“‘And so He leadeth them unto the haven where they would be,’” softly saith Mistress Martin.
“Ay, it makes all the difference who leads us when we pass through the waters,” answereth Aunt Joyce. “I mind Anstace once saying that. Most folks (said she) were content to go down, trusting to very shallow sticks—to the world, that brake under them like a reed; or to the strength of their own hearts, that had scantly the pith of a rush. But let us get hold with a good grip of Christ’s hand, and then the water may carry us off our feet if it will. It can never sweep us down the stream. It must spend all his force on the Rock of our shelter, before it can reach us. ‘In the great water-floods they shall not come nigh him.’”
“May the good Lord keep us all!” saith Mother, looking tenderly on us.
“Amen!” saith Aunt Joyce. “Children, the biting cold and the rough walking shall be little matter to them that have reached home.”
Selwick Hall, March ye xiii.
“Walter,” saith Father this even, “I have had a letter from my Lord of Oxenford.”
“You have so, Sir?” quoth he. “But not an answer to yours?”
“Ay, an answer to mine, having come down express with the Queen’s Majesty’s despatches unto my Lord Dacre of the North.”
“But, Aubrey, that is quick work!” saith Aunt Joyce. “Why, I reckon it cannot be over nine days sith thine were writ.”
“Nor is it, Joyce,” saith Father: “but look thou, I had rare opportunities, since mine went with certain letters of my Lord Dilston unto Sir Francis Walsingham.”