“Is he so? I’m right glad.”
“Ay, they say—Bartle it was told a neighbour of mine—he’s held firm till the priests were fair astonied at him; they thought they’d have brought him round, and that was why they never burned him. He’ll come forth now, I guess.”
“Not a doubt of it. There shall be some right happy deliverances all over the realm, and many an happy meeting,” said Mr Ewring, with a faint sigh at the thought that no such blessedness was in store for him, until he should reach the gate of the Celestial City. “Good den, Jack.”
They drove in at the North Gate, down Balcon Lane, with a passing greeting to Amy Clere, who was taking down mantles at the shop door, and whose whole face lighted up at the sight, and turned through the great archway into the courtyard of the King’s Head. The cat came out to meet them, with arched back and erect tail, and began to mew and rub herself against Dorothy, having evidently some deeply interesting communication to make in cat language; but what it was they could not even guess until they reached the kitchen.
“Sure,” said Dorothy, “there’s somebody here beside Barbara. Run in, my dears,” she added to the children. “Methinks there must be company in the kitchen, and if Bab be all alone to cook and serve for a dozen, she’ll be fain to see me returned. Tell her I’m come, and will be there in a minute, only I’d fain not wake the babe, for she’s weary with unwonted sights.”
Little Helen had fallen asleep in Dorothy’s arms. Cissy and Will went forward into the kitchen. Barbara was there, but instead of company, only one person was seated in the big carved chair before the fire, furnished with red cushions. That was the only sort of easy chair then known.
“Ah, here they are!” said an unexpected voice. “The Lord be praised! I’ve all my family safe at last.”
Dorothy, coming in with little Helen, nearly dropped her in astonished delight.
“Mistress Wade!” cried Mr Ewring, following her. “Truly, you are a pleasant sight, and I am full fain to welcome you back. I trusted we should so do ere long, but I looked not to behold you thus soon.”
“Well, and you are a pleasant sight, Master Ewring, to her eyes that for fourteen months hath seen little beside the sea-coals (Note 1) in the Bishop of London’s coalhouse. That’s where he sets his prisoners that be principally (note 2) lodged, and he was pleased to account of me as a great woman,” said Mrs Wade, cheerily. “But we have right good cause to praise God, every one; and next after that to give some thanks to each other. I’ve heard much news from Bab, touching many folks and things, and thee not least, Doll. Trust me, I never guessed into how faithful hands all my goods should fall, nor how thou shouldst keep matters going as well as if I had been here mine own self. Thou shalt find in time to come that I know a true friend and an honest servant, and account of her as much worth. So you are to be my children now and henceforth?—only I hear, Master Ewring, you mean to share the little lad with me. That’s right good. What hast thou to say, little Cicely?”