The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages by Charles Reade
CHAPTER LXXXVI
The Hearth
THE next day, Sunday, after mass, was a bustling day at Catherine'shouse in the Hoog Straet. The shop was now quite ready, and Cornelis andSybrandt were to open it next day; their names were above the door; alsotheir sign, a white lamb sucking a gilt sheep. Eli had come, and broughtthem some more goods from his store to give them a good start. Thehearts of the parents glowed at what they were doing, and the pairthemselves walked in the garden together, and agreed they were sick oftheir old life, and it was more pleasant to make money than waste it;they vowed to stick to business like wax. Their mother's quick and everwatchful ear overheard this resolution through an open window and shetold Eli. The family supper was to include Margaret and her boy, and bea kind of inaugural feast, at which good trade advice was to flow fromthe elders, and good wine to be drunk to the success of the converts toCommerce from Agriculture in its unremunerative form,--wild oats. SoMargaret had come over to help her mother-in-law, and also to shake offher own deep languor; and both their faces were as red as the fire.Presently in came Joan with a salad from Jorian's garden.
"He cut it for you, Margaret; you are all his chat; I shall be jealous.I told him you were to feast to-day. But oh, lass, what a sermon in thenew kerk! Preaching? I never heard it till this day."
"Would I had been there then," said Margaret; "for I am dried up forwant of dew from heaven."
"Why, he preacheth again this afternoon. But mayhap you are wantedhere."
"Not she," said Catherine. "Come, away ye go, if y' are minded."
"Indeed," said Margaret, "methinks I should not be such a damper attable if I could come to't warm from a good sermon."
"Then you must be brisk," observed Joan. "See the folk are wending thatway, and as I live, there goes the holy friar. Oh bless us and save us,Margaret; the hermit! We forgot." And this active woman bounded out ofthe house, and ran across the road, and stopped the friar. She returnedas quickly. "There, I was bent on seeing him nigh hand."
"What said he to thee?"
"Says he, 'My daughter, I will go to him ere sunset, God willing.' Thesweetest voice. But, oh, my mistresses, what thin cheeks for a youngman, and great eyes, not far from your colour, Margaret."
"I have a great mind to go hear him," said Margaret. "But my cap is notvery clean, and they will all be there in their snow-white mutches."
"There, take my handkerchief out of the basket," said Catherine; "youcannot have the child, I want him for my poor Kate. It is one of her illdays."
Margaret replied by taking the boy upstairs. She found Kate in bed.
"How art thou, sweetheart? Nay, I need not ask. Thou art in sore pain;thou smilest so. See, I have brought thee one thou lovest."
"Two, by my way of counting," said Kate, with an angelic smile. She hada spasm at that moment would have made some of us roar like bulls.
"What, in your lap?" said Margaret, answering a gesture of thesuffering girl. "Nay, he is too heavy, and thou in such pain."
"I love him too dear to feel his weight," was the reply.
Margaret took this opportunity, and made her toilet. "I am for thekerk," said she, "to hear a beautiful preacher." Kate sighed. "And aminute ago, Kate, I was all agog to go: that is the way with me thismonth past; up and down, up and down, like the waves of the Zuyder Zee.I'd as lieve stay aside thee; say the word!"
"Nay," said Kate, "prithee go; and bring me back every word. Well-a-daythat I cannot go myself." And the tears stood in the patient's eyes.This decided Margaret, and she kissed Kate, looked under her lashes atthe boy, and heaved a little sigh.
"I trow I must not," said she. "I never could kiss him a little; and myfather was dead against waking a child by day or night. When 'tis thypleasure to wake, speak thy aunt Kate the two new words thou hastgotten." And she went out, looking lovingly over her shoulder, and shutthe door inaudibly.
"Joan, you will lend me a hand, and peel these?" said Catherine.
"That I will dame." And the cooking proceeded with silent vigour.
"Now, Joan, them which help me cook and serve the meat, they help me eatit; that's a rule."
"There's worse laws in Holland than that. Your will is my pleasure,mistress; for my Luke hath got his supper i' the air. He is diggingto-day, by good luck." (Margaret came down.)
"Eh, woman, yon is an ugly trade. There, she has just washed her faceand gi'en her hair a turn, and now who is like her? Rotterdam, that foryou!" and Catherine snapped her fingers at the capital. "Give us a buss,hussy! Now mind, Eli won't wait supper for the duke. Wherefore, loiternot after your kerk is over."
Joan and she both followed her to the door, and stood at it watching hera good way down the street. For among homely housewives going out o'doors is half an incident. Catherine commented on the launch; "there,Joan, it is almost to me as if I had just started my own daughter forkerk, and stood a looking after; the which I've done it manys and manysthe times. Joan, lass, she won't hear a word against our Gerard; and, behe alive, he has used her cruel; that is why my bowels yearn for thepoor wench. I'm older and wiser than she; and so I'll wed her to yonsimple Luke, and there an end. What's one grandchild?"