"As far as he can go. He is in haste to reach Edinburgh, for there is fresh news of rebels from Ireland landing on the Scotch coast. He showed me this report in a copy of the news-letter called _The Scottish Dove_."
"A badly named news-letter, Jane; the Scotch are never for peace."
"It is intended for a peace paper, mother."
"They are confused in their minds concerning peace. What did it say?"
"That ten ships were leaving Bristol to bring men from Ireland to help Charles Stuart against Cromwell. The _Dove_ asserts, 'the Scotch are ready for speedy action, if God permit, and if advance money be forthcoming;'" and Jane laughed scornfully at the saving clause.
"He did not say much of the Cromwells. I'll warrant, they will forget you in their rising state."
"Far away from it. Mary and Frances sent me many good words, and they are very persuasive with me to come to London and share their state."
"You cannot go just yet, Jane. Your father is opposed to it, until General Cromwell returns there. Then, if it so please God, we shall all go--at least for a season."
"God has set a time for all events, Jane. We must wait for it. What think you of Matilda?"
"That she is in trouble greater than we know. She shuts in her words, but I think that something is about to happen."
"Anything may happen with Cromwell in Scotland, and the Parliament carrying things with such a high hand. But see, Jane, we must be after our own concerns. Servants, men and women, are getting beyond all belief; they do such barefaced things as never was. The week's butter is gone already, and when I spoke to Debby, she wiped her saucy mouth and, like the fox in the fable, 'thanked God she wasn't a thief.'"
Then the mother and daughter separated, and Jane went to her friend's room. She was languidly brushing out her long black hair, and Jane tried to kiss a smile into her melancholy face. And as she lifted her head, she had a momentary glance at a beautiful miniature lying upon the dressing-table. The face was that of a youth with flowing locks and a falling collar of lace; but Jane was too honourable to let her eyes rest consciously upon what was evidently hid from her. For in that same moment, Matilda moved her ribbons and kerchief in a hurried way, contriving in so doing, to cover the picture. Then she assumed her usual manner and asked,