CHAPTER IV.

THE CONFERENCE.

IT was, as we have seen, nothing unusual for Winifred to be employed by Mrs. Alwright in gathering flowers and herbs for the still-room, so that Lady Peckham was not at all surprised at meeting her in the shrubbery, or maze, as it was then called.

"Well, Winifred, are you helping Mrs. Alwright, to-day?" asked Lady Peckham, kindly. "She tells me you are making great progress with your work, and she is intending to teach you to do carpet-work. But you are not looking well, sweetheart?"

"I am quite well, my lady, but—" Winifred glanced around, and, seeing no one near, drew close to Lady Peckham, and said in a low voice: "I have a message and a token for you, my lady."

"And if you have, why did you not give them to me before?" asked Lady Peckham, in some displeasure. "Or why did not you send them to me by the hands of Mrs. Alwright?"

"Because I was to put them into your own hands, and when no one was by," answered Winifred, modestly but firmly. "It is a matter of life and death, my lady!"

"Winifred, what do you mean?" asked Lady Peckham, surprised and somewhat startled. "You know, little one, I am not to be trifled with."

For all reply Winifred drew the watch and the packet from her bosom, and placed them in Lady Peckham's hands.

The lady looked at the watch, and turned so pale that Winifred, alarmed, expected her to sink to the ground.

"Who gave you this?" she asked, in a hoarse whisper.

"If you please, my lady, it is a long story, and some one might be within hearing, or listening behind the hedge," replied Winifred, in a low tone.

"You are right!" said Lady Peckham, recovering herself with a great effort. "Come with me."

Winifred followed her benefactress through the garden and along the terrace till they came to a little door in the bottom of one of the many turrets which adorned the front of the Hall. Lady Peckham opened the door with a key which she drew from her pocket, and led the way up a winding stone stair lighted with narrow windows, and into a little chamber where Winifred had never been before. It was very bare of furniture, having only a table, chair, and footstool, with a small Persian rug on the floor before the table, upon which lay a large Bible and one or two other volumes. A couple of shelves well filled with books hung against the wall, which was decorated with two or three pictures, one of which Winifred recognized at once as a portrait of the wounded cavalier who lay concealed at Dame Sprat's cottage.

"Wait for me here!" said Lady Peckham, and went out, shutting the door after her.

Winifred waited for what seemed to her a very long time. She looked at the figures on the tapestry which covered the walls and which was adorned with the story of the Deluge, executed in colored wools and silks, and wondered who had the patience to do all that work. She read the titles of all the volumes, and thought Lady Peckham must be a happy woman to possess so many books, and have so much time to read them. She looked at the great Bible bound in red velvet, and wondered whether there were any pictures in it.

"I suppose this is my lady's closet, where she comes to read and pray," she thought. "It must be very nice to have such a pleasant room all to oneself, with no sewing, or milking, or feeding chickens to interrupt just as one gets to the interesting place. I should not like to be one of the court ladies, who, Mrs. Alwright says, spend all their time in dressing and dancing and painting their faces, but it must be wondrous pleasant to have such a closet as this, and such a withdrawing-room as my lady's, with Indian cabinets and great china jugs full of rose-leaves and spices; and to have nothing to do but to work tapestry and distill medicines and cordials. I would not put any earthworms or woodlice in them, though. I would only use sweet herbs and gums, and powder of corals and pearls, and such things as are in the receipt for Lady Hewett's Cordial Balm, which I copied out for Mrs. Alwright."

Winifred was in some danger of growing discontented, when the door of the closet was again opened, and Lady Peckham entered. Winifred could now see that the closet opened into a dressing-room or small parlor, where Mrs. Alwright was now sitting, and where Winifred had often been to show her needlework to her lady, and to read to her. Lady Peckham closed the door and seemed about to seat herself in her great chair, but as if suddenly changing her mind, she opened another little door concealed by a hanging strip of tapestry, and beckoned Winifred out upon a small stone balcony.

"No one can listen here!" said she. "Tell me now what you have to say."

Winifred related her story in as few words as possible. When she had finished, Lady Peckham stood for some time in silence, looking abroad to the horizon where was to be seen a strip of the blue waters of the Bristol channel.

"Winifred," said she, at last, "do you know what you have done?"

"I hope I have done no wrong, my lady," replied Winifred. "I know there is danger, and that King Monmouth's men are rebels, but, my lady, if he had been twice a rebel, I could not have left the poor gentleman there to die. You would not have done so yourself!" she concluded, rather amazed at her own boldness. "I am sure you would not."

Lady Peckham smiled through her tears, and sitting down on a stone bench, she drew Winifred to her and kissed her again and again. "Oh, if God had but seen fit to give me such a daughter as you, my child, what a treasure would you be to me! Do you know, sweetheart, what you have done? You have saved the life of my own dearest brother!"

"That then was the reason why Dame Sprat knew him!" said Winifred. "She called him Master Arthur at once, and when I told my grandfather, he said he thought as much. And was that really Mr. Carew?"

