United States or Guinea ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Let there not be no mistake, I do entreat you." "I'll see to it," said Wastborowe, as he left the prison. The prisoners had few preparations to make. Each had a garment ready a long robe of white linen, falling straight from the neck to the ankles, with sleeves which buttoned at the wrist.
Mr Ewring had to pass four weary hours in the dungeon before it pleased Wastborowe to let him out. He spent it in conversing with the other prisoners, all of whom, save Agnes Bongeor, were arrested for some crime, and trying to do them good. At last the heavy door rolled back, and Wastborowe's voice was heard inquiring, in accents which did not sound particularly sober,
"I'm not going." Wastborowe took up his jug, went to the cellar, and drew the ale for himself, in a meek, subdued style, very different indeed from the aspect which he wore to his prisoners. He had scarcely left the door when a shrill voice summoned him to "Come back and shut the door, thou blundering dizzard! When will men ever have a bit of sense?"
"I'll tell you what: you'd best ask Audrey Wastborowe; she's a bit of a gossip, and I reckon she knows everybody in Colchester, by name and face, if no more. She'll tell you if anybody can." The Bailiff stepped across the court, and rapped at the gaoler's door. He was desired by a rather shrill voice to come in. He just opened the door about an inch, and spoke through it.
Our Father is come too: God is with us, and thus it is all right." "Marry, these heretics beareth a good brag!" said Wastborowe the gaoler to his man.
"Nay, that stands to reason if it were so, Master Ewring; but, trust me, I know not what you mean, no more than if you spake Latin." Well, Hiltoft?" "Wastborowe says you may see Mistress Bongeor if you'll give him a royal farthing, but he won't let you for a penny less. He's had words with their Audrey, and he's as savage as Denis of Siccarus."
Come in, and I'll see if Wastborowe's in a reasonable temper, and that hangs somewhat on the one that Audrey's in." The porter shut the gate behind Mr Ewring, and went to seek Wastborowe. Just then Jane Hiltoft, coming to her door, saw him waiting, and invited him to take a seat. "Fine morning, Master." "Ay, it is, Jane. Have you yet here poor Johnson's little maid?"
"Is he angry, Father?" asked Cissy, looking up. "I said nothing wrong, did I?" "There's somewhat wrong," responded he, "but it's not thee, child." Meanwhile Wastborowe was crossing the court to his own house, jug in hand. Opening the door, he set down the jug on the table, with the short command, "Fill that." "You may tarry till I've done," answered Audrey, calmly ironing on.
And he read over the list. "Elizabeth Wood, Christian Hare, Rose Fletcher, Joan Kent, Agnes Stanley, Margaret Simson, Robert Purcas, Agnes Silverside, John Johnson, Elizabeth Foulkes." "Got 'em all save that last," said Wastborowe, "Who is she? I know not the name. By the same token, what didst with the babe? There were three of Johnson's children, and one in arms."
"Please, Mr Wastborowe, we mustn't expect to be taken better care of than the Lord Jesus; and He had to suffer, you know. But it won't signify when we get to Heaven, I suppose." "Heretics don't go to Heaven!" replied Wastborowe. "I don't know what heretics are," said Cissy; "but every body who loves the Lord Jesus is sure to get there.
Word Of The Day