Loveday's History by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

I ARRIVED at Holworthy farm about noon, weary enough with my journey and all the excitement I had gone through, so that I was fain to go at once to my chamber. I was really too ill to take much notice of any thing for a day or two, and my aunt was a good deal alarmed for me, but by degrees, I recovered myself, and began to sit up and to go out into the sitting-room which had been fitted up for me.

I found it full of tokens of kindness from the friends I had left behind me. There was the clavichord which I had used at Sussex House, with a pile of music books beside it, my embroidery frame, and a heap of silks, and the like, books in Latin and French, and even a box of comfits and dried fruits from old Harry Cook-so good were they all in remembering me.

I found the farmer and his wife very little changed, save that Hannah's apple cheeks were a little wrinkled by the same frost which had whitened her husband's looks. Dolly was still at home, a widow now with a sweet little boy and girl, the pets and darlings of both gaffer and gammer. Matters had prospered with this good couple, and they were rich for people in their station, but they were content with their old simple ways, and did not ape the manners of their betters as is the fashion now-a-days. You would never find Hannah Yates lying in bed till after five of the clock and putting off her dinner hour till eleven. No; she was up and stirring, and had every one else busy by four, and the dinner was on the table before the stroke of nine-master and mistress, men and maids all eating together in the great kitchen, and gathering about the same hearth in the winter evenings. Hannah would fain have served us with a separate table, but this we would by no means allow, and I think she liked us, after all, better for the refusal.

I grew stronger every day, and began to go about house and out of doors, to help feed the fowls, and to gather greens, peas and herbs for the pottage; but mindful of his Grace's words, I did never stray far from home. My aunt staid with me a week, and then returned, but I heard from her not seldom, as the Duchess sent more than once to ask for me, and never without affording Master and Mistress Davis a chance of writing or sending by the same conveyance.

As my health returned, I began to miss the constant occupation I had been used to all my life. I had often been ready to yawn my head off from sheer weariness while standing behind my mistress's chair, but at other times I had found great entertainment in listening to the conversation which went on in the drawing-room. Then I had been promoted to the place of teacher to my Lady Frances, who was a delightful companion (if I may venture to use the word of so great a young lady), as was also her governess, Mrs. Wardour. I loved Mistress Curtis like a mother, and I missed them all, not to speak of another, on whom I dared not allow my thoughts to dwell.

I was fast sinking into a state of nerves and fancies, just for the want of aught else to do, when something happened to rouse me. It was not much-only a sermon from a stranger priest who visited our own parish Sir John, and preached for him. His subject was the bearing of the cross, and he repeated for his text the words of our Lord himself:

"Yf eny man will come after me, let hym denye hym silfe, and take his crosse on hym dayly ād folowe me. " *

It did seem to me that the good man's discourse had been written expressly for me. It was as plain as a mother's talk with her children; not full of Latin, nor yet of stories to make the people laugh, like those of the preaching friars in general.

* From Tyndale's translation.

The preacher showed how each one had his cross to bear, and that not of his own choosing, but of God's. The crosses we chose for ourselves were many times but painted crosses, while those which our Father in heaven laid upon us were real-hard and sharp oftentimes, but yet capable of being made into a blessing if we did but take them up and carry them according to His will and in his spirit. Much more he said which I will not try to repeat-about the little crosses of every day, the thwarting of our plans, the fault-findings and injustice of those we are trying our best to save, and other such like trials, which might all be turned-so said the preacher-from curses to crosses, if only met in the right spirit.

It was a very plain and simple discourse as I said, but it did me a great deal of good. It made me sensible that I had been repining and fretting over my cross instead of taking it up, and that I had thus missed the blessing which I might have found even in the bitter grief which had been darkening both heaven and earth for me.

"What think you of that sermon? " said Master Yates to one of his neighbors, as they lingered at the church door for the usual greeting and gossip.

"Humph! Call that a sermon! " answered the other. "Why, there was not a bit of Latin in it, and even a plain man like me could understand every word."

"Now that was the beauty of it, to my thinking," said Master Yates. "Where is the use of a sermon that nobody understands?"

"Yes, those are your new-fangled ways. What is the use of the blessed mass; I am sure nobody understood a word of that?"

"A good many folks would like to hear that riddle solved," said a decent man who stood near.

Whereat two or three laughed, and old Master Andrews moved away, muttering angrily that it was never a good world since these new notions came into it. A fine thing, indeed, when shepherds and plowmen took on them to think about such matters.

For myself, I went home with plenty of subject for thought, and the result of my cogitations was that the next morning I offered to teach Dolly's children to read. She was very thankful for the offer, and I began with them on the criss-cross row that very day. Afterward I set myself a task of music and Latin, and even got out my Greek books, but the last I had to give up, finding myself unequal to the hard work.