Loveday's history : $b A tale of many changesGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
Loveday's history : $b A tale of many changes
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
Great Britain -- History -- Tudors, 1485-1603 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Reformation -- Fiction
How I longed to ask her if these words were from the Evangel. But even
had I dared to put such a question to her, there was no time, for the
portress came in haste to say that a stranger in the parlor desired to
speak with the lady, and with Mistress Loveday Corbet, if it might be
allowed.
"Fine doings, indeed, if strange men are to come to our house and ask
to see a postulant, and that not even on a visiting day," grumbled the
poor old woman. "Fine doings, indeed!"
"You forget, my poor sister, that we have no longer a house," said the
prioress, sadly. "Did the gentleman give his name?"
"That he did, reverend mother," answered the portress. "No man comes
into this house without giving his name while I am portress, though I
died the next minute. But this seems a worthy man and civil—a merchant
of London, I should say, as mine own honored father was, and he was an
iron-monger in East Cheap."
"All this time you are not giving me the gentleman's name," said the
prioress, while I was burning with impatience I dared not show.
"I did not say a gentleman, reverend mother, but a merchant, which he
says his name is John Davis," answered the portress, coming at last to
the matter in hand. My heart sank for a moment, for I thought it might
be mine uncle, but it rose again as I considered that Master Davis had
probably heard of what had befallen us and had come to seek for me.
So it proved. John Davis looked just as I remembered him, only older.
He was a grave and reverend man, with silver hair and beard, a polished
demeanor, and more of the scholar in his aspect than one would have
expected of a silk mercer. But Master Davis had dealt in far other
wares than silks and damask in his day, and had made his profit of them
as well.
He greeted the lady with as deep a reverence as though she had still
been at the head of one of the best houses in the country—perhaps a
little deeper—and proceeded to open his business. He had heard, he
said, of the misfortune which had befallen the house, in common with
many others, and he had come to find the niece of his old friend and
take her to his own home. Then turning his cap in his hand, with some
appearance of embarrassment, he adverted to another matter. Heaven had
blessed him, he said, with abundant wealth. He should esteem it a favor
if the lady would accept a small sum at his hands to help those of the
family who were without means or friends.
"You are very kind, sir," said the prioress. "You do not then think
that all convents are the sinks of iniquity that they have been
represented of late."
"No, madam; I believe they are like all human institutions, both good
and bad being mixed up in them."
"But you think, perhaps, they are as well out of the way."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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