he green chamber, with Aunt
_Joyce_ for her waiting-maid, for none other will she have to enter--not
even _Mother_, for her one talk with _Blanche_ hath sore distressed her.

"Wait a while, _Lettice_," saith Aunt _Joyce_: "I will bid thee when I
reckon any good should come of it."

_Milisent_ hath been told, and seemeth much touched therewith: but none
of us have yet seen _Blanche_. Poor heart! may the good Lord have mercy
upon her!

SELWICK HALL, JANUARY YE XII.
_Mother_, and I with her, went up this morrow to _Mere Lea_, to do
Mistress _Lewthwaite_ to wit touching _Blanche_. We found her right
busy a-making of pies, and _Alice_ by her paring of apples. She gave us
good welcome, and we sat us down, and talked a short while of other
matter. Then saith _Mother_:--

"Suffer me to ask at you, Mistress _Lewthwaite_, if you have heard ever
any news of _Blanche_?"

Mistress _Lewthwaite_ shaked her head sorrowfully.

"Nay, not we," saith she. "It should be a good day we did. Albeit, her
father is sore angered: yet methinks if he did verily stand face to face
with the child, he should not be so hard on her as he talks now."

"Then I hope the good day is coming," saith _Mother_. "For methinks,
neighbour, we have heard somewhat."

Mistress _Lewthwaite_ left her pastry of the board, and come up to
_Mother_.

"Eh, Lady _Lettice_, what have you heard? Tell me quick, now!"

"My poor heart, I saw her last night."

"Where is the child?"

"With us, at _Selwick_ Hall. _Joyce_ found her, wandering about, and
hiding in copses, and she brought her in."

"And what hath happed, Lady _Lettice_?"

"We have not asked her."

"Not asked her!" saith Mistress _Lewthwaite_, in manifest amazement; and
_Alice_ looked up with the like.

"We know," saith _Mother_, "but such matter as it hath liked her to tell
us: the which is, that she was wed to this gentleman of a _Popish_
priest, which as you know is not good in law: and that after she had
bidden with him but a fortnight, they quarrelled, and he left her."

"Ah, she ne'er had a good temper, hadn't _Blanche_," saith her mother.
"Well, poor heart! I'll not quarrel with her. We're all sinners, I
reckon. The lass may come home when she will, for all me; and I'll do
mine utmost to peace her father. We haven't so much time o' this world,
nor so much happiness, that we need wrangle and make matters worser."

For Mistress _Lewthwai