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The witch


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Title:TheWitch
Author:MaryJohnston
ReleaseDate:September21,2016[EBook#53109]
Language:English

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ByMaryJohnston
HAGAR.
THE LONG ROLL. The first of two books dealing with
thewarbetweentheStates.WithIllustrationsincolorby
N.C.WYETH.
CEASE FIRING. The second of two books dealing with
thewarbetweentheStates.WithIllustrationsincolorby
N.C.WYETH.
LEWISRAND.WithIllustrationsincolorbyF.C.YOHN .
AUDREY.WithIllustrationsincolorbyF.C.YOHN .
PRISONERSOFHOPE.WithFrontispiece.
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD. With 8 Illustrations by
HOWARDPYLE,E.B.THOMPSON,A.W.BETTS,andEMLEN
MCCONNELL.
THEGODDESSOFREASON.ADrama.
HOUGHTONMIFFLINCOMPANY
BOSTONANDNEWYORK


(p.154)

“GOOD-BYE,MISTRESSFRIENDLY-SOUL!”


THEWITCH
BY

MARYJOHNSTON

BOSTONANDNEWYORK

HOUGHTONMIFFLINCOMPANY
TheRiversidePressCambridge
1914



COPYRIGHT,1914,BYMARYJOHNSTON
ALLRIGHTSRESERVED
PublishedOctober1914


CONTENTS
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.

THEQUEEN’SCHAMBER
THECAPANDBELLS
THETWOPHYSICIANS
THEROSETAVERN
THEROADTOHAWTHORN
THEMANWITHTHEHAWK
JOAN
THESQUIRE’SBROTHER
THEOAKGRANGE
INHAWTHORNFOREST
THEPLAGUE
HERON’SCOTTAGE
HAWTHORNCHURCH
NIGHT
NEXTDAY
MASTERTHOMASCLEMENT
MOTHERSPURAWAY
THEGAOL
ADERHOLDANDCARTHEW
THEWITCHJUDGE
THEWITCH
ESCAPE
THEROADTOTHEPORT
THEFARTHERROAD
THESILVERQUEEN

1
10
24
37
54
69
82
97
109
124
136
151
165
176
188
204
218
235
246
260
272
281
298
312
327


XXVI.
XXVII.
XXVIII.
XXIX.
XXX.
XXXI.
XXXII.

THEOPENBOAT
THEISLAND
FOURYEARS
THESPANIARDS
THEISLET
THEHOUR-GLASS
AJOURNEY

342
351
362
376
387
404
420


THEWITCH


THEWITCH


CHAPTERI
THEQUEEN’SCHAMBER
IT was said that the Queen was dying. She lay at Richmond, in the palace
looking out upon the wintry, wooded, March-shaken park, but London, a few
milesaway,haddailynewsofhowshedid.Therewasmuchtalkabouther—the
oldQueen—muchtellingofstoriesandharkingback.Shehadhadalongreign
—“Notfarfromfiftyyears,mymasters!”—andinitmanyimportantthingshad
happened. The crowd in the streets, the barge and wherry folk upon the windruffled river, the roisterers in the taverns drinking ale or sack, merchants and
citizensingeneraltalkingofthetimesintheintervalsofbusiness,oldsoldiers
and seamen ashore, all manner of folk, indeed, agreed upon the one most
importantthing.ThemostimportantthinghadbeenthescatteringoftheArmada
fifteen years before. That disposed of, opinions differed as to the next most
important.Theoldsoldierswereforallfightingwhereverithadoccurred.The
seamenandreturnedadventurersthrewforthevoyagesofDrakeandFrobisher
andGilbertandRaleigh.Withthesewereinclinedtoagreethegreatmerchants
and guild-masters who were venturing in the East India and other joint-stock
companies.Thelittlemerchantandguildfellowsagreedwiththegreat.Avery
largenumberofallclassesclaimedfortheoverthrowofPoperythefirstplace.
Ontheotherhand,aconsiderablenumbereitheralittlehurriedlyslurredthis,or
else somewhat too anxiously and earnestly supported the assertion. One circle,
all churchmen, lauded the Act of Uniformity, and the pains and penalties
provided alike for Popish recusant and non-conforming Protestant. Another
circle,menofaseriouscastofcountenanceandofagrowingsimplicityindress,
lefttheActofUniformityinobscurity,andafterthedeliverancefromthePope,
made the important happening the support given the Protestant principle in
France and the Netherlands. A few extreme loyalists put in a claim for the
number of conspiracies unearthed and trampled into nothingness—Scottish


