Winifred; or, an English maiden in the seventeenth century. By L. E. G

Front matter

"She then Bn&ttnEd lii" lips with milk tiDm the bottle. In. a few minutes the sick UMti opeii*.! l,i s eyes."' Faus *1 WINIFRED; OH, AN ENGLISH MAIDEN IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. rri L. E. G. LONDON: JOHN F, S I L A W AND C O. a I'ATERNOiTlSk EOW. CONTENTS. CHAP Pi01i I. JACK'S GHOST ..... 7 n. THE MIDNIGHT WALK . • • 33 III. MY LADY ..... 45 IV. THE CONFERENCE .... 66 V. JACK'S MISFORTUNE .... 77 VI. A NARROW ESCAPE . . . .92 Vn. FURTHER CONSULTATIONS . . .Ill VIU. THE DISGUISE . . , . 125 IX. SUNDAY ...... 135 X. THE ESCAPE . . . . .H7 XI. THE BEGINNING OF CHANGES . . 1 57 Xn. BRISTOL . . . . . .176 Xin. THE CITY KNIGHT'S FAMILY . . .188 XIV. THE BANQUET . . . . . 206 XV. THE FEVER * 224 XVI. SURPRISES ..... 270 XVU. THE PRINCE ..... 303 xvm. CONCLUSION .... .327 WINIFRED.

CHAPTER L

jack's ghost. IT was nearly two mouths after the battle of Sedgemoor, which was fought on the 6th of July, 1685, between the forces of James the Second, King of England, and those of the Duke of ilon mouth, his illegitimate nephew, who laid claim to the crown. Monmouth was without the shadow of right upon his side, and was utterly unsupport ed, save by a few political exiles and adventurers as reckless as himself. He had hoped that as soon as he landed the gentry of the western counties would flock to his standard, but in this he was mistaken. Nobody joined him but the country people, and a few prominent dissenters who were WIXIFEED. misled by their hatred of popery and their dread and dislike of the reigning king. After some weeks of aimless marching and coun ter-marching, of foolish proclamations and sense less quarrels among themselves, the forces of Mon mouth encountered those of King James upon Sedgemoor, not far from Bridgewater in Somerset shire, and were utterly defeated, though most of his raw, undisciplined troops behaved with the greatest bravery, resisting to the very last, even after they were abandoned by their leader.

Chapter II. The Midnight Walk

YOU are late, my daughter," said her mother, who stood at the door watching for her. " The sun has set and the dew is beginning to fall heavily. What has kept you so long ?" " I could not help it, mother," rephed Winifred. "I suppose you stayed to order the dame's house and cook "her supper for her," continued her mother. " I like to have you do all you can for the poor body, for she is a good woman, and old and helpless withal ; but it is not well to be out after sunset, now that the dews are so heavy, and besides it is not safe in these troublous times. But you were late in setting out, and it is something of a walk to the cottage. Come now and have your supper. Priscy has kept a bit of apple pie for you, and you shall have some clotted cream, for a treat WINTERED, So put away your basket, and sit down by the firo, for you look pale and chilly."

Winifred ate her supper in silence, and then sat still by the fire, thinking how she should contrive to tell her mother of her adventure. She knew it was time for her to go to bed, but still she lingered, watching Dame Magdalen and the maids as they bustled about, finishing up the work and making things tidy for the night. At last her mother noticed her as she sat in the corner of the wide chimney. "Come, child, why do you sit here?" said she, hastily. " You should have been in bed an hour ago. "I should like to sit up as long as you do, to night, mother." " Why, what has come over the child !" said her mother. " I should think you would be ready for your bed, after such a walk : and you are looking pale still !" she added. " Did anything frighten you, Winifred ?" " No, mother, but I should hke to sit up to-night."

"Well, have thy way for once !" said her mother. " It is not often you take a fancy, I will say that for you. See now, I have finished all, and the maids are gone to bed. I will take my knitting and sit down by the fire, and you snail teU me a tale from your favorite book." Winifred had another sort of tale to tell, but she delayed it till her mother was seated at her knitting. It was nothing unusual for Dame Magdalen to sit down by the fire with her wheel or her stocking after all the rest were gone to bed. It was thus she gained time for quiet thought over the events of the day, for disentangling domestic perplexities, and for those devotional musings which were meat and drink to her thirsty soul. Winifred saw that all the doors were shut, and then drew close to her mother's side. "Mother," said she, "I have found out what frightened Jack."

