A Book of Quaker Saints

than blue-eyed Cecily, the old huntsman's granddaughter. Cecily's parents were both dead, and she lived with her grandfather in one of the twin lodges that guarded the Manor gates. Old Thoma

rocession,-a tall, erect, soldierly-looking man, though his hair was decidedly grey, and grey too

and, indeed, possessed of considerable property in her own native county of Yorkshire, she was attached to

urefoy, the heir, a tall, handsome boy, came in first, leading by the hand his dainty little sister Jocosa, who s

, were all the rage at Court at this time, and accompanied their masters and mistresses everywhere, even to church, where-fortunate beings-they were allowed to

her portrait and make a picture of her himself in this same costume, with its stiff, straight, shining skirt, tight bodice, pointed lace collar, and close-fitting transparent cap that covered, but could not hide, the waves of dark crisp hair. When Cecily discovered that a string of pearls was clasped round the other little girl's neck, she gave a long gasp of delight, a gasp that ended in an i

instance, the Weaver's son, who was staring straight before him as usual, paying not the smallest heed to the entrance of all these marvellous beings. Fancy staring at the marble tomb erec

time so piercing and yet so far away. She could not see his features clearly, since the sun, pouring in through a tall lancet window behind him, dazzled her eyes. Yet, even through the blurr of ligh

rincess but a contrite little girl who a

y 'I was hot and they were juicy. Then, when you and my father crossed the bridge on our way to church and asked

ot to be trusted to tell the truth! For the cherries, they are a small matter, I ga

r. 'I know,' she said, 'it was shameful.

thout a punishment; only remember thy name and take better heed of th

h,' stammered the little girl. 'That be

ent in those days), Joyce could not explain how it was, that, as the glance from those grave boyish eyes f

forgot that Sunday, o

ain. The next glimpse was even more fleeting than their appearance in church, just a mere flash at the lodge gates as Jocosa and her brother cantered past on their way out for a day's hunting. Old Thomas, sitting in his arm-chair in the sun, looked critically and enviously at t

-dress and fur tippet, and a long red feather in my hat, and go a-hunting on old Snowba

tween the bars and looked wistfully along the straight road, carried on its hig

id the man-servant grimly. No more hunting for Snowball that day. The best that could be hoped was that she might be able to carry her little mistress's light weight safely home, at a walking pa

er breaks and the floods are out, there will be no leaving the

ed slowly by the same road over which the ponies

their direction after all. Sure enough, a speck of ruddy brown was to be seen slinking along beneath a haystack in the distance. Already

for Edward. The brush might

w him. Not without a shade of remorse for deserting his little mistress, the man-servant obediently gave Snowball's bridle to Joyce, and set spurs to his horse. Then

, over which she was perpetually tripping. Therefore, looking down over the hedgeless country for someone to help her, it was with real relief that she caught sight of a tall youth close at hand, in a pa

iously in difficulty, and was, moreover, a very little lady still, in spite of her peremptory tones, he changed his mind. Striding slowly towards her, he rather reluctantly closed the book he had been

orily, on both sides, skipping along, with glancing footsteps, as she tried to keep up with her companion's longer paces, and at the same time to remember why this tall

n by a cherry-tree with a few late leaves upon it, crimsoned by the first tou

ame. You are Righteous Christer the Weaver's son, and you are called George, like my father.

under the cherry-tree. The gentle whirr of the l

ong time ago, the last time we were here, on Sund

interest. 'Very like.' His eyes wandered from the thatched roof of the cottage

, not a steeple-house,' she corrected. 'Of course it ha

d absorbed in a world of his own, tho

heard Priest Stephens speak of you to my father,' she went on, with a little pin-prick of emphasis on each wor

at once. 'What said the Pr

not-unless he was thinking of the proverb of certain plants that grow apace,' she added malic

Weaver's son, and with Snowball obviously damaged, had hobbled to meet them in spite of his rheumatics. Close at hand was Cecily, brimful of excitement at the sight of her fairy prince

son, and thanks for your aid,' said Jo

ght. 'Mayest thou verily fare well,' he said, almost with solemnity, and then, withou

crossed the moat in front of the Manor House. 'I did not like him; in fact I rather disliked him-

istful eyes, as Joyce busily searched her pockets for a few stray crumbs with which to feed the swans in the moat. The scarlet riding-dress, glossy tippet, and scarlet feather in

air maiden, indeed,' a voice was saying, in low, polished tones. The next moment the sound of her own name made the girl look up. There, coming towards her, at the very top of the flight of shallow stone steps that led

