“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 the Lord 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 not too bold?”
“Why, I came to see Bridget’s childre. I have bidden these four months gone with Jack Carden. And being so nigh ye all, I thought I would never 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 sisters from their girlhood.
“Nigh, Mistress Philippa!” exclaimed Barbara in surprise. “What, from Cheshire hither!”
Philippa laughed merrily. “Marry come up, Bab! thou hast not dwelt seven years in Calais, as I have, and every yard of lawn for thy partlets 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 be served, (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 preceding conversation. “And how goeth it with the child, tell me, Orige? She is not yet wed, trow?”
“Not yet,” replied Lady Enville, with her soft smile. “I shall ne’er be astonied if she wed with Arthur Tremayne. ’Twere a very fair match, and he is good enough for Clare.”