"Aye!" said her mother: "then there really was something the matter ?" " Matter enough, though there was no ghost hi the case," said Winifred, ..and she proceeded to relate, in the lowest tones, the history of her ad venture. "I knew it was dangerous, mother," sho concluded ; " but what else could I do ? I am certain he would have died if I had gone away and left him. Was I wrong?" she asked, anxiously, as she received no answer from Dame Magdalen, who had dropped her knitting and sat looking at c WINTERED, the fire. " Should I have gone on my way and left the poor gentleman to perish ?" " No, child! God forbid !" exclaimed the mother, hastily. " You acted hke a Christian, but it is a sad shame, and I cannot tell what to do. I must waken your grandfather and tell him the story, for the barley will be carted to-morrow, and then all may be discovered."

"You do not think any of the men or maids would betray the stranger, do you, mother ?" asked Winifred "I cannot tell, child. I trust not, but the times are evil, and terror makes people mean and treach erous. God forgive the rulers who put such temptations in the way of simple folk like us." " I should like to go to the American colonies, where my father was last year," said Winifred. " There is no king there, they say, and the peo ple are all of one mind." " They have their own troubles — what with the sa vages and the wild beasts, the sickness, and the hard, cold winter," said her mother. " Aye, and they have their own dissensions and quarrels too, and will doubtless have more as their numbers increase. You would not like to leave my lady at the Hall, and the parish church, and all the places you have known since you were born, for those wild hills and waters.

There are trials and temptations in all lands and in all stations ; and since it is God who sends them or permits them, He will doubtless give us grace to bear them. But I must awaken your grandfather, and then we will take counsel to gether upon this poor gentleman's case." " He is not asleep," said Winifred ; " I hear him stirring. " What is all this talking ?" asked Master Evans, putting his head out of the room next the kit chen, in which he slept. " Cannot Winifred find time to tell her fairy tales by dayhght? It is time for simple folks like us to be abed and asleep, and you know to-morrow will be a busy day." " It is no fairy tale that the poor maid has to tell this time," rephed Dame Magdalen. " Will you come to the sire, grandfather, that we may take counsel together ?" Master Evans closed his door, and presently came out, wrapped in the Indian gown which his son had brought him from the East.

He sat down and listened with earnest attention, while Winifred again related her story. " The child is uneasy, lest she should have done wrong in bringing this danger upon us," said Mag- WINIFRED. dalen, when the tale was finished ; "but, in truth, I see not what else she could have done." " Nor I," said Master Evans. " She did no more than her duty ; I must say I wish it had chanced otherwise, but it is God's will, and doubtless for the best. Where has this gallant been ever since the battle ?" "As far as I made out, he has been hiding among the poor people — fishers and gypsies and such hke — till he should find himself fit to travel ; but he was too weak to talk a great deal, and I thought best not to question him.'' " Bight ! You are sure no one saw you, Wini fred?" " Quite sure, grandfather.

You know one can see far around from the standing stones, and not a creature was in sight. But Dame Sprat guessed at once that something was the matter. She gave me one of her blankets, which she said would keep some poor creature warm. She told me she should be glad to shelter such an one if it were thought .safe for him : and I have been thinking, grandfather " ■ "Well, say on, child," said Master Evans, as Winifred hesitated ; "thy thoughts are mostly to the purpose." " I think, grandfather, that since she is willing, Dame Sprat's cottage is the best place for the stranger. You know she has no visitors but our selves, and it is a lonely place, where there are no passers-by. The dame has a small out-house where she keeps her turf and fagots. The gentleman might hide there during the day, and if pursuit came, he could flee into the waste, where he would have a much better chance of escape than where he is now.

When I go to carry the dame's meal and milk, I would carry enough for both, and no one need be the wiser." "The plan seems a good one," said Master Evans, after some consideration. " No place could be found more solitary, and the dame is as true as steel, and a wise woman besides. But who will bo his guide to the cottage, and when ? The barley rnust be carried to-morrow, if the day be at all fair, and I have bid the men be in the field by daylight. There seems to be no time." "I will guide him," said Winifred, "and to night. The moon is almost full, and there are no clouds. I will wrap myself in my gray cloak, and steal along by the hedge. No one will be abroad, and if any one should chance to see me, he will take me for a fairy," she added, smiling. " Then, WINIFRED, to-morrow I can go up to the Hall as usual, to take my lesson of Mrs. Alwright.

