Then Mother and Helen came in, and no more was said.
Selwick Hall, December the fourth.
I had no time to write yestereven, for we were late abed, it being nigh nine o’ the clock ere we came up; and all the day too busy. My Lady Stafford and Sir Robert and Mistress Martin did return with Father—the which I set not down in his right place at my last writing,—and yesterday we gat acquaint and showed them the vicinage and such like. As to-morrow, Mother shall carry them to wait on my Lord Dilston.
Sir Robert Stafford is a personable gentleman, much of Father’s years; his nose something high, yet not greatly so, and his hair and beard now turning grey, but have been dark. Mistress Martin his sister (that when Mother wist her was Mistress Grissel Stafford) is much like to him in her face, but some years the younger of the twain, though her hair be the greyer. My Lady Stafford, howbeit, hath not a grey hair of her head, and hath more ruddiness of her face than Mistress Martin, being to my thought the comelier dame of the twain. Mother, nathless, saith that Mistress Grissel was wont to be the fairer when all were maids, and that she hath wist much trouble, the which hath thus consumed her early lovesomeness. For her husband, Captain Martin, that was an officer of Calais, coming home after that town was lost in Queen Mary’s time, was attaint of heresy and taken of Bishop Bonner, he lying long in prison, and should have been brent at the stake had not Queen Mary’s dying (under God’s gracious ordering) saved him therefrom. And all these months was Mistress Martin in dread disease, never knowing from one week to another what should be the end thereof. And indeed he lived not long after, but two or three years. Sir Robert Stafford, on the other part, was a wiser man; for no sooner was it right apparent, on Queen Mary’s incoming, how matters should turn, than he and his dame and their two daughters gat them over seas and dwelt in foreign parts all the days that Queen Mary reigned. And in Dutchland (Germany) were both their daughters wedded, the one unto a noble of that country, by name the Count of Rothenthal, and the other unto a priest, an Englishman that took refuge also in those parts, by name Master Francis Digby, that now hath a living in Somerset.
Medoubteth if Mother be told who Sir Edwin Tregarvon were. Milly ’bideth yet in the sulks, and when she shall come thereout will I not venture to guess. Alice Lewthwaite come over this afternoon but for a moment, on her way to her aunt’s, Mistress Rigg, and saith no word is yet heard of their Blanche, whom her father saith he will leather while he can lay on if she do return, while her mother is all for killing the fatted calf and receiving her back with welcome.
Selwick Hall, December the v.
This morrow we set forth for Lord’s Island, a goodly company—to wit, Father, and Mother, and Sir Robert and my Lady Stafford, and Mistress Martin, and Milisent, and me. Too many were we for Adam to row, and thought to take old Matthias, had not Robin Lewthwaite chanced on us the last minute, and craved leave to take an oar, saying it should be a jolly pleasance for him to spend the day on Lord’s Island. So Father took the second oar, and Adam steered, and all we got well across, thanks to God. We landed, Father gave his hand to my Lady Stafford, and Sir Robert to Mother, and Robin, pulling a face at Milly and me (for I wis well he had liever have been with us), his to Mistress Martin.
“Well, Edith,” saith Milly, the pleasantest she hath spoken of late, “I reckon I must be thy cavaliero.”
“Will you have my cap, Milisent?” saith Robin, o’er his shoulder.
“Thanks, I reckon I shall manage without,” quoth she.