"Like Abraham of old," she saith, "to the land which God shall show me. If I could serve my dear master,--the lad that once lay in mine arms--by tarrying hither, I could bear much for his sake. But now can I do nought: and soothly I feel as though I could not bear to stand and look on. I can pray for him any whither. Cicely, this will go on. Man that setteth foot on slide shall be carried down it. Thou mayest choose to take or let be the first step; but oft-times thou canst not choose touching the second and all that be to follow. Or if thou yet canst choose, it shall be at an heavy cost that thou draw back thy foot. One small twinge may be all the penalty to-day, when an hour's deadly anguish shall not pay the wyte to-morrow. Thou lookest on me aswhasay, What mean you by this talk? I mean, dear heart, that she which hath entered on this road is like to pursue it to the bitter end. A bitter end it shall be--not alone to her. It means agony to him and all that love him: what maimer of agony God wot, and in His hand is the ell-wand to measure, and the balances to weigh. Lord! Thou wilt not blunder to give an inch too much, nor wilt Thou for all our greeting weigh one grain too little. Thou wilt not let us miss the right way, for the rough stones and the steep mountain-side. Thou hast trodden before us every foot of that weary road, and we need but to plant our steps in Thy footmarks, which we know well from all others by their blood-marked track. O blessed Jesu Christ! it is fair journeying to follow Thee, and Thou leadest Thy sheep safe to the fold of the Holy Land." I mind her words well. For, woe is me! they were nearhand the last that ever I heard of her. "Dame," said I, "do you bid me retreat belike?" "Nay, daughter," quoth she, and smiled, "thou art no longer at my bidding. Ask thine husband, child." So I told Jack what my mother had said. He sat and meditated thereon afore the fire, while I made ready my Christmas gown of blue kaynet guarded with stranling. [Note 6.] "Sissot," saith he, his meditation ended, "I think Dame Alice speaks wisely." "Then wouldst thou depart the Court, Jack?" said I. "I? Nay, sweet heart. The young King hath about him no more true men than he needeth. And as I wait at his _coucher_, betimes I can drop a word in his ear that may, an' it please God, be to his profit. He is yet tender ground, and the seed may take root and thrive: and I am tough gnarled old root, that can thole a blow or twain, and a rough wind by now and then." "Jack!" cried I, laughing. "`A tough gnarled old root,' belike! Thou art not yet of seven-and-thirty years, though I grant thee wisdom enough for seventy."