My lady always walks in the maze before dinner, and I can wait and speak to her there. I know the way. I have been there before to gather the rose leaves and violets for Mrs. Alwright, and if any of the servants see me, they will think me about some such busi ness." " The child is too wise for her years !" said Magdalen. " But, my dear one, I cannot have thee abroad in the lonesome fields at night, and with a stranger whom no one knows." " I think there is no danger, mother ; at least not so much as in leaving the matter till to-morrow. Nobody would harm a childlike me, especially when she came to do him a service." " Alas, poor child ! you know little of the wicked ness of this world. I could find it in my heart to wish you should never know more than now !" " And besides, dear mother," continued Winifred, in a low and reverent tone, " I have prayed to God to take care of me : and then I opened my Bible and read this verse : ' Yea, the darkness is no darkness to Thee, but the night is as clear as the day : the darkness and the hght to Thee are both alike.' So then I thought God can take care of me as well when I am alone in the fields as when I am asleep in my bed ; for all places are alike to Him : and why then should I fear, since I am abroad upon His work, and an errand of mercy ?"

" True," said her grandfather ; " I see where thy courage comes from. She is right, Magdalen ! Whatever is to be done, must be done this night, or not at all. The harvesters will be in the fields by dayhght, and some of the lads will be daring each other to gather sloes at the standing stones. Even thinking of naught but our own safety, it is the wisest course, for it will bring destruction upon us aU if the poor gentleman be found there, and it becomes known, as it will, that he has had food from us. I have a shrewd guess as to who he may be, but I say nothing." "Go then, my daughter, and may thy God aDc' the God of thy fathers go with thee," said her mother. "Since it is His will that thou shouldst run into danger, I do trust He will bring thee safo out of it." Winifred was soon wrapped up in her warm gray cloak, and with her basket well filled a second time, and with certain other matters tied up in a bundle, she set out on her lonely walk.

Magdalen watched her from the door till she could no longer WINIFRED see the little gray figure, and then with a heavy heart she went back to the kitchen, and sat down to await her daughter's return, and to pray that she might be kept from all the dangers of the way. The time passed slowly enough to the two people sitting by the fireside, and more than once did Mag dalen bitterly repent having allowed her daughter to go upon such an errand. Again and again she thought of all the perils to which the child might be exposed, whether from pixies and goblins (for Magdalen was by no means above the superstitions of her time), or from the king's soldiers, or even the stranger himself. There were but few words spoken. Magdalen was never given to very much expression, and any strong emotion was apt to shut her up within herself ; and Master Evans seemed wrapped up in his own meditations.

At last the patter of the little feet was heard upon the stones of the paved court outside the kitchen door. Magdalen could hardly give the child time to teU her story, so anxious was she to put her into a warm bed, and dose her with the hot spiced elder wine which she had kept simmering among the ashes. Winifred had succeeded perfectly. Sho found the gentleman asleep, and had with some difficulty aroused him, and made him understand her errand. He had objected at first, she said, for fear of bringing trouble upon them all, but when she had made him comprehend the true state of the case, he had gone with her, slowly and with a good deal of difficulty (for he was stiff and very lame), to the widow's cottage. Dame Sprat was easily aroused, and opened her door at once. She knew the stranger directly, and called him Master Arthur.

"Aye, aye, I thought as much !" said the farmer, nodding ; " but least said soonest mended. Go on, my child." "That is all," said Winifred, simply. "Dame Sprat welcomed him like a lady in her own hall. She would fain have had him take her bed, but he would not hear of that. He wrapped himself up in the dame's old duffel cloak and was asleep in a moment in her great chair. Then I left the basket and came home as fast as I could. I heard the church clock strike twelve as I came over the stile by our orchard, and oh, it was so cold !" said Win ifred, shivering. "Yes, I fear you are chilled through and through ! I trust you have not caught your death !" said her mother. " Come now, and let me put you to bed at once." WTNTFRED. The warmed bed and the hot spiced drink soon threw.off the chill, and in half an hour Winifred was sleeping as sweetly as though she had gone to bed with the chickens, as usual.

Chapter III My Lady

WINNIE is lazy this morning," said Jack, as he sat down to his breakfast of bread and milk in the kitchen. " It is almost six, and she is not down yet." "No," replied his mother; "Winnie is not lazy, but tired, and not very well. She was awake late last night, and I thought she had better sleep awhile this morning." " Yes, there is always some good reason for every thing that Winnie does ! " said Jack, peevishly. " I wish I could always do just right, as she doe3 ! " " I wish you could," said his mother j " but that is not the way to begin." Jack murmured something about favorites, which, however, he was very careful not to let his mother hear, and went on eating his breakfast with WINTERED, a very discontented face. The truth was, he was a good deal ashamed of his fright the evening before, and he felt vexed at Winifred for doing the errand he had been afraid to perform.