conspiracies, Irish conspiracies, Spanish conspiracies, Westmoreland and
Northumberland conspiracies, Throgmorton conspiracies—the death of the
QueenofScots,thedeath,twoyearsago,ofEssex.
AllagreedthattheQueenhadhadastirringreign—allbutthelatterendofit.
The last few years—despite Irish affairs—had been dull and settled, a kind of
ditch-waterstagnation,akindofgoingdownhill.Fiftyyears,almost,wasalong
timeforonepersontoreign....
OnatimetheQueenhadbeenanidolandacynosure—foryearstheloveof
apeoplehadbeenwarmabouther.Ithadbeenapeoplestrugglingtobecomea
nation,besetwithforeignfoesandinnerdissensions,battlingforapartinnew
worldsandrealms.Shehadledthepeoplewell,ruledwell,comeoutwiththem
into the PromisedLand.Andnow there was averyhumandissatisfaction with
the Promised Land, for the streams did not run milk and honey nor were the
sandsgolden.Ashumanly,thedissatisfactioninvolvedtheoldQueen.Shecould
nothavebeen,afterall,theQueenthattheyhadthoughther....Aftercryingfor
so many years “Long live Queen Elizabeth!” there would come creeping into
mindadesirefornovelty.KingJames,—KingJames!Thewordssoundedwell,
and promised, perhaps, the true Golden Age. But they were said, of course,
underbreath.TheQueenwasnotdeadyet.
They told strange stories of her—the old Queen; usually in small, select
companieswheretherewerenonebutsafemen.AsMarchroaredon,therewas
more and more of this story-telling, straws that showed the way the tide was
setting.Theywererarelynowstoriesofheryouth,ofhercourageandfire,ofher
learning, of the danger in which she lived when she was only “Madam
Elizabeth,” of her imprisonment in the Tower—nor were they stories of her
coronation,andoftheway,throughsomanylongyears,shehadqueenedit,of
her“mereEnglishness,”hersteadycourage,herpowerofwork,hercouncillors,
her wars, and her statecraft. Leaving that plane, they were not so often either
storiesoftragicerrors,ofwrathandjealousy,finesseanddeception,ofarbitrary
power,ofthefret andweaknessof thestrong.—Butto-day they toldstoriesof
heramours,realorpretended.TheyrepeatedwhatshehadsaidtoLeicesterand
Leicester had said to her, what she had said to Alençon and Alençon had
answered. They dug up again with a greasy mind her girlhood relations with
Seymour,theycreatedloversforherandpuffedeverycoquetryintoafull-blown
liaison; here they made her this man’s mistress and that man’s mistress, and
therethey saidthat shecould be noman’smistress.They hadstoriestotellof
herevennow,oldandsickasshewas.Theytoldhow,thiswinter,forallshewas
soillatease,shewouldbedressedeachdayinstiffandgorgeousraiment,would


lie upon her pillows so, with rings upon her fingers and her face painted, and
whenayoungmanenteredtheroom,howshegatheredstrength....
TheMarchwindroareddownthestreetsandshookthetavernsigns.
InthepalaceatRichmond,therewasagreatroom,andintheroomtherewas
agreatbed.Theroomhadrichhangings,repeatedaboutthebed.Thewindows
lookeduponthewintrypark,andunderahuge,marblemantelpiece,carvedwith
tritons and wreaths of flowers, a fire burned. About the room were standing
women—maids of honour, tiring-women. Near the fire stood a group of men,
silent,inattendance.
TheQueendidnotlieuponthebed—nowshesaidthatshecouldnotendure
it,andnowshesaidthatitwasherwilltolieuponthefloor.Theyplacedrich
cushionsandshelayamongthemattheirfeet,hergauntframestretchedupon
clothofgoldandcolouredsilk.Shehaduponheralong,richgown,asfulland
rigid a thing as it was possible to wear and yet recline. Her head was dressed
with a tire of false hair, a mass of red-gold; there was false colour upon her
cheek and lip. She kept a cup of gold beside her filled with wine and water
whichatlongintervalssheputtoherlips.Nowshelayforhoursverystill,with
contractedbrows,andnowsheturnedfromsidetoside,seekingeaseandfinding
none.Nowtherecameamoan,andnowaTudoroath.Forthemostpartshelay
still,onlythefingersofonehandmovingupontherimofthecupormeasuring
theclothofgoldbeneathher.Hersightwasfailing.Shehadnoteaten,wouldnot
eat. She lay still, supported upon fringed cushions, and the fire burned with a
lowsound,andtheMarchwindshookthewindows.
From the group of men by the fire stepped softly, not her customary
physician, but another of some note, called into association during these last
days. He crossed the floor with a velvet step and stood beside the Queen. His
body bent itself into a curve of deference, but his eyes searched without
reverence.Shecouldnotseehim,heknew,withanyclearness.Hewasfollowed
fromthegroupbyagraveandablecouncillor.Thetwostoodwithoutspeaking,
lookingdown.TheQueenlaywithclosedeyes.Herfingerscontinuedtostroke
theclothofgold;fromherthin,drawnlips,colouredcherry-red,cameahalting
murmur:“England—Scotland—Ireland—”
The two men glanced at each other, then the Queen’s councillor, stepping
back to the fire, spoke to a young man standing a little apart from the main
group.Thisman,too,crossedthefloorwithanoiselessstepandstoodbesidethe
physician.Hiseyeslikewisesearchedwithagrave,professionalinterest.
“Navarre,” went the low murmur at their feet. “NavarreandOrange....No
Pope,butIwillhaveritualstill....England—Scotland—”


