And, indeed, considering the whole affair calmly in my chamber, I did not wish to help it. I was convinced that I had done right in relieving Master Davis of my maintenance. I also felt sure of a faithful friend and counselor in Mistress Curtis. I was charmed with my new master and mistress, and saw no reason why I need not be happy in serving them. I had a little my doubts of my companion in waiting, Mistress Mandeville. I thought she looked prim and formal, but I would not allow myself to be set against her beforehand.
Yes, I believed I had acted wisely, and was content to leave the result of my action in the hands of Him whom I had learned to consider my best friend. I knew I should always have the Davis family and Margaret Hall to fall back upon, if I needed such support. They had already done for me more than I could ever repay, were it only in bringing me to a knowledge of the Scriptures. Margaret, especially, had opened to me a great new world of thought, which could never be closed again, happen what might.
Surely God had been very good to me, though for so many years I had never learned to love Him—never thought of Him if I could help it, and then only as one to be dreaded and propitiated if possible, and who, if I only made myself uncomfortable enough, might perhaps be won at least not utterly to destroy me. Let those testify who know by their own experience, what a change is made in the life when God's love is shed abroad in our hearts.
But I must hasten on to my tale. 'Tis the nature of old folk to be garrulous, and I find I am no exception to the rule, especially when I have a pen in my hand.
Just a week from my first visit to Suffolk House, I betook myself thither, accompanied by Mistress Davis, and followed by one of the men bearing my bundles. My great mail was to come later in the day. I remember St. George's clock was just striking nine as we passed near it, and I saw a poor woman, whom I knew at once had been a religious of some kind, standing under the porch. I had some loose silver in my pocket, and I could not forbear putting a couple of groats into her hand. She started and colored, and then thanked me eagerly, and turned quickly away. In a moment more, we saw her enter a baker's shop close by.
"Poor thing, did she not look hungry?" said Mistress Davis. "You have given her one good meal, at all events."
"She is, or rather has been, a religious," said I. "I am sure of it."
"Very like, very like! I must try and speak with her when I come back. Theirs is a hard fate, poor souls!"
"Yes, they do not all fall into such warm nests as I did!" I could not help saying, whereat she squeezed my hand lovingly.
I heard afterward that she saw the woman, and finding her clever with her needle, she got her work that made the poor sister very comfortable. Helping one out of the hundreds who were in need, was like helping one fly when hundreds are drowning, yet is it altogether better for that one fly than if you were to leave him to drown too.