ue of the
snow, though _Mother_ hath scantly any silver amongst the gold; and Aunt
_Joyce_ well-nigh matcheth _Father_. _Hal_ and _Anstace_ be as they
were, with more childre round them. _Robin_ and _Milisent_ dwell at
_Mere Lea_, with a goodly parcel belike; and _Helen_ (that Aunt _Joyce_
counted should be an old maid) is wife unto _Dudley Murthwaite_, and
dwelleth by _Skiddaw Force_. _Wat_ is at _Kendal_, grown a good man and
wise, more like to _Father_ than ever we dared hope: but his wife is not
_Gillian Armstrong_, nor any of the maids of this part, but _Frances
Radcliffe_, niece to my Lord _Dilston_ that was, and cousin unto
Mistress _Jane_ and Mistress _Cicely_. They have four boys and three
maids: but _Nell_ hath only one daughter, that is named _Lettice_ for
_Mother_.

And _Ned_ is not. We prayed the Lord to bring him safe from that last
voyage to _Virginia_ that ever Sir _Humphrey Gilbert_ took; and He set
him safe enough, but in better keeping than ours. For from that voyage
came safe to _Falmouth_ all the ships save one, and that was the
Admiral's own. They had crossed the _Atlantic_ through an awful storm,
and the last seen of the Admiral was on the ix of _September_, Mdlxxxiii
[1583], by them in the _Hind_: and when they saw him he was sat of the
stern of his vessel, with his Bible open of his knees: and he was
plainly heard to say,--"Courage, my men! Heaven is as near by water as
by land." Then the mist closed again o'er the fleet, and they saw him
no more. On the xxii of _September_ the fleet reached _Falmouth_: but
when, and where, and how, Sir _Humphrey Gilbert_ and our _Ned_ went
down, He knoweth unto whom the night is as clear as the day, and we
shall know when the sea giveth up her dead.

His young widow, our dear sister _Faith_, dwelleth with us at _Selwick_
Hall: and so doth their one child, little _Aubrey_, the darling of us
all. I cannot choose but think never were two such sweetings as
_Aubrey_ and his cousin _Lettice Murthwaite_.

I am _Edith Louvaine_ yet. I know now that I was counted fairest of the
sisters, and they looked for me to wed with confidence. I am not so
fair now, and I shall never wed. Had things turned out other than they
have, I will not say I might not have done it. There is no blame to
any--not even to myself. It was of God's ordering, and least of all
could I think to blame that. It is only--and I see no shame to tell
it--that the man who was my one love