Jack knew that he was a coward, and he was ashamed of his cowardice, but instead of letting his shame lead him to the amendment of his fault, he permitted it to make him jealous of every one who was braver than himself, and especially of Winnie, who, being a girl, had, he opined, no business to go where he was afraid to venture. "I don't care!" he said to himself. "I will do something which shall show them that I am not afraid. I will climb up to the magpie's nest and bring down a pah of the young ones to tame. Win nie dare not do that, I know. I can teach the young magpies all sorts of things — even to speak, I dare say, and then I can sell one of them at the fair." The magpie's nest which Jack intended to rob was built in the top of a very high old tree, which stood not far from the farm-house.

The tree had been long dead, and the branches were as dry as tinder ; a fact of which the cunning magpie was doubtless well aware when she built her nest in the highest fork. A tame magpie is fully as entertain ing as a parrot, and Jack, with whom bird's-nesting MY LADY, vas a kind of passion, often cast longing eyes upon the nest in question. His grandfather, however, had forbidden him to go near it, not from any particular tenderness to the birds, but because tho tree was such dangerous chmbing. It was nearly eight o'clock when Winifred opened her eyes with a start, and saw her mother standing by her bedside. " Did I frighten you?" asked her mother. " No, mother — I was dreaming. I thought the soldiers had come !" rephed WTinifred. " Is it not very late?" she added, looking at the sun and starting up in alarm.

"Almost eight o'clock!" rephed her mother. " I have let you sleep as long as I dared ; but you know you have to go to the Hall to-day. You will have no more than time to dress yourself neatly and eat your breakfast. Do not forget the packet for my lady." There was no great danger of Winifred's for getting it. She had slept with it under her pillow, and a dozen times during the night she had gone over the matter in her dreams, with aU sorts of absurd and frightful incidents attached thereto. Now she was telling the secret to Lady Peckham, at the parish church, in service time, while the vicar WINTERED, stopped his sermon and all the congregation turned around to listen. Now she was in the street of Bridgewater, on a market day, irresistibly impelled to tell every one she met that the Duke of Mon mouth was hiding in Lady Peckham's closet ; and again, she found herself at the water-side in Bristol, whither she had once gone to meet her father, and all the bells of the place were ringing at once : " Tell my Lady Peckham !

Tell my Lady Peckham !" But if Winifred's dreams had been disturbed and confused, her waking thoughts were composed and collected. She had already settled her plan of operations, by the time she was dressed. She knew that Lady Peckham was exceedingly regular in all her habits, having exactly appointed hours for her devotional reading and prayers, for attend ing to her household concerns, for her still-room, where she and Mrs. Alwright prepared medicines and cordials for the sick, and perfumes and con fections for the well ; for her embroidery, and for walking in the maze or on the terrace. It was at this latter time that Winifred intended to address her. She was soon on her way to the Hall, with her little work-basket on her arm, and the precious watch and packet carefully secured in her bosom, to take her lesson in cut-work or carpet-work of MY LADY.

Mrs. Alwright, my lady's gentlewoman. As Wini fred walked along by the hedgerow or under the orchard trees, bending to the earth with their load of fruit, she sang in a sweet voice good Bishop Ken's beautiful morning hymn : " Awake, my soul, and with the sun, Thy daily course of duty run ! Shake off dull sloth, and early rise To pay thy morning sacrifice." " How beautiful it must be to be able to write such fine hymns as the good bishop!" thought Winifred. " And yet his heart must often be sad, when he sees so much evil which he cannot help. They say he shed tears when he pleaded with the chief-justice, and even with the king himself, for the poor prisoners, and aU to no purpose. No, I should not like to be in his place, or in that of any other great person, especially in these sad times. I am sure my lady and Sir Edward often look troubled and distressed, and Dame Sprat says the great Queen Elizabeth died of a broken heart for all the trouble she saw coming on the country she loved so well, and which she could do nothing to hinder.

No, I should not like to be any great per son. It is as much as I can manage, and more, to do my duty in that state of life to which it has WINTERED, pleased God to call me. But then I suppose if God puts people in high places, He will give them grace to do their duty there also, if they ask Him for it, as much as to grandfather or to me. He gives to every one according to his need. Dame Sprat told me that she has often heard her mother tell how, in Queen Mary's days, even young lads like William Huntington went to their death singing and praising God ; and they say when Dame Gaunt was bound the other day in London, she was calm as though she were going to her night's rest. I am afraid I never could be like that." And Win ifred shuddered at the thought of being brought before the terrible chief-justice, whose face and voice overcame even the boldest men, and had actually scared to death a young lady at the assizes in Tawton not long before.

