’And yet the Bible tells us to "rejoice always," good neighbour,’ said Mr. Aylett. ’Is it right to deprive others of joy when God has taken ours from us? Is not this somewhat selfish grief, and displeasing to God?’ ’It is my whim, Mr. Aylett. I cannot feel like Job, for when I see the lads a-merrymaking I think of my poor Harry’s goodly countenance, and my heart seems like to break.’ ’The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away,’ said Mrs. Fenn gently--’so I tell Mr. Fenn; but such an ado I have to be a-comforting him that sometimes I forget my own sore grief. It’s a wonder I ever lived through that time; and now when I sit in a quiet coigne I fancy I’m another woman and in truth not Harry’s mother. At this harvest-time I think of the new doublet I had always ready for him, and how handsome he looked. Lack-a-day!’ ’Tut, tut, woman!’ said her husband, who liked to think his grief was the greatest, ’the lad was more to me than to thee. You know how he would follow me about when he could but just toddle. Ay, ay, Mr. Aylett, you too know what he was like. It was a sight to see him riding about the farm; and now there’s no one of my name as will inherit this place. And as for my cousin who has an eye to the place, i’ faith he’s but a poor creature--ay, a paltry ass.’ ’The Lord can bring back your boy,’ said the clergyman, with a quiet assurance that appeared to be galling to the yeoman. ’I said naught to the contrary, Mr. Aylett; but there’s a sight of things that the Lord could do as never happen in this world; and my boy’s dead--I know it; and meseems, in truth, it’s folly thinking on it longer.’ ’’Tis much lacking in faith, good Mr. Fenn, that you are. For my part, I believe Harry will come home, and----’ But here the keener-witted mother started up and called out: ’Mr. Aylett’s heard news of Harry! Speak out, sir, or this old heart will break; for my head feels dizzy. Speak out, sir, for God’s sake!’ And Mr. Aylett now saw that he had sufficiently prepared the old people for the joy that he had to tell them, and, standing up reverently, he said: ’Ay, ay, good friends, God’s name be praised! Harry is safe and sound, and has a long and wonderful story to tell you.’ ’But where is he--oh, my boy! my boy! You’re not deceiving me, Mr. Aylett, else God have mercy on you!’ ’God forbid! Harry is in my house--brought here by a Captain Carew himself; and with him is come an English maid who was a fellow-prisoner in the West Indies. But I must tell no tales, and I bade him follow me anon--and, ay, look you, there he is, so I’ll leave you to hear his own story, and go back to the maid, to whom my wife has taken a huge fancy already, for there is as much sunlight in her eyes as there is gold in our autumn corn; and, indeed, hers is as strange a history as you could find even in tales of our Chaucer.’