"See the new edition of the Statutes at Large, published under the careful revision of Joseph Jobson, Gent., Clerk of the Peace," said Miss Vernon.
"Also, and above all," continued Jobson,—"for I speak to your warning—you, Diana Vernon, spinstress, not being a femme couverte, and being a convict popish recusant, are bound to repair to your own dwelling, and that by the nearest way, under penalty of being held felon to the king—and diligently to seek for passage at common ferries, and to tarry there but one ebb and flood; and unless you can have it in such places, to walk every day into the water up to the knees, assaying to pass over."
"A sort of Protestant penance for my Catholic errors, I suppose," said Miss Vernon, laughing.—"Well, I thank you for the information, Mr. Jobson, and will hie me home as fast as I can, and be a better housekeeper in time coming. Good-night, my dear Mr. Jobson, thou mirror of clerical courtesy."
"Good-night, ma'am, and remember the law is not to be trifled with."
And we rode on our separate ways.
"There he goes for a troublesome mischief-making tool," said Miss Vernon, as she gave a glance after him; it is hard that persons of birth and rank and estate should be subjected to the official impertinence of such a paltry pickthank as that, merely for believing as the whole world believed not much above a hundred years ago—for certainly our Catholic Faith has the advantage of antiquity at least."
"I was much tempted to have broken the rascal's head," I replied.
"You would have acted very like a hasty young man," said Miss Vernon; "and yet, had my own hand been an ounce heavier than it is, I think I should have laid its weight upon him. Well, it does not signify complaining, but there are three things for which I am much to be pitied, if any one thought it worth while to waste any compassion upon me."
"And what are these three things, Miss Vernon, may I ask?"
"Will you promise me your deepest sympathy, if I tell you?"