"It really was Arthur Carew!" replied Lady Peckham. "The same little brother whom I have nursed and tended many a day (for he was much younger than myself), and who was my greatest comfort when I was in deep affliction. My own dear little Arthur, whom I loved as my own child! He was suspected, though most unjustly, of taking part in the last plot against King Charles, and fled to Holland, where he was much befriended by the unhappy Duke of Monmouth. It must have been by the duke's persuasion that he was induced to join in this last mad undertaking. There would be no hope for him if he were taken. But he must not remain in that miserable hovel, Winifred. You will help, will you not, to bring him up to the Hall?"

"I will do anything in the world for you, my lady!" replied Winifred. "But—"

"But what, child?"

"I think he is safer where he is than he would be at the Hall, madam. Dame Sprat lives on the edge of the waste, in a most lonesome place, where no one passes by and no one ever goes but our own family. She is so poor that no one will suspect her of having anything to spare for others. If Mr. Carew is brought to the Hall, more than one person must be in the secret. Sir Edward's friends will be coming and going; even Colonel Kirke himself, perhaps, for Sir Edward is well-known to be a warm friend to the king."

"That is true!" said the lady. "And yet my heart aches to think of my poor brother lying in that miserable hovel, which will hardly keep out the weather."

"Dame Sprat has lived there ten years!" Winifred ventured to observe. "I have heard my grandfather say that she once lived in as good a house as ours, with servants of her own, and everything comfortable about her."

"Your words go to my heart, Winifred!" said Lady Peckham. "It was my father who turned Dame Sprat off his land, for the part her husband took in the civil wars. What security can I have that the old woman will not avenge her wrongs upon my unfortunate brother, now that he is in her power?"

"Indeed, my lady, you need have no such fear!" replied Winifred, eagerly. "You do not know Dame Sprat, or you would never think of such a thing. I am certain she would not betray any one, least of all her enemy."

"And why least of all her enemy, little one?"

"Because she is a godly Christian woman, madam, one who loves her Bible and her Saviour and tries to be like Him. She never complains of her lot, poor and hard as it is, for she says it would be foolish to quarrel with a shelter which she may leave any minute for the Courts of her Father's house in heaven. And while she is daily and hourly expecting to go to meet her Saviour, I am sure she would never dare to disobey His commands by rendering evil for evil. Besides I do not think she bears a grudge against Mr. Arthur Carew for anything his father may have done. She welcomed him as though he had been a prince of the blood, and would gladly have given up to him her own bed, only he would not take it. Indeed, my lady, if you knew Dame Sprat as I do, you would never think of her betraying anybody!"

"Aye, you have doubtless a great knowledge of the world and of men," said the lady, smiling sadly. "When you have seen as much of both as I, you may be more distrustful."

"Then I hope I shall never see more," said Winifred. "I do not like to distrust people, but I am sure of Dame Sprat!"

"And you do really think my brother would be safe with her—safer than he would be at the Hall?"

"I do, my lady. And you know," she added, timidly, "it is our secret as well as your ladyship's, and if the dame betrays us, we are utterly ruined, without remedy."

"True!" said Lady Peckham. "You are very young, my maid, to be burdened with secrets which concern men's lives. Suppose you should be brought before the chief-justice and questioned, could you have the firmness to keep silence?"

"I think so, madam."

"You have a very good conceit of yourself, Winifred," said Lady Peckham, not altogether pleased with the readiness of the answer. "Take care that it does not betray you. Pride goeth before destruction."

"If I may venture to say so much, I think you do not quite understand me," said Winifred, modestly. "I was thinking the matter over as I came home through the fields last night, and perplexing myself with the same question, whether I should be able to keep the secret, when all at once it seemed to come to me that I was taking thought for to-morrow, and worrying myself about things which might never happen. And then I remembered a great many such texts as these: 'My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness,' 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,' and a great many more such verses of Scripture. So then I thought God has always helped me when I have asked Him heretofore, and why should I begin to doubt His love now, when I need His aid more than ever? It is not because I have any strength of my own, but because I hope He will give it me."

"You are a strange child, Winifred! How do you come to have such grave thoughts, when other girls of your age are thinking only of new gowns and gingerbread?"

"Please, my lady, I like new gowns and gingerbread too," replied Winifred, smiling. "My father has promised to bring me a new gown all the way from the Indies when he comes home again, and also a china pot full of sweetmeats."

"That is spoken like a child again!" said Lady Peckham, smiling in her turn. "And now, Winifred, you shall stay and dine with Mrs. Alwright while I consider what is best for us to do. We must let her into the secret. I see no help for that, since we shall need her assistance, but I am sure of her, and indeed it is only her due. But oh, my maid, be careful. Remember how much may hang upon one careless word!"

"I shall remember, my lady," said Winifred, quietly. While she could not help thinking that there was not much danger of her being careless so long as her own life and that of her friends depended upon her prudence, as well as the life of Mr. Arthur Carew.