TheQueenmoanedandmovedherbodyuponthecushions.Sheopenedher
eyes.“Who’sstandingthere?God’sdeath—!”
Thephysicianknelt.“Madam,itisyourpoorphysician.WillnotYourGrace
takethedraughtnow?”
“No.—There’ssomeoneelse—”
“YourGrace,itisayoungphysician—English—butwhohasstudiedatParis
under the best scholar of Ambroise Paré. He is learned and skilful. He came
commendedbytheDukeof——toSirRobertCecil—”
“God’swounds!”criedtheQueeninathin,imperiousvoice.“HaveInottold
youandCecil,too,thattherewasnomedicineandnodoctorwhocoulddome
good!Parédied,didhe not? andyouandyourfellowwilldie!All die.Ihave
seenamanymenandmattersdie—andIwilldie,too,ifitbemywill!”
Shestaredpasthimatthestrangephysician.“IfhewereHippocrateshimself
I would not have him! I do not like his looks. He is a dreamer and born to be
hanged.—Begone,bothofyou,andleavemeatpeace.”
Her eyes closed. She turned upon the cushions. Her fingers began again to
moveupontherichstuffbeneathher.“England—”
Therejectedaidorattempttoaidstepped,velvet-footed,backwardfromthe
pallet.Thephysiciansknew,andallintheroomknew,thattheQueencouldnot
nowreallyenvisageanewface.Shemightwithequalknowledgehavesaidof
the man from Paris, “He is a prince in disguise and born to be crowned.” But
thoughtheyknewthistobetrue,theQueenhadsaidtheonethingandhadnot
said the other, and what she said had still great and authoritative weight of
suggestion.Theyoungerphysician,returningtohisplacealittleapartalikefrom
thewomenattendantsandfromthegroupofcourtiers,becametherecipientof
glancesofpredeterminedcuriosityandmisliking.Now,asithappened,hereally
didhavesomethingthelookofadreamer—thin,pale,andthoughtful-faced,with
musing, questioning eyes. While according to accepted canons it was not
handsome, while, indeed, it was somewhat strange, mobile, and elf-like, his
countenance was in reality not at all unpleasing. It showed kindliness no less
thanpowertothink.Butitwasafacethatwasnotusual....Hewasfairlyyoung,
tallandwell-formedthoughexceedinglyspare,welldressedafterthequietand
soberfashionofhiscalling.Oftheirownaccord,passinghimhastilyincorridor
orstreet,thepeopleintheroommightnothavegivenhimathought.Butnow
theysawthatundoubtedlyhewasstrange,perhapsevensinisterofaspect.Each
wishedtobeasperspicaciousastheQueen.
Buttheydidnotthinkmuchaboutit,andasthenewcomer,afterareverence


directedtowardtheQueen,presentlywithdrewwiththeolderphysician,—who
cameglidingbackwithouthim,—andashewasseennomoreinthepalace,they
soon ceased to think about him at all. He had been recommended by a great
FrenchlordtothefavourofSirRobertCecil.Thelatter,sendingforhimwithina
day or two, told him bluntly that he did not seem fitted for the Court nor for
Courtpromotion.
TheMarchwindroaredthroughLondonandoverMerryEnglandandaround
Richmondparkandhill.Itshookthepalacewindows.Within,inthegreatroom
with the great bed, the old Queen lay upon the floor with pillows beneath her,
with her brows drawn together above her hawk nose. At intervals her mortal
disease and lack of all comfort wrung a moan, or she gave one of her old,
impatient, round, mouth-filling oaths. For the most part she lay quite silent,
uneating, unsleeping, her fleshless fingers keeping time against the rich cloth
beneathher.HerwomendidnotloveherasthewomenofMaryStuarthadloved
thatQueen.Yearinandyearout,dayinanddayout,theyhadfearedthisQueen;
nowshewasalmostpastfearing.Theytooknocaretotellherthatthecarmine
uponherfacewasnotright,orthatshehadpushedtheattireofhairtooneside,
and that her own hair showed beneath and was grey. They reasoned, perhaps
withtruth,thatshemightstriketheonewhotold.Shelayinherrichgarments
uponthefloor,andthefireburnedwithalowsoundbeneaththewreathedtritons
and she smoothed the gold cloth with her fingers. “England—Scotland—
Ireland....MereEnglish—...ThePopedown,butI’llhavetheBishopsstill—”


CHAPTERII
THECAPANDBELLS
THEinnwassmallandsnug,nearCheapsideCross,andresortedtobymenofan
argumentativemind.TheMermaidTavern,nogreatdistanceaway,haditspoets
andplayers,buttheCapandBellswasforstatesmenintheirownthoughtalone,
andfordisputantsuponsuchtriflesastheconditionofEurope,thePope,andthe
changeintheworldwroughtbyDoctorMartinLuther.Itwasill-luck,certainly,
thatbroughtGilbertAderholdtosuchaplace.
WhenhelosthopeofanyhelpfromCecil,theevidentfirstthingtodoupon
returning from Richmond to London, was to change to lodgings that were less
dear,—indeed,tolodgingsaslittledearaspossible.Hispursewasrunningvery
low.Hechanged,withpromptitude,toapoorroominapoorhouse.Itwascold
at night and dreary, and his eyes, tired with reading through much of the day,
achedintheonecandlelight.Hewentoutintothedarkandwindystreet,sawthe
glow from the windows and open door of the Cap and Bells, and trimmed his
coursefortheswingingsign,adraughtofmalmseyandjovialhumanfaces.
Inthetavern’scommonroomhefoundaseatuponthelongbenchthatran
aroundthewall.Itwasadesirablecornerseatanditbecamehisonlybyvirtueof
its former occupant, a portly goldsmith, being taken with a sudden dizziness,
risingandleavingtheplace.Aderhold,chancingtobestandingwithinthreefeet,
slipped into the corner. He was near the fire and it warmed him gratefully. A
drawerpassing,heorderedthemalmsey,andwhenitwasbroughtherestedthe
cupuponthetablebeforehim.Itwasalongtable,andtowardthefartherendsat
halfadozenmen,drinkingandtalking.Whatwithfirelightandcandlestheroom
was bright enough. It was warm, and at the moment of Aderhold’s entrance,
peaceable.Hethoughtofaroundofwildandnoisytavernsthathehadtriedone
after the other, and, looking around him, experienced a glow of selfcongratulation.Hewantedpeace,hewantedquiet;hehadnoloveforthesudden