anger with him! What an unlucky chance

ce made haste up the stone steps, to greet the two gentlemen with t

Joyce dropped her lowest, most formal, curtsey, as the stranger bowed low over her hand. To curtsey at the edge of a flight of steps, and in a clinging riding skirt, was an accomplishment of which anyone might be proud. Was the stranger properly impressed? He appeared grave enough, anyhow, and a very splendid figure in his suit of sky-blue satin, short shoulder cape, and pointed lace collar. He was a strikingly handsome man, of a dark-olive complexion, with good features, a

gan Joyce bravely, her co

may be November by the calendar, but here it is high summer ye

mes Maiden's Blush, Queen of all the Roses' he went on, in a teasing voice. Then, turning

ce the mocking tone stole into his voice she felt that she hated him, and looked round hoping to escape. Sir Everard was too quick for her. In that instant he had managed to posses

new Joyce suddenly woke up within her, a frightened, angry Joyce, who wanted to run away and hide. All her new-born dignity vanished in a moment. Scarcely waiting for her father's amused permission: 'There then, maiden, haste to thy mother: she has

g the colours of the silks that lay in their varied hues close under her hand. Why, then, had this skilful embroideress deliberately threaded her needle with a shade of brilliant blue silk? Why was she carefully using it to fill in a lady's cheek without noticing,

Joyce was in her arms, pouring out the whole history of the morning. By this time S

t wherefore comes he here? I thought I liked him, until he kissed my hand and laughed a

anyone on the terrace below. Then, taking Joyce on her knee as if she had been still a child, she explained to her that the stranger, Sir

yet to be a Maid of Honour as thou wert in thy girlhood

thy hand in marriage for his nephew and ward, the young Viscount Danvers, whose property marches with ours. Moreover, seeing that the times are unsettled, her Majesty hath signified her pleasure that not

ndless court curtseys and endless mocking strangers swam before her eyes, and prevent

French fashion of youthful marriages, and is bent on the scheme. She says, with truth, that thou must needs have a year or two's educa

ious thing, but to be sent back, a bride, for a year

-to-be as she thought of the alarming future. Yet she woke up, laughing, in the morni

ion took place. But, after all, the bridegroom was one of the least important parts of the wedding: far less important than the Prince of Wales, who led her out to dance, and whom she much preferred: far less important also than the bridegroom's cousin, Abigail, a bold, black-eyed girl who took country-bred Joy

able employment of making samplers, which had just been introduced. But when, in a short time, the Civil Wars broke out, their peaceful world collapsed like a house of cards. The 'position' of the young Vis

t home maimed for life. His days at Court and camp were over. Summoning his wife to nurse him, he returned to his est

s strong points, and, though she did her best, time often dragged, and she mourned the cruel fate that had cast her lot in such

ng couple had not a neighbour of theirs, of much influence with the Protector, one Justice Hotham,

er husband while he remained with her. Judge then of the good Justice's distress, when, one fine day, a note was brought to him from his wilful neighbour to say that she could bear

Joyce had entrusted her confidential letter. This was a certain blue-eyed Cecily, now a tal

ley is she, sayest thou? And thou art to join her there? Hie thee after her then, and delay her at

ill I will do my best,' was her only answer to the Judge; while 'It would take an angel to stop her! May Heaven find one to do

o, seeing that the day was the Sabbath, and therefore scrupulously observed without doors in Puritan Beverley, strolled through the Minster, meaning to make sport of the congregation and its ways thereafter. The sermon was long and tedious, but it was nearing its end as

t of the flood of sunlight, awoke in her the memory of that long ago Sunday of her childhood, of her theft of the che

t of years of self-pleasing, a heavier burden than any childish finery. Certainly reached she was, though Lady Darcy preserved through it all her cynical smile, and made sport of her friend's earnestness. Nevertheless Lady Darcy went to France alone. Lady Danvers returned to her husband-too much accustomed to be left alone, poor man

smoothing back the wavy hair from the wilful, lovely

e up in Beverley Minster: it preached to us of the wonderful things of God

ery word she spoke. Joyce never knew that the angel who had again enabled her to keep her 'Faith pure' was no stranger to her. Neither did it occur to him,

son the first moment she saw him at the inn door; Cecily who had found in him, also, the mess

says in h

cher, Christ Jesus. The power of the Lord was so strong that it struck a mighty dread among the people. The Mayor came and spoke a few words to me, but none had power to meddle with me, so I passed out of the town, and the next day went to Justice Hotham's. He was a pretty tender man and had some experience of God's workings in his heart. After some discourse with him of the things of God he took me into his closet, where, sitting together, he told me he had known that principle these ten years, and was glad that the Lord did now send his servants to publish it abroad among the people. While I was there a gr