SAD news! A courier came from home last night with the mournful tidings that my Lord's little son seems to be failing fast, and begging us to hurry home as quickly as possible, that they may have the benefit of my mother's counsel. Alas, poor little boy! I can see that my mother has little hope of finding him alive, from the account which Master Ellenwood writes of his state. Jasper Ellenwood, who hath been bred a physician in the best Dutch and Paris schools, is at the Court night and day, but he gives little encouragement.
We leave to-morrow. Joyce is quite heart-broken at leaving Mistress Grace, to whom, since their quarrel, she hath greatly attached herself, and bestows some of her tears also upon a beautiful young Spanish cat * which Cousin Joslyn hath bestowed on her. Father says she may take it home if she can get one of the men to carry it. The choughs, her other pets, she leaves with Cousin Joslyn to be taught to speak.
* What we now call a tortoise-shell—then a mighty rarity.—D. C.
[CHAPTER XXXV.]
Aug. 5.
HERE we are at home again, safe and sound, having made the journey in less than three days. The poor babe is alive, and that is all. My Lady is like a ghost so pale, wasted and woe-begone; but keeps up for the sake of her husband and child. I see my mother has great fears for her.
Aug. 12.
My mother being so much at the great house, Joyce naturally falls to me. She has been put to sleep in the little green room which opens into mine, and sits with me every morning doing her task in the hornbook and in sewing and spinning. She takes to the use of her fingers readily enough, but is sadly dull at her book. Master Ellenwood, whom I consulted, advised me to give her pen and ink and let her imitate the letters, and I think we shall get on better. She is so good and tries so hard, that I cannot for very shame get out of patience with her. In the afternoon we take long walks and rides with Master Ellenwood or Harry for escort, or go to see the sick folk in the village.
The babe still lingers, but we have no hope of his life. My Lord is like one distracted, but more I think for the mother than the child. He depends for everything on Richard, and can hardly bear to have him out of sight; so we see little of Dick. He will be the next heir if this poor boy dies, unless there are others. The prior said as much to him the other day, adding "that 'twas an ill wind," etc., (a fine speech for a Churchman). My father said Richard's brow grew black, but he answered courteously: