Free Love and Money by Phyllis Bentley

would best be done? Take Simon with you, he knows the way, and send a message back to me with him. Hadst best write it down, for Simon grows old and dull. Everything in the world grows old and dull nowadays, I think, Tom,” concluded Sir Richard, sighing angrily.
    Just as Sir Richard had said, the sound of a psalm sung in a man’s deep voice rang out from the cottage in the fold of the hill beside the stream, almost drowning the clack of the shuttle. Thomas dismounted, and bidding Simon walk the horses on the few yards of level ground, knocked on the door. The shuttle and the singing did not cease, but Thomas heard footsteps within, and soon the door was quietly opened.
    â€œMaster Thomas!” exclaimed Joanna.
    She looked quieter and older, but not unhappy, like a woman who had been through much storm but survived into calmer waters. She was very soberly dressed in a dark cloth, with a plain white collar round her throat such as puritans had taken to wearing of late, and her hair was dressed close to her head; the fashion suited her. Her eyes were as kind, her cheek as warm, as ever, but she seemed disinclined to admit him.
    â€œI have come with a message from Sir Richard Bellomont about Isabella,” said Thomas in a calm ordinary tone, as though the matter were of the most everyday occurrence.
    Joanna stepped back and admitted him to the single downstairs room of the cottage. Leaving Thomas to find his own way to the fireside, she went to the foot of a wooden ladder which led to the upper storey, and called out:
    â€œWilliam! William!”
    A man’s voice came in question from above, and Joanna made an answer in which Thomas heard the name ofBellomont. Not wishing to be privy to their conversation, he turned aside to the hearth, where Joanna’s spinning-wheel was just ceasing to revolve. Everything in this cottage, unlike everything at Bellomont, gleamed with cleanliness; but here as at Bellomont stood a cradle. But the cradle too was unlike its counterpart at Bellomont, for it was homemade and unpainted, and the child lying snugly asleep there was a boy, rosy and well. Joanna returned and sat down at her wheel.
    â€œI understand that you married your cousin two years ago, Mistress Joanna,” said Thomas.
    â€œHe heard that I was very wretched, and came to fetch me,” said Joanna simply.
    â€œShe was betrothed to me before that man of sin set eyes on her,” said a deep voice behind him.
    Thomas turned; the weaver was descending the ladder. Notwithstanding the awkwardness of his posture and the homeliness of his clothes—no jacket, leather breeches, a patched shirt with sleeves rolled up beyond the elbows— William Lees made an impression of youth and strength which startled Thomas. He now stood upright at the foot of the ladder, and showed himself to be a man of only middle height, slightly bowed as was often the case with weavers from stooping over their looms, but very broad in the shoulder and with arms knotted with muscle from continual throwing of the shuttle. He had a broad square face, a good colour in his cheeks, thick black hair and eyebrows, and no beard; he stood firm on his feet and gazed at Thomas with a massive contempt. Thomas, who had expected some pale, thin, ugly, frightened man, was taken aback but began his errand as best he could.
    â€œSir Richard Bellomont has heard that you mean to seek your fortune in the New World.”
    â€œHe hath heard aright,” said William Lees. “All things go to wreck here, many godly ministers of our persuasion are silenced, and the light of the gospel is like to be put out. We go where we may worship the Lord in our own way.”
    â€œSir Richard is naturally concerned,” continued Thomas.
    â€œWhy? My wife is no concern of Sir Richard Bellomont’s,” said William Lees.
    â€œBut Isabella?” urged Thomas. “She is his concern.”
    â€œHe is no very loving father, I fancy,”