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CHAPTER III.
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FLIGHT.
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"My barque is wafted to the strand
By breath Divine:
And on the helm there rests a hand
Other than mine."
—DEAN ALFORD.
The Lady Idonia sat writing at a small table in the hall of Lovell Tower. She was the best writer in the family—which does not by any means imply extraordinary fluency of diction or rapidity of penmanship. The letters grew slowly under her hand, and she frequently paused to look out of the window and think. What lay on the desk before her was the following unfinished letter.
"Jh'u.[#]
"MY NOWEN[#] DERE CHYLDE,
Thys shal be to give you to wyt, wt[#] all louyng comendac'ons from all us, that wee well fare, and do hope in God that you be the same. And we have not yett herde so much as one word from yr sistar. Matters here bee reasonable quyett at this present, onlie that Doratie has broke y' powdre box of siluer, in good sooth a misaduenture and noe malice, wch shall be wel amended ere yow com home. The dun cowe hath a calfe of hir veraye coloure. And Lyard Carlile[#] and all the dogges fare wel. Maistres Henley hir littel lad lyethe sicke of a fevare, but the leech reckoneth he shal doe well. Dorathie ys merrie, and gode withal. Yr father thynkes to buy som pigges ayenst Xmas.[#] We shal bee fayn to here of yr newes, the rather if you can give us any tydynges of such as you wot of,[#] how they be now in men's reckonings, and if thei be lyke to fare wel or noe. The gode Lorde of his mercie kepe us all, and make vs to bee hys trew seruantes. Annis, I wold haue you, when conueniencie serue, to sende mee from London towne viij ells gode clothe of skarlette for a goune for yr moder, and so moche of greene kersay as shall be a goun for Doratie: and dowlas to lyne the same, and silke frenge to guard the skarlett goun, and fur of rabetts to guard ye grene: alsoe siluer botons iij dozen, and black botons vj dosen and halfe. And sende ye same well packed vp to the Goldene Lyon by Powles,[#] to ye name of Maister Anthanie Milborne, yt is a frend of mye broder Will, and cometh into Yorksh: thys nexte monethe. And let him that berethe ye same aske of ye sayd Maister Anthanie for a token[#] yt he hath of mee for yow. Annis, wee trust in God yt yow shal be a discrete mayd and gode, and obedyent to yowr maistres, and kyndlie wt yr fellowes.[#] And above al, my dere harte, kepe yow ye fayth yt ve have ben learned, nor let not anie man beguile you therof."