brawls,forthecandlesknockedout,andlivesofpeaceablemenindangerthat
characterized the most of such resorts. He sipped his wine, and after a few
minutesoflookingaboutandfindingthattheclusteratthefarendofthetable
wasuponadiscussionofmatterswhichdidnotinteresthim,hedrewfromhis
breastthebookhehadbeenreadingandfelltoitagain.Ashereadalwayswitha
concentratedattention,hewaspresentlyobliviousofallaround.
Anarminapuffedsleeveofblueclothslashedwithred,comingflatagainst
thebook andsmotheringthe pagefrom sight, broke thespell andbrought him
backtotheCapandBells.Heraisedhischinfromhishandandhiseyesfrom
thebook—orratherfromthebluesleeve.Thewearerofthis,aformidable,large
man, an evident bully, with a captious and rubicund face, frowned upon him
from the seat he had taken, at the foot of the table, just by his corner. The
numberofdrinkersandconversershadgreatlyincreased.Therewasnotnowjust
ahandfulatthisespecialtable;theywereadozenormore.Moreover,hefound
thatforsomereasontheirattentionwasuponhim;theywerewatchinghim;and
hehadagreatandnervousdislikeofbeingwatched.Hebecameawarethatthere
wasagooddealofnoise,coarsejestsandlaughter,andsomedisputing.Yetthey
looked,forthemostpart,substantialmen,notthewildTrojansandslashswords
thathesometimesencountered.Forallhisphysicaltrepidationshewasaclose
andaccurateobserver;rousednow,hesentacoupleofrapidglancesthelength
and breadth of the table. They reported disputatious merchants and
burgomasters, a wine-flushed three or four from the neighbouring congeries of
lawyers,acountryesquire,someonewholookedpompousandauthoritativelike
apettymagistrate,otherslesspatent,—andtheownerofthearmstillinsolently
stretchedacrosshisbook.
The latter now removed the arm. “So ho! Master Scholar, your
Condescension returns from the moon—after we’ve halloaed ourselves hoarse!
Whatdevilofabookcarriedyoualoftlikethat?”
Aderhold decided to be as placating as possible. “It is, sir, the ‘Chirurgia
Magna’ofTheophrastusBombastvonHohenheim,calledParacelsus.”
Theredandbluemanwasdeterminedtobully.“TheCapandBellshasunder
considerationthestateoftheRealm.TheCapandBellshasaddresseditselfto
youthreetimes,requestingyouropinionupongravematters.Firstyoudeignno
answer at all, and finally you insult us with trivialities! ’S death! are you an
Englishman,sir?”
“AsEnglishasyou,sir,”answeredAderhold;“though,intruth,seeingthatI
have livedabroad some yearsand am butlatelyreturned,my Englishmanners
may have somewhat rusted and become clownish. I crave pardon of the


worshipfulcompany,andIshallnotagainreadinitspresence.”
Aroistereraddressedhimfromhalfwaydownthetable.“We’vegotaruling
—wethatfrequenttheCapandBells.You’reastranger—andastrange-looking
stranger, too, by your leave—and you must wipe out the offense of your
outlandishness!Abowlofsackforthecompany—you’llpayforabowlofsack
forthecompany?”
ThecolourfloodedAderhold’sthincheek.Hehadnotenoughinhispurseor
anythinglikeenough.To-morrowheexpected—orhopedratherthanexpected—
to receive payment from the alderman whose wife, having fallen ill before the
verydoorofthehousewherehelodged,hehadattendedandbroughtoutfrom
thepresenceofdeath.Butto-morrowwasto-morrow,andto-nightwasto-night.
Hetoldthetruth.“Iamapoorphysician,mymasters,whohathoflatebeenset
aboutwithmisfortune—”
Theredandbluebullysmotethetablewithhisfist.
“What a murrain is a man doing in the Cap and Bells who cannot pay for
sack?Poorphysician,quotha!I’veknownamanyphysicians,butnonesopoor
asthat—”
Oneofthelawyers,amiddle-aged,wirymaninblack,raisedhishead.“He
saystrue.Come,brother,outwiththygoldandsilver!”
“WhenIshallhavepaid,”saidAderhold,“forthemalmseyIhavedrunk,I
shallnothavefourpenceinmypurse.”
“Payforthesack,”saidthelawyer,“andleavethemalmseygo.”
“Nay,”saidAderhold,“Ioweforthemalmsey.”
Theredandbluemanburstforthagain.“Oons!Wouldyouhaveitthatyou
donotowethesack?Callforthedrinkandagreatbowlofit,aye!Ifthehostis
out at the end, he can take his pay with a cudgel or summon the watch!
Physician,quotha?Now,asmyname’sAnthonyMull,helooksmoretomelike
ablackseminarypriest!”
Aderholdleanedbackappalled.Hewishedhimselfinthewindystreetorthe
gloomofhislodgings,oranywherebuthere.Wasitalltobeginagain,thegreat
wearinessoftroublehereandtroublethere?Tothreadanddodgeandbendaside,
only in the end to find himself at bay, bright-eyed and fierce at last like any
huntedanimal—hewhowantedonlypeaceandquiet,calmspacetothinkin!He
groaned inwardly. “Ah, the most unlucky star!” There came to his help,
somewhatstrangely,and,thoughnonenoticedit,uponthestartasitwereofthe
red and blue bully’s closing words, the Inns of Court man who had spoken
before. He took his arms from the table and, turning, called aloud, “William


