She paused a moment, and then, absently winding and unwinding an end of slea-silk round her finger, she saith in a faltering voice, "Isoult, I think my Lazarus is going away."

I knew what she signified. I could but say softly, "Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus."

"I had no comfort else," she said. "And if Martha might have died also, methinks it had been the easier to bear. Surely it must cost less to them that go home to God, than to the desolate souls who stay behind."

True," said I; "it must be easier to go home to Christ's presence than to dwell here, unseeing Him, and bereaved of other. But He knoweth that, sweet heart, as well as we."

She was silent, and I repeated softly a canticle of Saint Bernard's hymn

"Ah, Isoult!" quoth Frances, shaking her head sorrowfully, "all the music is passing away from my life, with the light. And at this moment I cannot look forward to the blessedness beyond; only to the long dark journey which shall soon lie between me and my beloved. It hath come all at once. This is not one sorrow only; it is many. Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and He will take Benjamin away. All these things are against me.""

"But bethink thee, dear heart," answered I, "that at the very instant moment when old Facob said that, all

1"I know not, oh I know not

What joys await us there,

What radiancy of glory,
What bliss beyond compare."

-Neale's translation.

those self things were working together for him, yea, as urgently as God Himself could make them. Canst thou not trust His tenderness which died for thee?"

"I cannot go to Him, Isoult," she said. "I cannot so much as look up at Him. I am not ready to do and bear His will. I am a rebel against Him, my King. And while that lasteth, how can I bring Him a submissive and obedient heart?"

Darling Frances," I answered, "wilt thou not take Him thine unsubmissive and disobedient heart? If thou wait to grow that plant of obedience by thine own working and watering, I fear thou wilt be over-late of coming. Shall I mind thee of George Bucker's saying, in a sermon which thou and I did hear together? 'Thou hast nought, O soul (quoth he) to bring unto God save Christ and thyself; and there is nothing save Christ and thyself that He will take from thee. And it is not thy good self, thy whole self, thy strong self, that He would have. It is thy sick, weak, ill and sinful self which thou must bring to Him. And between this self of thine and God nothing must stand save Christ; and He is not a wall to shut out, but the door to open and enter in.' Or shall I tell thee of a better and sweeter word than any word of George Bucker? Come unto Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden.' He saith not, all ye that are obedient and submissive. Dear heart, here is no condition, save only the weariness, and the coming."

CHAPTER IX..

UNDER A CLOUD.

"Jesus is our Shepherd, wiping every tear;
Folded in His bosom, what have we to fear?
Only let us follow whither He doth lead,
To the thirsty desert, or the dewy mead."

-REV. HUGH STOWELL.

Enfield, Christmas Day, Ao Dni MDXE. WE-to wit, Anne and I—be moved hither to spend the Christmas season, at my Lady of Rutland's desire. And much merry-making is there all about: nathless, we two be but heavy and unmirthsome. For at this season of last year we were so different; and who knoweth what next year shall bring? And I sit and marvel how it is with my dear master, and if he feeleth the change very sorely, this lone Christmas Day in the Tower; and I feel for the little silver chain about my neck, with a flower of turkis thereto hung, which was his last New Year's Gift. Then I pass to my Lady, and her Christmas, as lone as his. And then I go higher, and think of the angels, and how they keep our Lord's birthday in Heaven; and how through His deathless ages, He shall ever remember those xxxiij years when He dwelt among us poor caitiffs on this weary and woful earth. And I think how He loveth-so dear, that to see one poor soul Turquoise.

1

fall a-praying is enough to cause Him call together all the angels, and bid them make merry and rejoice. And when I am so far, I call to mind all which I know, and all that ever I love, and ask His blessing upon every one of them; and above all, that one blessing which shall cause that gathering together of the angels, for them each and all.

And so my mournful and desolate-feeling Christmas endeth, as a feast should, in peace.

Hampton Court, January ye xxj. Anne Basset (I sorry to write it) is again weakly and crazed; and the chirurgeons did say unto her afore that the best remedies for her sickness were air and walking; and the King's Grace's physician doth now (strange to say) avise her to change the air. 'Tis mighty strange he should so do; for at my coming unto London, Father was marvellous feared that the change of air should be hurtful unto me; and I have many times heard Mother say that the same was right unwholesome, and had cost some their lives to her knowledge. And at my going to Calais, she writ unto me to keep me well within doors certain days after mine arriving thither, and not to breathe the strange air afore I had well proved the same; which, however, I had no chance for to do, my Lady sending me forth. And soothly I myself have never found the same to do me hurt. But many times, when I was a little maid, hath Mother told us children to be ware of change of air and of time of diet, instancing for the first the Lord Lionel of Clarence, son to that mighty and noble Prince, Edward ye Third, who, marrying a lady of Milan, in Italy, was persuaded to go over thither, and the change of the air did kill him a vj months thereafter: and for the second, King Lewis

of France, surnamed the good King Lewis, which marrying the Lady Mary's Grace, our King's sister (that was after wife unto my Lord Duke of Suffolk) did, to please this, his young wife, change the hour of his dinner from xj of the clock to j in the afternoon, and whereas he had been used to be abed by vij of the clock at night, did now sit up until ix or x; and (about the time Hal was born) he died within some few weeks.

Howbeit, 'tis now resolved (the Queen's Grace having given leave) that Anne shall go into Devon for a season, so soon as the weather shall be meet for journeying; so she goeth to my Lady Grenville of Stow, her cousin, to make some stay with her and I, parting from her at Okehampton, to mine own dear Wynscote, there to abide.

a season.

Windsor Castle, February ye vij.

Thus far are we on our way, and are for this night lodged in the King's Highness' Castle, by his gracious leave. We shall traverse the same road that I came by, now over iij years gone; but ah me! I feel truly xxx years elder rather than three, sithence I left home.

The King's Grace hath made a right bountiful allowance unto us—to wit, one shilling the day for Anne her victualling, and ij shillings for horses and travelling charges. At this rate we shall live like queens on our journey.

Okehampton, Saint Chad.'

Thus far are we arrived, for the roads be yet somewhat evil. To-morrow we shall (God allowing us) be at Wynscote, where at mine entreaty Anne shall abide and take her rest for a day or twain, ere she set forth thence for Grenville Court.

1 Mar. 2.