It seemed, therefore, as though no creature mourned for Anne Grey beyond a few of her dependants. The gulf had opened, and the fair, gentle, loving girl had disappeared from sight: and then it had closed again, and the world was dancing over it, and she was forgotten as though she had not been. Frideswide Marston was one of those few who wore mourning for her in their hearts. She had lived in her household only for three months, but she had been her immediate and favourite attendant, and had learned to love her. Now that phase of life was over, and Frideswide was preparing to return home. There was a good deal of shopping to be done first, for Frideswide meant to bring her trousseau from London; and accompanied by one of Lady Anne's ushers, she went to and fro to West Chepe, where the mercers and haberdashers congregated; Guthrum's Lane (afterwards corrupted to Gutter Lane) where the goldsmiths dwelt; Lombard Street, the habitat of drapers; St. Mary Axe, where the furriers were found; and Cordwainer Street, where the shoemakers lived. Of course she visited Paternoster Row for a new rosary and copies of the Psalter and Gospels in Latin; purchased a pair of pattens in Pattens Lane; and, as the most acceptable present she could carry to her stepmother, bought a sugar-loaf, weighing twenty pounds, price twenty-six shillings and eightpence, from the druggist in Soper's Lane. A handsome piece of scarlet cloth—the most esteemed material for a dress[#]—was also procured for Lady Margery, at a cost of eight shillings the yard: and twelve yards—a very handsome quantity—of black satin of Bruges, to make a gown for the Lady Idonia. For her father she provided a hat in the newest fashion, small, round, edged with fur, and adorned with a single ostrich feather, small but full, which was fastened by a jewelled button. Ladies never wore feathers in the fifteenth century. The present for Agnes was a gold chain, which cost two pounds; and—a far more precious article—a silver cramp-ring which cost nothing. But it had been solemnly consecrated, as was done every year, by her on whom Frideswide looked as the rightful and only Queen of England; and no one who wore it could possibly be troubled with cramp. For a ring which owed its value to the touch of "Dame Bessy Grey," Frideswide would not have paid a halfpenny, nor would Agnes have deigned to soil her fingers by wearing it. What she should bring for Dorathie was a matter of severe reflection to Frideswide. She would have liked a parrot: but parrots were not only rare and costly, but scarcely portable articles. A mirror would not find favour with the authorities, as likely to foster vanity in the immature mind of youth. Her final choice was a silver girdle-clasp and a primer. The latter was not a book from which to learn reading, as we should suppose, but rather a collection of elegant extracts, chiefly of a religious cast. Primers varied in price from about a shilling to fifteen shillings, according to size and binding; and were put forth by authority, containing such things as were considered proper for the people to know.
[#] Writing about this time, Lady Fasten assures her husband that she would prefer his return home to a new gown, "yea, though it were of scarlet."
Frideswide's purchases were at last complete, and her bags packed. Comparatively few boxes were used, when all luggage had to be carried on the backs of mules or galloways. She was to leave London on the first of June, escorted as far as St. Albans by one of her late Lady's ushers. Here she was pretty sure to fall in with a train of pilgrims to Newark or Whitby, or possibly with a convoy of merchants going to York. On the last evening, it occurred to her that she might as well take with her a few ells of fringe to trim the dresses, as they would pack in no great compass, and would doubtless be of better quality than such as could easily be procured at Lovell Tower. Calling the usher to attend her, she went out to the nearest mercer's in West Chepe. The fringe was soon bought, and she was turning homewards, when her attention was roused by a young man who kept walking close behind them. Taking the bull by the horns, Frideswide said at once,—
"Would you have speech of us, Master?"
"If your name be Marston, that would I," was the answer: "but pray you go a little farther, for we shall come anon to a dark passage where there is more conveniency for talk."
Guessing in an instant that the young man was entrusted with some message for her ear only, Frideswide followed his directions, when he said,—
"Mistress, there is one would speak with you ere you leave London—one that you knew of old time."
"Man or woman?"
"Man."
"What manner of man?" Frideswide was cautious.