Host!WilliamHost!”
The host came—a stout man with a moon face. “Aye, sir? aye, Master
Carnock?”
“WilliamHost,”saidCarnock,“itisknown,eveninthatremnantofBœotia,
theMermaidTavern,thatthou’rtthegreatestloverofbooksofalltheQueen’s
subjects—”
Thehostassumedthelookofthefoolish-wise.“Nay,nay,Iwouldnotsaythe
greatest,MasterCarnock!But’tisknownthatIvalueabook—”
“Then,”saidtheother,“hereisalearneddoctorwithanolesslearnedbook.”
Rising, he leaned halfway over the table and lifted from before Aderhold the
volume with which he had been engaged. “Lo! A good-sized book and well
madeandclothed!Lookyou,now!Is’tworththygreatestbowlofsack,hotand
sugared? It is—I see it by thine eye of judicious appraisement! I applaud thy
judgement!—IcallitaSolomon’sjudgement.—Furnishthedoctorwiththesack
andtakethebookforpayment!”
Aderholdthrustoutalongandeagerarm.“Nay,sir!Ivaluethebookgreatly
—”
“Ifyouarenotafool—”saidthelawyerwithasperity.
Butthephysicianhadalreadydrawnbackhisarm.Hecouldbeattimeswhat
theworldmightcallafool,buthisintelligenceagreedthatthisoccasiondidnot
warrantfolly.Hemightsomehowcomeupwiththebookagain;ifthealderman
paid,hemight,indeed,comebackto-morrowtotheCapandBellsandrecoverit
from the host. When the first starting and shrinking from danger was over, he
wasquickandsubtleenoughinmovesofextrication.Hehadlearnedthatinhis
case,orsoonorlate,acertaindesperatecoolnessmightbeexpectedtoappear.
Sometimes he found it at one corner, sometimes at another; sometimes it only
cameafterlongdelay,afterlongagonyandtrembling;andsometimesitslipped
itshandintohisimmediatelyafterthefirstrecoil.Wheneveritcameitbrought,
tohisgreatrelief,aninnerdetachment,muchasthoughhewereaspectator,very
safe in some gallery above. Up there, so safe and cool, he could even see the
humourinallthings.Nowheaddressedthecompany.“Mymasters,Cleopatra,
whenshewouldhaveacostlydrink,meltedpearlsinwine!Thebooktheremay
becalledajewel,forIprizeditmightily.Willyouswallowitdissolvedinsack?
SoIshallmakeamends,andallwillbewiserforhavingdrunkunderstanding!”
The idea appealed, the sack was ordered. But the red and blue bully was
bully still. Aderhold would have sat quiet in his corner, awaiting the steaming
stuffandplanningtoslipawayassoonasmightbeafteritscoming.Attheother


