arthur obeyed, with grave lips, but amused eyes.

  "Robin's eyes--Thekla's mouth--Father Rose's brow--Custance Tremayne'schin," she said, enumerating them rapidly. "If the inward answer theoutward, lad, thou shouldst be a rare good one."

  "Then I fear it doth not so," said Arthur soberly, "Humbleness will dothee no hurt, lad.--Now, Thekla, let us have our four-hours. I couldeat a baken brick wall. Ay me! dost mind thee of the junkets, in olddays, at the Lamb?"

  "Thekla, I told thee afore, and I do it yet again,--women be flat fools.The biggest I know is Orige Enville. And in good sooth, that is muchto say! She is past old Doll, at Crowe, that threw her kerchief overthe candle to put it out. Blanche may be a step the better; methinksshe is. But for all that, she is Orige Enville's daughter. I would assoon fetch my bodkin and pierce that child to the heart, as I would sendher to the Court, where her blind bat of a mother would fain have her.'Twere the kindlier deed of the twain. Lack-a-daisy! she would makeshipwreck of life and soul in a month. Well, for Clare, then--I givethee to wit, Thekla, thou art that child's mother. Orige is not. Shenever was worth her salt. And she never will be. So the sooner thouwin the maid hither, the better for her."

  "She doth abide hither, Mistress Philippa, even now."

  "Tush, child! I mean the sooner she weds with Arthur."

  "Weds with Arthur!"

  It was manifest that the idea had never entered Mrs Tremayne's headuntil Philippa put it there.

  "Prithee, wherefore no?" demanded the old lady coolly. "Orige means it.Mercy on us, Thekla Rose! art thou gone wood?"

  "Mrs Philippa! Who e'er told you my Lady Enville meant
any suchthing?"

  "The goose told me herself," said Philippa bluntly, with a short laugh."'Twas not in a civil fashion, Thekla. She said Arthur was good enoughfor Clare; it recked not whom Clare wedded withal. Marry come up! if Ihad not let mine head govern mine hands, I had fetched her a good crackon the crown with my staff. It could ne'er have hurt her brain--she hasnone. What were such women born for, do all the saints wit?--without itwere to learn other folk patience."

  Thekla Tremayne was a woman, and a mother. She would have been morethan human if she had not felt hurt for this insult to her boy. WasClare, or anything else in the world, too good for her one darling?

  "Come,--swallow it, Thekla, and have done," said Philippa. "And by wayof a morsel of sugar at after the wormwood, I will tell thee I do notthink Clare hates him. I studied her face."

  "Mistress Philippa, you read faces so rarely, I would you could readLucrece Enville. Margaret, which is eldest of the three, is plainreading; I conceive her conditions [understand her disposition] well.But Lucrece hath posed me ever since I knew her."

  "I will lay thee a broad shilling, child, I read her off like thoushouldst a hornbook when I see her. Ay, I have some skill touchingfaces: I have been seventy years at the work."

  That evening, just before supper, the indefatigable old lady marchedinto the hall at Enville Court. Lady Enville introduced her to SirThomas and Mistress Rachel, and presented her step-daughters and Jack.Philippa made her private comments on each.

  "A worthy, honest man--not too sharp-sighted," she said of Sir Thomas toherself. "And a good, sound-hearted woman"--of Mistress Rachel. "Thereis a pickie, or I mistake," greeted Jack. "This is Margaret, is it?Clear as crystal: not deep, but clear. But this face"--as Lucrece camebefore her--"is deep enough. Not deep like a river, but like a snake.I could do well enough with your plain, honest sister; but I love younot, Mistress Lucrece. Enville. Your graceful ways do not captivateme. Ah! it takes a woman to know a woman. And the men, poor sillythings! fancy they know us better than we do each other."

  If Philippa had spoken that last sentiment audibly, she would have wonthe fee-simple of Rachel Enville's heart.

  "Sir Thomas," said Philippa, when they rose from supper, "when it maystand with your conveniency, I would fain have an half-hour's talk withyou."

