"God grant it!" said she. "One thing I know, that the religious houses and orders are growing less and less in favor with the people. Your convent yonder is of the best, and gives much in charity, nor did I ever hear of scandal within its walls as long as I have lived near it; yet if it were put down to-morrow, as some of the small houses have already been, I do not believe a hand would be raised in its defence."
[This proved true enough afterward. When the convent was put down, a few years later, and my husband purchased the lands and what remained of the buildings, he was fain to set a watch to keep the common people, who in the days of its prosperity had lived on its alms, from stealing the very leads and woodwork. Yet our house was one of the best—free from gross scandal, and always spending a great part of its large revenue in almsgiving. The truth is that the convents, by this very almsgiving, did engender and encourage about them a kind of idleness and careless living, which are the very parents of all ill—a basilisk brood, ready to devour their mother.]
As we whiled away the time with such discourse, John Dean once more made his appearance, and signified that all was ready. I found myself very weak and stiff when I tried to move, but the hope of soon meeting my husband gave me strength, and I was able to accomplish the scramble up the bank to the place where the donkey was tethered. Right glad was I to reach the good man's cottage, and to lay my wearied limbs on his bed. Here I again fell into a deep sleep, or rather lethargy, from which I was wakened (oh, blissful wakening!) by my husband's voice and embrace. The good old herd had sallied forth once more, made his way to my father's house as the nearest place, and came in upon the assembled family with the news that the lost was found!
That evening found me safe in my father's house, which I had thought never to see again. At first my Lord and my father were for keeping no terms with my abductors. They should learn that in these days a lady of family was not to be carried off in that high-handed way. But by degrees calmer counsels prevailed. It was thought that for their own sake my persecutors would keep quiet, specially as they would doubtless believe me to have perished in the flames: but the accusation of heresy was an ugly thing, and might be revived at any time. After due consideration, it was thought best that Richard and myself should for the present retire to this our estate of Tremador, where, surrounded by our own dependants, and with no religious house near to spy upon us, we might think ourselves safe till those at home should see how matters would turn.
Hither then have we come, bringing with us for sole attendant Magdalen Jewell, to whom I owe more than life. She is my own personal attendant, while Grace rules the household, as usual. 'Tis a kind of exile, to be sure, yet a most calm and happy one. I am recovering my health, which was sorely shaken by my fatigue and exposure, and hope soon to go about the house and to take some order about the dame school, which our good Father Paul so much desires.
The story goes at home among our servants and neighbors, that I was really taken by pirates and then abandoned on the waste, in some great danger, from which I was rescued by John Dean and Magdalen, and we do not contradict the tale. My mother writes me that the shrine of St. Ethelburga was all consumed, save the bare walls, and also the sheds of fuel and the offices. The main building also was much injured, but was saved.
I know not how long we shall remain here, but I am quite content, though we have no society but our own and Cousin Joslyn's. The estate is large, and Richard can find enough to do, so that time shall not hang heavy on his hands, and we have a constant resource in the study of God's word. I can't but hope the time will come when we may return home without danger, but meantime I am quite content.
[CHAPTER XLIII.]
Stanton Court, May 12, 1590.