The Gold that Glitters | Page 2

never be young but once, and I want some pleasure in my life."

"All right," said Kate lightly. "I scarce think they turn up the whites of
their eyes at Bentley Hall. Have your fling, Jenny--only don't go too far,
look you."
"I can take care of myself, thank you," returned Jenny scornfully.
"Lock that striped bag for me, Kate, there's a darling; there's father
calling downstairs."
And Jenny ran off, to cry softly in a high treble to Kate, a minute
afterwards--"Supper!"
Supper was spread in the large kitchen of the farmhouse. Jenny's father
was a tenant farmer, his landlord being Colonel Lane, of Bentley Hall,
and it was to be maid (or, as they said then, "lady's woman") to the
Colonel's sister, that Jenny was going to the Hall. Mrs Jane was much
younger than her brother, being only six years older than Jenny herself.
In the present day she would be called Miss Jane, but in 1651 only little
girls were termed Miss. Jenny had always been rather a pet, both with
Mrs Lane and her daughter; for she was a bright child, who learned
easily, and could repeat the Creed and the Ten Commandments as
glibly as possible when she was only six years old. Unhappily, lessons
were apt to run out of Jenny's head as fast as they ran in, except when
frequently demanded; but the Creed and the Commandments had to
stay there, for every Saturday night she was called on to repeat them to
her Grandmother, and every Sunday afternoon she had to say them at
the catechising in church. In Jenny's head, therefore, they remained; but
down to Jenny's heart they never penetrated.
It was only now that Mrs Jane was setting up a maid for herself.
Hitherto she had been served by her mother's woman; but now she was
going on a visit to some relatives near Bristol, and it was thought
proper that she should have a woman of her own. And when the
question was asked where the maid should be sought, Mrs Jane had
said at once--"Oh, let me have little Jenny Lavender!"
Farmer Lavender was not quite so ready to let Jenny go as Mrs Jane
was to ask it. Bristol seemed to him a long way off, and, being a town,
most likely a wicked place. Those were days in which people made

their wills before they took a journey of a hundred miles; and no
wonder, when the roads were so bad that men had frequently to be
hired to walk beside a gentleman's carriage, and give it a push to either
side, when it showed an inclination to topple over; or oxen sometimes
were fetched, to pull the coach out of a deep quagmire of mud, from
which only one half of it was visible. So Farmer Lavender shook his
head, and said "he didn't know, no, he didn't, whether he'd let his little
maid go." But Mrs Jane was determined--and so was Jenny; and
between them they conquered the farmer, though his old mother was on
the prudent side. This was Friday, and Mrs Jane was to leave home on
Tuesday; and on Saturday afternoon, Robert Featherstone, Colonel
Lane's valet, whom Jenny thought such a gentleman, was to come for
her and her luggage.
If a gentleman be a man who never does any useful thing that he can
help, then Mr Robin Featherstone was a perfect gentleman--much more
so than his master, who was ready to put his hand to any work that
wanted doing. Mr Featherstone thought far more of his elegant white
hands than the Colonel did of his, and oiled his chestnut locks at least
three times as often. He liked the Colonel's service, because he had
very little to do, and there were plenty of people in the house as idle
and feather-pated as himself. Colonel Lane was in Robin's eyes a good
master, though old Mrs Lavender thought him a bad one. That is, he
allowed his servants to neglect their work with very little censure, and
took no notice of their employments during their leisure hours. And
Satan was not a bit less busy in 1651 than he is in 1895, in finding
mischief for idle hands to do. Leisure time is to a man what he chooses
to make it--either a great blessing or a great curse. And just then, for
those who chose the last, the disturbed and unsettled state of the
country offered particular opportunities.
The war between the King and the Parliament was just over. Charles
the First had been beheaded at Whitehall nearly two years before; and
though his son, Charles the Second, was still in England, fighting to
recover his father's kingdom, it was pretty plainly to be seen that his
struggle