.

"Oh, no! Too happy, by far too happy, Mrs. Ridd. I never knew rest or
peace before, or met with real kindness. But I cannot be so ungrateful,
I cannot be so wicked, as to bring you all into deadly peril, for
my sake alone. Let me go: you must not pay this great price for my
happiness."

"Dear child, we are paying no price at all," replied my mother,
embracing her; "we are not threatened for your sake only. Ask John,
he will tell you. He knows every bit about politics, and this is a
political matter."

Dear mother was rather proud in her heart, as well as terribly
frightened, at the importance now accruing to Plover's Barrows farm;
and she often declared that it would be as famous in history as the Rye
House, or the Meal-tub, or even the great black box, in which she was a
firm believer: and even my knowledge of politics could not move her upon
that matter. "Such things had happened before," she would say, shaking
her head with its wisdom, "and why might they not happen again? Women
would be women, and men would be men, to the end of the chapter; and if
she had been in Lucy Water's place, she would keep it quiet, as she
had done"; and then she would look round, for fear, lest either of her
daughters had heard her; "but now, can you give me any reason, why it
may not have been so? You are so fearfully positive, John: just as men
always are." "No," I used to say; "I can give you no reason, why it may
not have been so, mother. But the question is, if it was so, or not;
rather than what it might have been. And, I think, it is pretty good
proof against it, that what nine men of every ten in England would
only too gladly believe, if true, is nevertheless kept dark from them."
"There you are again, John," mother would reply, "all about men, and not
a single word about women. If you had any argument at all, you would own
that marriage is a question upon which women are the best judges." "Oh!"
I would groan in my spirit, and go; leaving my dearest mother quite
sure, that now at last she must have convinced me. But if mother had
known that Jeremy Stickles was working against the black box, and its
issue, I doubt whether he would have fared so well, even though he was
a visitor. However, she knew that something was doing and something of
importance; and she trusted in God for the rest of it. Only she used to
tell me, very seriously, of an evening, "The very least they can give
you, dear John, is a coat of arms. Be sure you ta