"You acted for the best, my love!" said my mistress. "Come, Curtis, don't stand there like the figure of woe in the pageant, but bestir yourself to get things together for our march. We are all in God's hands, and let Him do what He will it will be best."
Mr. Batie forgot himself for once. He caught his wife in his arms, kissing her, weeping over her, and calling her his suffering angel, his poor hunted darling. He was all himself in a moment, and looked a little ashamed, but I liked him all the better.
Well, Mistress Curtis set herself to pack up what was most needed, and I to getting supper, for as I said our only maid was away at some family festival. I took occasion to be seen going in and out, about the supper. I even made an errand to a neighboring shop where we often bought provisions, and finding some good butter, I bought enough to last a week.
John Symonds was to stay behind till early morning and then join us.
All the time I was busy I kept saying to myself. "Wesel, Wesel, what do I know about Wesel?" I don't think my head had ever been quite right since my great shock, and my memory played me sad tricks.
We sat down to supper for the last time in our snug little house. Every body there closes shutters at dusk, which was lucky for us. Mistress Curtis's eyes were red with weeping, but my mistress was calm and cheerful as a summer morning; and she took her supper with a good appetite. Mr. Batie looked a man who was holding himself with all his force, and as for me, I can only say that all my strength was bent to the determination of serving my mistress and saving her if possible. We had prayers after supper, and in all my life I never heard any one pray like Mr. Batie. He put new life and courage into us all, and into himself, too, for when he rose his face had lost its set, hard look, and was calm and pleasant as ever.
When the little Dutch time-piece in the corner struck eight we prepared to be gone. The night was as black as any night can be when there is snow on the ground, which was all the better for us, of course. We went down the little garden and out at the back gate. The keeper of the town-gate let us pass without a question, wishing us God speed, and then began our trial.
Oh, what a miserable walk that was. The ground was only half-frozen, and the road was rough and miry, for we dared not take the well-traveled highway. A half-melted snow was falling, which blew in our faces, and clung to our garments. Mr. Batie went first, with his wife leaning on him, and Mistress Curtis and I followed, carrying each a bundle, and supporting each other as best we could. The dear woman was growing old and not so strong as she had been.
"To think of the Duchess of Suffolk in such a plight," she sighed. "Wandering in the snow like a gipsy wife. What would the Duke say to see her creeping along in this dark night with no one to lean on but Mr. Batie?"
I could hardly help laughing.