It must be remembered that this was no mere fancy on her part, such as girls sometimes like to scare themselves withal. It was an event likely enough to happen, if she were found out in helping or concealing any foUower of the Duke of Monmouth. " But why should I fear ?" she continued. " If God means any such trial for me, why should I doubt that He will give me strength and grace to bear it, and take me safely through? Even if I MY LADY. 51 should lose my life, the pain will be but short, and then comes heaven, which will never, never end, where I shall see all the saints and angels, the holy martyrs who have died for the truth, and our blessed Lord Himself." Winifred's fears were gone — lost in the thoughts which now came crowding upon her. Thoughts of her heavenly home — speculations as to what it would be like, and what would be her employment there.

She often dwelt upon these realities of another world, as other girls dwell upon their air built castles, reading over and over the last chap ters of the Revelation, and everything she could find in the Bible relating to her future state, till the mansions of her Father's house in heaven seemed as real to her as the gray thatched farm house in which her days had been spent, or the old Elizabethan Hall whither she was going, and than which she had never seen anything finer. She was so absorbed in her own reflections that the mile and a half between the farm and the HaU were quickly passed over, and she almost started to find herself at the park gate. Hohord HaU was a quaint old red brick pUe, aU angles, and gables, and projecting turrets, and clustered chimneys, with a stately terrace and a D WINTERED. long elm-tree avenue where the rooks buUt, year after year.

Sir Edward had often called it bar barous and antiquated, and wished he could build it over in more modem style, but fortunately he had never been able to command money enough for such an undertaking, and so the old HaU remained as it had come down from the days of Ehzabeth. Sir Edward was a man of more cultiva tion and reading than many country gentlemen of his day. He read the " Sylvia," and corresponded with its accomplished author, Mr. Evelyn, and ho took great pride in the stately evergreens, formal clipped yews, and brilliant flower-gardens which surrounded the HaU ; and not without reason, for in those days it was no uncommon thing for a gentleman's country house to have aU the Utter of farm and stable-yard directly under its windows, whUe the only garden consisted of a few gooseberry bushes and pot-herbs, and perhaps some knots of common flowers, aU mingled higgledy-piggledy, and growing as best they could.

Winifred tripped along the terrace and across the paved court, stop ping for a moment to caress the old bloodhound, who knocked his tail against the flagstones at her approach, too lazy for any more active greeting ; MY LADY. 53 and entered the little ground-floor parlor which was Mrs. Alwright's peculiar sanctuary. Mrs. Alwright received her httle friend with her usual dignified kindness. She was a taU, thin, rather severe-looking person, very neat and prim in her dress, and more stately in her manners than my lady herself. You must not think she was at all hke an ordinary waiting-woman of these days, though she dressed her lady's hair and took care of her clothes. She was of a good famUy and re spectfully educated for those times, and her brother was vicar of the parish of Holford. Such persons in those days thought it no disgrace to take service with ladies of higher rank, and were often treated with a great deal of consideration.

Mrs. Alwright was older than her lady, and had been brought up by her mother, the old Lady Carew, who was a famous manager and housekeeper. She understood all sorts of work, plain and ornamental, and every kind of household duty, from pickling beef and pork to making the most delicate confectionery. She had taken a great fancy to Winifred from the first of their acquaintance, and she intended that the chUd should bo thoroughly taught everything she herself knew. Winifred usually enjoyed very much the hours WINIFRED. she passed by Mrs. Alwright's side in the house keeper's room, working at her embroidery or her knitting, as the case might be. She knew that the privUege was a very great one, such as few girls in her station enjoyed ; and she was anxious to make the most of her time, lest something should happen to interrupt these precious hours.

Moreover, she was very fond of good Mrs. Alwright, and loved to please her ; and she usuaUy gained great commen dation for her industry and attention. To-day, however, she was so absent-minded and set so many stitches awry in the fine cut-work band she was making, that Mrs. Alwright thought it necessary to give her a httle lecture on her carelessness. " But I am sure you are not weU !" was the sudden conclusion of her discourse. " You are as white as a hly, and have dark marks under your eyes. You shaU lay aside your work for the present, and have a glass of my rose cordial or a dose of my lady's sovereign balm, and a piece of gingerbread or saffron cake, and when you have rested, you shall read to me out of Hall's ' Chro nicle.' I have kept the mark in the book where you left off last time."