endofthetablehadarisenawordywaroversomecurrentcitymatterorother—
sofarashewasconcernedthecompanymightseemtobeplacatedandattention
drawn.Hewasconsciousthatthelawyerstillwatchedhimfromthecornerofhis
eye,buttherestofthedozenindulgedintheirownwiseacrewrangling.All,that
is, but the red and blue bully. He still stared and swelled with animosity, and
presentlybrokeforthagain.“‘Physician’!Itmaybeso,butIdonotbelieveit!
Asmyname’sAnthonyMull,IbelieveyoutobeaJesuitspy—”
Thesackcameatthemomentandwithitadiversion.Cupswerefilled,all
drank, and the lawyer flung upon the board for discussion the growing use of
tobacco,itsmeritsanddemerits.Then,withsuddenness,thepettymagistrateat
the head of the table was found to be relating the pillorying that day, side by
side, of a Popish recusant and a railing Banbury man or Puritan. All at table
turnedouttobestrongChurchofEnglandmen,zealousmaintainersoftheAct
ofUniformity,jealousofevenasmackofdeviationtowardPopeorCalvin.At
the close of a moment of suspension, while all drank again, the red and blue
bully, leaning forward, addressed the man of justice. “Good Master Pierce,
regardthis leech, so named, and put the question to him, will he curse Popery
andallitsworks.”
Itseemed,intruth,thatthiswasAderhold’sunluckynight.That,ortherewas
somethingintheQueen’sdeclaration,therewassomethingabouthimdifferent,
somethingthatprovokedinallthesepeopleantagonism.Andyethewasaquiet
man,ofabehavioursocarefulthatitsuggestedashynessortimiditybeyondthe
ordinary.Hewasnotill-lookingorvillainous-looking—butyet,thereitwas!For
allthathewasindubitablyofEnglishbirth,“Foreigner”waswrittenuponhim.
Thepresentunluckinesswasthebeingagaininvolvedinthiscontentiousand
noisy hour. He had been gathering himself together, meaning to rise with the
emptyingofthebowl,makehisbowtothecompany,andquittheCapandBells.
Andnowitseemedthathemuststoptoassurethemthathewasnotoftheold
religion! Aderhold’s inner man might have faintly smiled. He felt the lawyer’s
gaze upon him—a curious, even an apprehensive, gaze. The justice put the
question portentously, all the table, save only the lawyer, leaning forward,
gloatingfortheanswer,readytodartaclawforwardattheleastflinching.But
Aderholdspokesoberly,withaquietbrow.“Idonotholdwithcursing,Master
Justice. It is idle to curse past, present, or to come, for in all three a man but
curseshimself.ButIamfarremovedfromthatfaith,andthatbeliefisbecomea
strangeandhostileonetome.IamnoPapist.”
Thebullystruckthetablewithhisfist.“Asmyname’sAnthonyMull,that’s
notenough!”


Andthejusticeechoedhimwithanowl-likelook:“That’snotenough!”
A colour came into Aderhold’s cheek. “There is, my masters, no faith that
hasnotinsomemannerservedtheworldandgivenvoicetowhatwewereand
are,goodandbad.Nofaithwithoutlivesofbeautyandgrace.Nofaithwithout
itsgarland.ButsinceIamtoclearmyselfofbelongingtotheoldreligion—then
IwillsaythatIabhor—asinaportionofmyself,diseased,whichIwouldhave
as far otherwise as I might—that I abhor in that faith all its cruelties past and
present, its Inquisition, its torturers and savage hate, its wars and blood-letting
andinsensatestrife,itsfalsenessandcupidityandgreatandunreasonablepride,
itsKingKnow-No-MoreanditsQueenEnquire-No-Further!Iabhoritsleasing
bulls,itsanathemasandexcommunications,itsironportcullisdroppedacrossthe
outwardandonwardroad,itshanduponthethroatofknowledgeanditssearing
ironsagainsttheeyesofvision!Isaythatithasmadeadogmaofthechildhood
of the mind and that, or soon or late, there will stand within its portals
intellectualdeath—”
Thetableblinked.“Atleast,”saidthejusticesagely,“youarenoPapist!”
But the red and blue man would not be balked of his prey. “That’s round
enough,butlittleenoughasatrueChurchmantalks!Youappeartomenotone
whitlessoneofusthanyoudidbefore!MasterPierce,MasterPierce!ifhebe
notamaskedJesuit,thenis heaMarprelateman,aBanburyman,asnuffling,
Puritan,holybrother!Examinehim,MasterPierce!MynameisnotMull,ifhe
benotsomehowpilloryfruit—”
It seemed that they all hated a Puritan as much as a Papist. “Declare!
Declare! Are you a Banbury Saint and a Brother? Are you Reformed, a
Precisian,andaPresbyter?AreyouJohnCalvinandJohnKnox?”
ButAderholdkeptaquietforehead.“Abrothertoanyinthesenseyoumean
—no.Asaint—notI!ACalvinist?—No,IamnoCalvinist.”
“Notenough!Notenough!”
Aderhold looked at them, bright-eyed. “Then I will say that Calvin burned
Servetus. I will say that where they have had power to persecute they have
persecuted!Iwillsaythat—”
OutsidetheCapandBellsaroseagreatuproar.Whetheritwereapprentices
fighting,oranissueofgentryandsword-playwith—ineithercase—thewatch
arriving,orwhetheritwereafire,ornews,perhaps,oftheoldQueen’sdeath—
whatever it was it behooved the Cap and Bells to know the worst! All the
revellers and disputers rose, made for the door, became dispersed. Aderhold
snatchedup hiscloakandhat,laidacoinbesidetheemptymalmseycup,sent