  Sir Thomas was ready enough to confer with the old lady, whom he liked,and he led her courteously to his wife's boudoir. Lady Enville sat downin her cushioned chair, and made a screen of her fan.

  "Sir Thomas," began Philippa bluntly, "I would fain wit what you andOrige mean to do with Clare? Forgive my asking; I love the child forher grandame's sake."

  "Good Mistress, you be full welcome to ask the same. But for me, I knownot how to answer, for I never took any thought thereupon. Hadst thouthought thereon, Orige?"

  "I counted her most like to wed with Arthur Tremayne," said Lady Envillecarelessly.

  "I ne'er thought of him," remarked Sir Thomas.

  "If it be so, good," said Philippa. "I have looked the lad o'er, and Iam satisfied with him. And now, I pray you, take one more word from anold woman, of your gentleness. What do you with Blanche?"

  In answer to this question--for Philippa was well known to Sir Thomas byrepute, and he was prepared to trust her thoroughly--the whole story ofDon Juan came out. Philippa sat for a minute, looking thoughtfully intothe fire.

  "Have a care of yonder maid," she said.

  "But what fashion of care, Mistress Basset? An' you grant it me, Iwould value your thought thereupon."

  Philippa turned to Sir Thomas.

  "Have you not," she said, "made somewhat too much of this matter? Notthat it was other than grave, in good sooth; yet methinks it had beenbetter had you not let Blanche see that you counted it of so muchimport. I fear she shall now go about to count herself of mightyimportance. Childre do, when you make much of their deeds; and Blancheis but a child yet, and will so be for another year or twain. Now thisyoung man is safe hence, I would say, Fetch her home. And let none evername the matter afore her again; let bygones be bygones. Only give herto see that you account of her as a silly child for the past, but yetthat you have hope she shall be wiser in the future."

  "Well, herein I see not with you," said Lady Enville. "I had thought itrare good fortune for Blanche to wed with Don John."

  Sir Thomas moved uneasily, but did not answer. Philippa turned andlooked at the speaker.

  "That was like," she said quietly. But neither of her hearers knew howmuch meaning lay beneath the words.

  "And what think you touching Lucrece?" asked Mrs Tremayne the next day,when Philippa was again at the parsonage.

  "I ne'er had a fancy for snakes, Thekla."

  "Then you count her deceitful? That is it which I have feared."

  "Have a care," said Philippa. "But what is to fear? A care of what?"

  "Nay, what feareth any from a snake? That he should sting, I take it.He may do it while you be looking. But he is far more like to do itwhen you be not."

  The evening before the two sisters were to return to Enville Court, MrsTremayne and Clare were sitting alone in the parlour. Clare hadmanoeuvred to this end, for she wanted to ask her friend a question; andshe knew there was a particular period of the evening when Mr Tremayneand Arthur were generally out, and Lysken was occupied elsewhere. MrsRose and Blanche remained to be disposed of; but the former relievedClare's mind by trotting away with a little basket of creature comfortsto see a sick woman in the village; and it was easy to ask Blanche toleave her private packing until that period. But now that Clare had gotMrs Tremayne to herself, she was rather shy in beginning her inquiries.She framed her first question in a dozen different ways, rejected allfor various reasons, and finally--feeling that her opportunity wassliding away--came out with that one which she had most frequently castaside.

  "Mistress Tremayne, account you it alway sinful to harbour discontent?"

  "I could much better answer thee, dear maid, if I knew the fountainwhence thy question springeth."

  This was just the point which Clare was most shy of revealing. But shereally wanted Mrs Tremayne's opinion; and with an effort she conqueredher shyness.

  "Well,--suppose it had pleased God to cast my lot some whither, that thedaily work I had to do was mighty dislikeful to me; and some othermaiden that I knew, had that to do withal which I would have loveddearly:--were it ill for me to wish that my business had been likehers?"

  "Whom enviest thou, my child?" asked Mrs Tremayne very gently.

  Clare blushed, and laughed.

