“Why, for sure!” saith she. “He’s none like to send me nowhere else but where He is. Dun ye think I’d die for somebody I didn’t want?”
She saith not much else, but seemed as though she sank back into that heavy way she had afore. But at last, when we were about to depart, she roused up again a moment.
“God be wi’ ye both,” said she. “I’m going th’ longer journey, but there’s t’ better home at t’ end. May-be I shall come to th’ gate to meet you. Mind you dunnot miss, Mistress Milly. Mistress Joyce, she’s safe.”
“I will try not to miss, Madge,” I answered through my tears, “God helping me.”
“He’ll help ye if ye want helpin’,” saith Madge.
“Only He’ll none carry you if ye willn’t come. Dunna throw away good gold for dead leaves Mistress Milly. God be wi’ ye!”
We left her there—“watching the gate.”
Selwick Hall, February ye xxvi.
This morrow, as I came down the stairs, what should I see but Aunt Joyce, a-shaking the snow from her cloak and pulling off her pattens.
“Why, Aunt!” cried I. “Have you been forth thus early?”