oneregretfulglanceinthedirectionofthevolumelyingbesidethegreatbowl,
andquittedtheCapandBells.Inthestreetwasaglareoflightandthenoiseof
runningfeet.ThecrowdappearedtoberushingtowardThamesbank,sometall
buildinguponitbeingafire.Heletthemgo,anddrawinghiscloakabouthim,
turnedinthedirectionofhislodging.
Hehadnotgonefarwhenhefelthimselftouchedontheshoulder.“Notso
fast!Awordwithyou,friend!—You’veputmeoutofbreath—”
It proved to be the lawyer who had befriended him. They were standing
beforesomechurch.Wallandporch,itroseabovethem,darkandvacant.The
lawyer looked about him, glanced along the steps and into the hollow of the
porch. “Bare as is this land of grace!—Look you, friend, we know that it is
allowableattimestodothatindangerwhichwedisavowinsafety.Especiallyif
wehavegreatthingsintrust.—Imarkedyouquicklyenoughforamanwitha
secret—andasecretmoreofthesoulandmindthanofworldlygoods.Harkyou!
I’maslittleasyouoneofthemass-denyingcrewwe’veleft.What!amanmay
gointroubloustimeswiththecurrentandkeepastilltongue—nay,protestwith
histonguethathelovesthecurrent—elsehe’llhaveastilltongue,indeed,and
neitherlandsnorbusiness,norperhapsbarelife!Butwhenwerecognizeafriend
—” He spoke rapidly, in a voice hardly above a whisper, a sentence or two
further.
“You take me,” said Aderhold, “to be Catholic. You mistake; I am not. I
spokewithoutmask.”Then,astheotherdrewbackwithanangrybreath.“You
were quick and kindly and saved me from that which it would have been
disagreeabletoexperience.Willyouletmesaybutanotherword?”
“Sayon,”saidtheotherthickly,“buthadIknown—”
ThelightfromThamesbankreddeningthestreetevenhere,theydrewalittle
farther into the shadow of the porch. “I have travelled much,” said Aderhold,
“andseenmanymenandbeliefs,andmostoftenthebeliefswerestrangetome,
and I saw not how any could hold them. Yet were the people much what they
werethemselves,somekindly,someunkindly,somehateful,somefilledwithall
helpfulness.Ihaveseenmenofrarequalities,tenderandhonourablewomenand
youngchildren,believewhattomeweremonstrousthings.EverywhereIhave
seen that men and women may be better than the dogma that is taught them,
seeingthatwhattheythinktheybelieveiswrappedinalltherestoftheirbeing
whichbelievesnosuchthing.BothintheoldreligionandintheReformedhave
Iknownmanyaheroicandlove-worthysoul.Thinkaswellasyoumayofme,
brother,andIwillthinkwellofthee—andthankthee,besides,—”
“Ceaseyourheretictalk!”saidthelawyer.“IheldyoutobeofholyMother


Church—”Withsuddenness,inthedarkness,heputforthhisfootandswunghis
arm,atoncetrippingandstrikingthephysicianwithsuchviolencethathecame
to the ground with his forehead against the stone step of the church. When he
staggeredtohisfeetthelawyerwasgone.AroundhimhowledtheMarchwind
and far above the church vane creaked. He stood for a moment until the
giddinesspassed,thengatheredhiscloakabouthimand,hurryingonthroughthe
nippingair,reachedhislodgingwithoutfurtheradventure.
Thatnighthesleptwell.Thenextmorning,ashewaseatinghisbreakfast,
thatwasspareenough,heheardaloudandformalcryinginthestreetbelow.He
wenttothewindow.Acrierwasapproaching,athisheelsamobofboysandof
the idle generally. “The Queen is Dead!—The Queen is Dead!—The Queen is
Dead!—LongLiveKingJames!”


CHAPTERIII
THETWOPHYSICIANS
HE went that morning to visit the alderman, inopportune as he knew the visit
would be esteemed. But many things were inopportune—hunger, for instance.
The alderman found the visit offensively, unpatriotically inopportune. “What!
TheKing’sMajesty’sascensionday—!”ButonethingsavedAderhold,andthat
wasthepresenceinthealderman’sparlourofsomesevenoreightcronies,men
andwomen.Itwouldnotdo—itwouldnotdoforthealdermantoseemhaggling
andunwilling.Aderholdquittedthehousethericherbytwelveshillings.
Thenarrowstreetswerecrowded;everybodywasout,excitedandimportant
asthoughheorshehaddiedorbeencrowned.Thephysicianstrolledwiththe
others. The morning was fine, he felt wealthy and happy. The sunshine that
strokedtheprojecting,timberedfrontsofhouseswasthesunshineofhome,the
softandmoistlightofEngland.HelovedEngland.Hewanderedforanhouror
twohereandthereintheLondonoflessthantwohundredthousandsouls.He
wentdowntotheriverside,andsatuponastonestep,andgazedintothepurple,
broodingdistance....Atlastheturnedback,andafteratimefoundhimselfinthe
streetofhislodging,andbeforethehouse.
Itwasanarrow,poor,andgloomyplace,ownedbypeoplewhomheguessed
tohavefallenonevildays.Theplainlydressedelderlywomanfromwhomhe
hadhiredhisroomhadtoldhim,indeed,asmuch.“Aye?”saidAderhold.“Then,
mother,I’llfeelthemoreathome.”Hehadlodgedherenowtendaysandhehad
seen only the elderly woman and her son, a boy far gone in consumption who
coughedandcoughed.Thewomanwasasilent,rigidperson,witheredbuterect,
wearingacapandoverhergownofdarkstuffacoarsewhitekerchiefandapron.
This morning, when she brought him his half loaf and tankard of ale, he had
spokenwithcasualnessoftheCapandBells.Shelookedathimstrangely.“The
Cap and Bells!... Doubtless you heard good talk there.” Then had come the