  "Well, I had not meant to say the same; but in very deed I do envyLysken."

  "And wherefore, dear heart?"

  "Because her work is so much higher and better than mine."

  Mrs Tremayne did not answer for a moment. Then she said,--"Tell me,Clare,--suppose thy father's serving-men and maids should begin todispute amongst themselves,--if Sim were to say, `I will no longer servein the hall, because 'tis nobler work to ride my master's horses:' orKate were to say, `I will no longer sweep the chambers, sith 'tis highermatter to dress my master's meat:' and Nell,--`I will no longer dressthe meat, sith it were a greater thing to wait upon my mistress in herchamber,'--tell me, should the work of the house be done better, orworser?"

  "Worser, no doubt."

  "Well, dear heart, and if so, why should God's servants grudge to do thediffering works of their Master? If thou art of them, thy Master, hathset thee thy work. He saw what thou wert fit to do, and what was fit tobe done of thee; and the like of Lysken. He hath set thee where thouart; and such work as thou hast to do there is His work for thee. Alwayremembering,--if thou art His servant."

  Clare did not quite like that recurring conjunction. It sounded as ifMrs Tremayne doubted the fact.

  "You think me not so?" she asked in a low voice.

  "I hope thou art, dear Clare. But thou shouldst know," was thesearching answer.

  There was silence after that, till Clare sa
id, with a sigh, "Then youreckon I ought not to wish for different work?"

  "I think not, my maid, that wishing and discontent be alway one and thesame. I may carry a burden right willingly and cheerfully, and yet feelit press hard, and be glad to lay it down. Surely there is no ill thatthou shouldest say to thy Father, `If it be Thy will, Father, I wouldfain have this or that.' Only be content with His ordering, if Heshould answer, `Child, thou hast asked an evil thing.'"

  There was another pause, during which Clare was thinking.

  "Am I the first to whom thou hast opened thine heart hereon, dearClare?"

  "Well, I did let fall a word or twain at home," said Clare smiling; "butI found no like feeling in response thereto."

  "Not even from Margaret?"

  "Meg thought there was work enough at home," replied Clare laughing,"and bade me go look in the mending-chest and see how much lackeddoing."

  "Nor Mistress Rachel?"

  "Nay, Aunt Rachel said I might well be thankful that I was safe guardedat home, and had not need to go about this wicked world."

  "Well, there is reason in that. It is a wicked world."

  "Yet, surely, we need try to make it better, Mistress Tremayne: and--anywoman could stitch and cut as well as I."

  Clare spoke earnestly. Mrs Tremayne considered a little before sheanswered.

  "Well, dear heart, it may be the Lord doth design thee to be a worker inHis vineyard. I cannot say it is not thus. But if so, Clare, itseemeth me that in this very cutting and stitching, which thou so muchmislikest, He is setting thee to school to be made ready. Ere we be fitfor such work as thou wouldst have, we need learn much: and one lessonwe have to learn is patience. It may be that even now, if the Lord meanto use thee thus, He is giving thee thy lesson of patience. `Letpatience have her perfect work.' 'Tis an ill messenger that is so eagerto be about his errand, that he will needs run ere he be sent. Thegreat Teacher will set thee the right lessons; see thou that they bewell learned: and leave it to Him to call thee to work when He seeththee ripe for it."

  "I thank you," said Clare meekly; "maybe I am too impatient."

  "'Tis a rare grace, dear heart,--true patience: but mind thou, that isnot idleness nor backwardness. Some make that blunder, and think theybe patiently waiting for work when work waiteth for them, and they betoo lazy to put hand thereto. We need have a care on both sides."

  But though Mrs Tremayne gave this caution, in her own mind she thoughtit much more likely that Blanche would need it than Clare.

  "And why should I press back her eagerness, if the Lord hath need ofher? Truly"--and Thekla Tremayne sighed as she said this toherself--"`the labourers are few.'"

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  Note 1. Philadelphia Carey, a kinswoman of Queen Elizabeth through hermother, Anne Boleyn.