e talked withal this even."

And having so spoken, Agnes waited quietly for the tempest.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE SHADOW BEFORE.

"Oh for the faith to grasp Heaven's bright For Ever,
Amid the shadows of earth's Little While!"

_Jane Crewdson_.

Sheer amazement kept Mistress Winter silent for one moment after Agnes
had made her startling revelation. That her bondslave should have dared
to dream of freedom was almost too preposterous for belief. And she was
powerless to stop this most insubordinate proceeding; for, never
anticipating such a calamity, and not fond of spending money, except on
herself and her daughters, she had not, as she might have done, bound
Agnes her apprentice. But after that minute of astonished silence, a
thunderstorm such as even Agnes had never before experienced, burst upon
her devoted head. If Mistress Winter might be believed, no such
instance of rebellion, perversity, ingratitude, and all imaginable
wickedness, had ever before occurred since Adam and Eve quitted
Paradise. Agnes was asked to what she expected to come in this life,
and where she expected to go after it. When Mistress Winter became
weary of scolding, which was not soon, Joan took up the tale, and when
she was tired Dorothy succeeded, and as all were gifted with
considerable powers of speech, the ball was kept going until bedtime.
Then Agnes was allowed to creep to her coarse rug and bundle of straw,
feeling herself in peace at last.

Thenceforward there was not much peace left, at least in the day-time.
Having been interrogated as to the name and calling of her suitor, Agnes
was at once dubbed Madam Dominic, my Lady's Grace of Blackfriars, and
various similar titles. Dorothy, clasping her hands in mock rapture,
falsely averred that she had foreseen this delightful ending to the
story, when she caught sight of Agnes and Friar Laurence talking at the
Cross; and proceeded to give an ironical description of the Friar's
personal charms, sufficiently spiced to be very amusing to her mother
and sister, and just sufficiently seasoned with truth to be exceedingly
galling to Agnes. Henceforth she took every opportunity to play
ill-natured practical jokes on the latter. It was not likely that Agnes
would particularly enjoy having shreds of dirty flannel and linen flung
into her lap, with a tittering remark that they would enrich her
trousseau; nor feeling, when she sat at needlework, a rotten egg gently
broken over her