crying about the Queen’s death. When he turned from the window the woman
wasgone.
Nowheenteredthehouse.Ashelaidhishanduponthestair-railthewoman
stoodframedinadoorway.“Tarryalittle,”shesaid.“Iwishtotellyouthatthis
housewilllodgeyounolonger.”
Aderholdstoodstill,thenturned.“Andwhy,good mother?Ilike my room
andthehouse.Ihavestriventobeinnowaytroublesome.”Heputhishandin
hispurseanddrewitforthwiththealderman’sshillingsuponthepalm.“Yousee
Ihavemoney.You’llnotlosebyme.”
Avoicecamefromtheroombehindthewoman.“Lethimenter,mother.We
wouldseethisfellowwhowillmakenotroubleforus.”
Aderholdnotedapaletriumphinthewoman’sstrong,linedfaceandinher
tense,updrawnfigure.“Aye,ithappenedtogivethanksfor!”shetoldhim.“Two
things happened this morning. A King came to the throne who, for all his
mother’sscarletandragingsins,hashimselfbeenbredbygodlymentogodly
ways!Andmytwosonscamehomefromoverseas!”
She turned and passed through the doorway into the room from which she
hadcome.Aderhold,afteramomentofhesitation,followed.Itwasalarge,dark
place,verycoldandbare.Here,too,wasatable,drawntowardthemiddleofthe
room, with a cloth upon it and bread and a piece of meat. Beside it, chair and
stool pushed back, stood two men—the returned sons Aderhold was at once
aware.Hehadseenbeforemenlikethesemen—Englishsectariesabroad,men
whostoodwiththeHuguenotsinFrance,andintheLowCountriesfoughtSpain
and the Devil with the soldiers of Orange. Estranged or banished from home,
lonelyandinsular,fightinguponwhattheyesteemedtheLord’sside,intheplace
wheretheyesteemedthefighttobehottest,theyexhibitedsmall,smallloveand
comradeshipforthoseinwhosecausetheyfought.Only,truly,inconventicles,
couldtheyseemtowarmtopeopleofanothertongueandhistory.Ultra-zealous,
more Calvin than Calvin, trained to harshness in a frightful war, iron, fanatic,
back now they came to England, the most admirable soldiers and the most
uncharitablemen!
The two stood in their plain doublets, their great boots, their small falling
collars.Theyweretallandhardofaspect,theonebearded,theotherwithapale,
clean-shaven, narrow, enthusiast’s face. The home-keeping son also had risen
fromtable.Hestoodbesidehismother,coughingandpressingaclothtohislips.
Thebeardedmanspoke.“Good-morrow,friend!”
“Good-morrow,friend,”answeredAderhold.


“You spoke that,” said the bearded man, “as though you were indeed a
friend,whereasweknowyoutobebutaCapandBellsfriend.”
“Idonottakeyourmeaning,”saidAderhold.“Iwouldbefriends—noman
knowshowIwouldbefriendswithmen.”
Theshavenmanspoke.“Thouhypocriticalprelate’sman!Whydidyoulet
slip to my mother that the Cap and Bells was your place of revelling and
roisteringandblackeningGodtohisface?Asif,beforewewenttothewars,the
CapandBellswasnotknownforwhatitwas—yea,andis!formymothersaith
theleopardhathnotchangedhisspotsnortheEthiophisskin—abishop-loving,
stained-glass praising, Prayer-Book upholding, sacrament kneeling, bowing,
chanting,genuflecting,verypillarandnestofprelacy!drinking-placeofallthey
who,iftheyhadtheirwickedwill,wouldgiveintothehandofruin—yea,would
pilloryandstock,yea,wouldputtotherackiftheymight,yea,wouldgivetothe
flame if they were strong enough!—the Lord’s chosen people, sole fence
betweenthislandandthefateofthecitiesoftheplain!”
“Therehavebeenbeforenow,”saidthebeardedman,“spiessentamongthe
Lord’speople,andalwayssuchhavebeenreceivedandcomfortedinthatsame
house—towit,theCapandBells!”
Theconsumptivetooktheredclothfromhislips.“Mother,mother,didInot
say,whenthemancame,thathehadastrangelook?”
“Aye,Andrew,”saidthemother,“hewentlikeamanwithaguiltyloadand
watchedhisshadow.—ButIhadyoutothinkon,andtheneedforbread,andhe
paidme,which,Godknoweth!theydonotalwaysdo.Anditcamenotintomy
head,until,beforehethought,hehadsaidthe‘CapandBells,’thathemightbe
here to spy and wring news of us—cozening us to tell reportable tales of the
Lord’sSaints!”Shestopped,thenspokeonwithahigh,restrainedpassionand
triumph.“Butnow—butnowIthinkthatthatiswhatheis!ButnowIamnot
afraid—andnowhemaygethisdeserts—seeingthatthenewKingissurelyfor
us,andthatmysonshavecomehome!”
“The new King!” exclaimed the shaven man. “The new King is an old
Stuart!Leanuponthatreedanditwillpierceyourhand!Itellthattomybrother
andtoyou,mother,andyouwillnotbelieve—”
“Timewillshow,”saidthebeardedmanimpatiently.“Timewillshowwhich
of us is right. But to-day my mother can turn out this bishop’s man, neck and
crop!Yea,andifhemurmurs—”
He made a step forward, a big-boned, powerful man, grim of countenance.
Hishandshotouttowardthephysician.


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