'Andrew,' says I, 'and the image of his danger; you made a frightful picture of it, dear madam, do you know?'
'Ah, set a thief to catch a thief!' says Aunt Golding, and I felt glad to hear her laugh once more; 'my love-passages are of too ancient a date to serve me, it seems, but yours are fresh and new, my Lucy. But what of Andrew? is Althea dear to him?'
'More dear than he knows, or she guesses,' quoth I; at which our good aunt laughed again, but then said,—
'It's a thing that would have pleased me well, had I been told that it would happen a year ago, but now I see nothing but trouble in it. There would be no equal yoke there, my Lucy. Whatever extravagances Andrew hath fallen into, the love of Christ runs through all he does and thinks. And canst thou say the like of thy sister?'
'Not yet,' I murmured, but Aunt Golding heard me, and said,—
'Ay, well spoken, Lucy; we will remember that when we pray.'
After this, Aunt Golding had a long conference with Matthew Standfast, whom she despatched in pursuit of Andrew, that he might furnish him with money and warn him to keep away from the Grange for a season. And after much trouble, Matthew found him, somewhere on the road to York; when it cost him still more pains to lead his young master into compliance with the prudent courses enjoined on him.
'He talked much,' said Matthew, 'of the honour of suffering for the truth, and how he must not be the vile coward to refuse it. And I had never been able to beat him away from that, but for the excellent counsel of one that was riding with him; I think he was a Quaker also, for he could talk with Master Andrew in his own dialect.'
'What manner of man was he?' said our aunt.
'I can hardly tell,' said Matthew; 'he had a piercing eye, I wot, and a voice as clear as a bell; very neat and seemly he was in his attire, and yet he might have been a ruffling cavalier if one judged by his hair, which he wore long and curled.'