"Oh, that I will, right willingly!" replied the hostess; "and 'tis but right and fitting that you should trust such matters to one who is accustomed to buy and sell, than to do it yourself, who know nothing of trade, God wot. I will have them to Westcheape, where there are plenty of fripperies; or carry them to the Lombards, who, perhaps, know more about such matters."
"I should think that the Lombards would purchase them best," answered Ella; "for one of these instruments, the viol, was purchased out of Italy, when my grandfather was chief minstrel to the great Earl of Northumberland."
"Ay, I remember the time well," said Mistress Trenchard. "Murdock Brune was a great man in those days, and rode upon a grey horse, fit for a knight. He used to pinch my cheek, and call me pretty Dolly Trenchard, till my husband was somewhat crusty;--and so the viol is valuable, you think?"
"Yes, and the ribible, too," answered Ella Brune; "for they were cut by a great maker in Italy, and such are not to be found in England."
"I will take care, I will take care," rejoined the hostess. "Gather them all together, and I will send up Tom, the drawer, for them, presently. To-morrow I will take them to the Lombards; for it is somewhat late this evening."
"Nay, but I have other favours to ask of you, dame," said Ella Brune. "To-morrow they bury the poor old man, and I must have a black gown of serge, and a white wimple; and I would fain that you went with me to the burial, if you could steal away for an hour; for it will be a sad day for me."
"That will I do, poor maiden," replied the hostess, readily; not alone because she took a sincere interest in her fair guest, but because in those days, as in almost all others, people of inferior minds found a strange pleasure in bearing part in any impressive ceremony, however melancholy. As so much of her spare time was likely to be occupied on the morrow, she agreed to run up to Cheape that very night, before the watch was set, and to purchase for Ella Brune the mourning garments which she required. The latter commission she performed fully to the poor girl's satisfaction, returning with a loose gown of fine black serge, ready made, and a wimple and hood of clear lawn, little differing from that of a nun.
Ella gazed on the dress with some emotion, murmuring to herself,--"Ay, the cloister; it must end there, at last!--Well, prayer and peace!--'tis the calmest fate, after all."
But the sale of the instruments of music, and several other small articles, was not executed quite as well. Men were rogues in those times, as at present, though, perhaps, in the improvement of all things, roguery has not been neglected, and the good Lombards took care not to give more than half the value of the goods they purchased. Neither Ella nor good Mistress Trenchard herself knew any better, however; so that the latter thought she had made a very good bargain, and the former was content. Her store was by this means considerably increased; and, a short time before the appointed hour, Ella, with the hostess, set out towards the hospital of St. James, for the sad task that was to be performed that day.
I will not pause upon the hours that followed. Dark and sorrowful such hours must ever be; for the dim eyes of mortality see the lamp of faith but faintly, and there is nought else to light our gaze through the obscure vault of death to the bright world of re-union. Put the holy promises to our heart as eagerly, as fondly as we will, how difficult is it to obtain a warm and living image of life beyond this life! How the clay clings to the clay! How the spirit cleaveth to the dust with which it hath borne companionship so long! Strange, too, to say, that we can better realize in our own case the idea of renewed existence, than in the case of those we love. It is comparatively easy to fancy that we who have lived to-day, shall live to-morrow;--that we, who lie down to rest ourselves in sleep and to rise refreshed, shall sleep in death, and wake again renewed. There is in every man's own heart a sentiment of his immortality, which nothing can blot out, but the vain pride of human intellect--the bitterest ashes of the forbidden fruit. But when we see the dearly loved, the bright, the beautiful, the wise, the good, fall, like a withered leaf, into the dark corruption of the tomb--the light go out like an extinguished lamp--and all that is left, all that has been familiar to our living senses, drop into dust and mingle with its earth again, the Saduceean demon seizes on us; and it requires a mighty struggle of the spirit, prayer, patience, resignation, hope, and faith, to win our belief from the dark actuality before us, and fix it on the distant splendour of a promised world to come.