Andrew Golding: A Tale of the Great PlagueKeeling, Anne E.
General
Andrew Golding: A Tale of the Great Plague
Keeling, Anne E.
Plague -- England -- London -- Fiction
And the evening before our departure he brought to us a strange
attendant indeed, but one who proved most trusty. It was a poor fellow
of the village, who had once been in service at Lacy Manor; but the
young Squire hated him, and got him turned away in disgrace, after which
no man would employ him, and he fell into great wretchedness. But Andrew
came across him, and not only relieved his distress, for he was almost
dead for hunger, but put him in a way of living on his own land. So,
partly for love of Andrew, and partly from true conviction, poor Will
Simpson, so he was called, turned to the Quaker way of thinking. I do
not know if he was acknowledged as a proved Friend, he had some odd
notions of his own. But he showed himself a peaceable, industrious
fellow, and he loved Andrew as a dog might love a kind master that had
saved it from drowning. Indeed there was something very dog-like about
honest Will. Without having any piercing wit, he had a strange sagacity
at the service of those he loved; and his dull heavy face sometimes
showed a great warmth of affection, making it seem almost noble. When
Matthew told him wherefore he was wanted, he was all on fire to go. He
left his hut, and work, and woodman's garb, Matthew having got him a
plain serving-man's suit, in which he looked still a little uncouth; and
thus he came eagerly to us and begged to be taken with us. Then with no
escort but this poor fellow, who, however, knew the road well, and was
strong and sturdy, we set forth on our way up to London, bidding adieu
to none in West Fazeby, as the Standfasts had advised. I believe it was
supposed in the village that we were gone to Mr. Truelocke.
CHAPTER IX.
HOW WE WENT UP TO LONDON, AND FOUND NO FRIENDS THERE.
I hoped little from the first plan on which Althea relied for obtaining
Andrew's release. Her trust was in Mr. Dacre, since he was a great
courtier, and she thought his influence might avail to get one poor
Quaker set free.
'I shall not get his help for nothing,' said she; 'that were an idle
hope. But I know his expenses to be very great, out of proportion to his
means; so if I bring a heavy purse in my hand to interpret between him
and me, I am sure of a kind and favourable hearing.' She was almost gay
while she dwelt on this plan, and it furnished the most of our talk on
the first day or two of our journey.
It was very hot summer weather, a little sultry; yet travelling would
have been pleasant enough had our minds been easy, which they could not
be. It was hard to go fast enough for Althea, Will having to make her
understand it was small wisdom to hurry our horses beyond their
strength; then she went sighing out,--
'Oh for a horse with wings! or could one only ride on the speed of fire!
It will be a week, I dare swear, before we see St. Paul's,' and she
grudged herself time to eat and sleep.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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