h began as a
thanksgiving for food, but wandered away into questions of Church and
State, and finally ended in a supplication for Israel now in arms to do
battle for the Lord. While this was proceeding we stood in a group
by the door with our caps doffed, and spent our time in observing the
company more closely than we could have done with courtesy had their
eyes not been cast down and their thoughts elsewhere.

They were of all ages, from greybeards down to lads scarce out of their
teens, all with the same solemn and austere expression of countenance,
and clad in the same homely and sombre garb. Save their wide white
collars and cuffs, not a string of any colour lessened the sad severity
of their attire. Their black coats and doublets were cut straight and
close, and their cordovan leather shoes, which in the days of our youth
were usually the seat of some little ornament, were uniformly square
toed and tied with sad-coloured ribbon. Most of them wore plain
sword-belts of untanned hide, but the weapons themselves, with their
broad felt hats and black cloaks, were laid under the benches or placed
upon the settles which lined the walls. They stood with their hands
clasped and their heads bent, listening to the untimely address, and
occasionally by some groan or exclamation testifying that the preacher's
words had moved them.

The overgrown grace came at last to an end, when the company sat
silently down, and proceeded without pause or ceremony to attack the
great joints which smoked before them. Our young hostess led us to the
end of the table, where a high carded chair with a black cushion upon it
marked the position of the master of the house. Mistress Timewell seated
herself upon the right of the Mayor's place, with Sir Gervas beside her,
while the post of honour upon the left was assigned to Saxon. On my left
sat Lockarby, whose eyes I observed had been fixed in undisguised and
all-absorbing admiration upon the Puritan maiden from the first moment
that he had seen her. The table was of no great breadth, so that we
could talk across in spite of the clatter of plates and dishes, the
bustle of servants, and the deep murmur of voices.

'This is my father's household,' said our hostess, addressing herself to
Saxon. 'There is not one of them who is not in his employ. He hath many
apprentices in the wool trade. We sit down forty to meat every day in
the year.'

'And to right good fare, too,' quoth Saxon, glancing down t