When she recovered, her head was on Catherine's arm, and the honest half of the family she had invaded like a foe stood round her uttering rough homely words of encouragement, especially Giles, who roared at her that she was not to take on like that.
"Gerard was alive and well, or he could not have writ this letter, the biggest mankind had seen as yet, and," as he thought, "the beautifullest, and most moving, and smallest writ.""Ay, good Master Giles," sighed Margaret feebly, "he was alive.
But how know I what hath since befallen him? Oh, why left he Holland to go among strangers fierce as lions? And why did I not drive him from me sooner than part him from his own flesh and blood? Forgive me, you that are his mother!"And she gently removed Catherine's arm, and made a feeble attempt to slide off the chair on to her knees, which, after a brief struggle with superior force, ended in her finding herself on Catherine's bosom.Then Margaret held out the letter to Eli, and said faintly but sweetly, "I will trust it from my hand now.In sooth, I am little fit to read any more-and-and - loth to leave my comfort;" and she wreathed her other arm round Catherine's neck.
"Read thou, Richart," said Eli: "thine eyes be younger than mine."Richart took the letter."Well," said he, "such writing saw Inever.A writeth with a needle's point; and clear to boot.Why is he not in my counting-house at Amsterdam instead of vagabonding it out yonder!""When I came to myself I was seated in the litter, and my good merchant holding of my hand.I babbled I know not what, and then shuddered awhile in silence.He put a horn of wine to my lips."Catherine."Bless him! bless him!"
Eli."Whisht!"
"And I told him what had befallen.He would see my leg.It was sprained sore, and swelled at the ankle; and all my points were broken, as I could scarce keep up my hose, and I said, 'Sir, Ishall be but a burden to you, I doubt, and can make you no harmony now; my poor psaltery it is broken;' and I did grieve over my broken music, companion of so many weary leagues.But he patted me on the cheek, and bade me not fret; also he did put up my leg on a pillow, and tended me like a kind father.
"January 19.- I sit all day in the litter, for we are pushing forward with haste, and at night the good, kind merchant sendeth me to bed, and will not let me work.Strange! whene'er I fall in with men like fiends, then the next moment God still sendeth me some good man or woman, lest I should turn away from human kind.
Oh, Margaret! how strangely mixed they be, and how old I am by what I was three months agone.And lo! if good Master Fugger hath not been and bought me a psaltery."Catherine."Eli, my man, an yon merchant comes our way let us buy a hundred ells of cloth of him, and not higgle."Eli."That will I, take your oath on't!"
While Richart prepared to read, Kate looked at her mother, and with a faint blush drew out the piece of work from under her apron, and sewed with head depressed a little more than necessary.
On this her mother drew a piece of work out of her pocket, and sewed too, while Richart read.Both the specimens these sweet surreptitious creatures now first exposed to observation were babies' caps, and more than half finished, which told a tale.
Horror! they were like little monks' cowls in shape and delicacy.
"January 20.- Laid up in the litter, and as good as blind, but halting to bait, Lombardy plains burst on me.Oh, Margaret! a land flowing with milk and honey; all sloping plains, goodly rivers, jocund meadows, delectable orchards, and blooming gardens; and though winter, looks warmer than poor beloved Holland at midsummer, and makes the wanderer's face to shine, and his heart to leap for joy to see earth so kind and smiling.Here be vines, cedars, olives, and cattle plenty, but three goats to a sheep.The draught oxen wear white linen on their necks, and standing by dark green olive-trees each one is a picture; and the folk, especially women, wear delicate strawen hats with flowers and leaves fairly imitated in silk, with silver mixed.This day we crossed a river prettily in a chained ferry-boat.On either bank was a windlass, and a single man by turning of it drew our whole company to his shore, whereat I did admire, being a stranger.Passed over with us some country folk.And an old woman looking at a young wench, she did hide her face with her hand, and held her crucifix out like knight his sword in tourney dreading the evil eye.