though
she had always thought it mere impatience of home work fired by revenge
for his father's death.

No doubt he believed in this reward himself, in his relief at finding
his brothers and sisters all together and not starving, and considered
their condition a special blessing due to his own zeal, instead of to
Steadfast's patient exertion.

He was much more disposed to talk of himself and the mercies he had
received, but which the tone of his voice showed him to consider as
truly his deserts. Captain Venn had, it seemed, always favoured him from
the time of his enlistment and nothing but his youth prevented him from
being a corporal. He had been in the two great battles of Marston Moor
and Naseby, and come off unhurt from each, and moreover grace had been
given him to interpret the Scriptures in a manner highly savoury and
inspiriting to the soldiery.

Here Patience, in utter amaze, could not help crying out "Thou, Jeph!
Thou couldst not read without spelling, and never would."

He waved his hand. "My sister, what has carnal learning to do with
grace?" And taking a little black Bible from within his breastplate, he
seemed about to give them a specimen, when Emlyn's impatience and hunger
no doubt getting the better of her prudence, she crept into the room,
and presently was seen standing by Steadfast's knee, holding out her
hand for some of the bread and cheese on the table.

[Illustration: Finding of Emlyn]

"And who is this little wench?" demanded Jeph, somewhat displeased
that his brother manifested a certain inattention to his exhortation
by signing to Patience to supply her wants. Stead made unusual haste to
reply to prevent her from speaking.

"She is biding with us till she can join her father, or knows how it is
with him."

"Humph! She hath not the look of one of the daughters of our people."

"Nay," said Steadfast. "I went down last night to the mill, Jeph, to see
whether perchance you might be hurt and wanting help, and after I had
heard that all was well with you, I lighted on this poor little maid
crouching under a bush, and brought her home with me for pity's sake
till I could find her friends."

"The child of a Midianitish woman!" exclaimed Jeph, "one of the Irish
idolaters of whom it is written, 'Thou shalt smite them, and spare
neither man, nor woman, infant, nor suckling.'" "But I am not Irish,"
broke out Emlyn, "I am from Worcestershire. My father is Serjeant
Gaythorn, butler to Sir Harr