When at last the day of parting came, it was not such an unmingled joy
to Bessie as she had anticipated, for her heart clung to this friend,
who was so like and yet so unlike herself in all externals of character
and surroundings.

"I shall never be able to say a word against steeple-houses and the
people who go there, after knowing thee, Audrey," she said, the last
evening they spent together.

They were sitting on a box in the keeping-room, waiting for the waggon
to come and fetch the last of their goods to the wherry, which would
carry them to the schooner chartered by Sir William Penn to convey them
to their new home. The girls sat hand in hand, their hearts too full to
say much, until Bessie spoke about the steeple-houses.

"I am glad," said Audrey in a whisper, "for I never liked to hear thee
speak of what I loved and reverenced with such contempt. I cannot
understand how thee can do it, when it is God's house of prayer."

But this was treading on dangerous ground, and had been the most thorny
subject of discussion between the two girls; so Audrey hastened to add—

"I have learned to understand what a real Quaker is from knowing thee,
Bessie; and I shall always try to help them if I can, and they need my
help."

"Ah, and I fear there will be many poor Friends left behind here in
London who will need all the help man can give them," answered Bessie.
"For we cannot all go in this ship to another land; and Friend William
Penn says it would not be good for us or for England to carry all the
Quakers away. We have had our share of the battle, and fought for the
truth and for liberty of conscience, as God strengthened us to do. Now
He will strengthen others to take our places, while we go to plant the
truth in other lands. Although Friend William Penn hath been imprisoned
for the truth again and again, he will not come with us now, but stay
and fight the battle of religious liberty here; for it can only grow
and become strong through fighting and struggling—hard as it may be for
us who suffer."

"Oh, Bessie, I cannot bear to think there should be all this fighting
about it," said Audrey, in a pained tone.

"It hurts thee only to think of it," said Bessie, "and therefore God
hath not called thee to this work, but to be a comforter of those who
suffer, and help to make them strong and gentle. Thou art tender and
loving and pitiful. I thought scornfully of these things once; but
since I have known thee, I have learned to see that God hath work for
all in His world. For it is His world, Audrey, in spite of the sin and
pain and trouble that wicked people make in it. Now I want to fight
this wickedness, and so does my father. But it may be God hath other
methods, only I have not learned them. But I am glad—oh, so glad!—that
God hath called my mother and father, and all of us, out of the fight
for a little while—or, at least, this sort of fighting," added Bessie.

"The fight can never be over, while we have our own sin and selfishness
to struggle against," said Audrey quickly.

"I know. I have learned that since I have been here," replied Bessie.
"There was not time to think of much besides the other sort of fighting
before. We needed all our courage to be faithful and true, and preach
the gospel to every creature, as the Lord Jesus commanded; but since I
have been here, dwelling in safety and comfort, such as I never knew
before, I have learned there is another battle to fight, and other
victories to be won, and I have been trying to do this as well."

"I know, Bessie," whispered Audrey, "I know it has not been easy for
you to do just the everyday work that was so important to aunt and
uncle. You are Brave Bessie Westland—the bravest girl I ever knew,
especially in what you have done for aunt and all of us here."

They were interrupted at this point, for the box on which they were
seated was wanted, and there was no further opportunity of talking.

At daybreak they were going by water to Limehouse Hole, where a
wherry was to be in readiness to convey them to Gravesend. The whole
party who were going were Quakers, many of them in broken health
from imprisonment in unwholesome gaols. Some were bringing all their
household goods, as Master Drayton was doing; while others, like
Bessie's mother, possessed but the few rags they wore when leaving
prison. Most of them came from London and its neighbourhood; but a few
were brought from neighbouring gaols, the authorities giving them up to
save, the expense of transporting them as slaves to the plantations.

Audrey and her mother bade the Draytons farewell the night before they
started. It was hard for the sisters to part after this short reunion,
for they too had begun to understand each other better than they had
done before, and whatever their differences of opinion might be, they
were heartily at one in desiring that religious liberty should be the
right of everybody, whatever name they might be called by; for, as Dame
Lowe remarked, there were more silent martyrs in any cause than the
world dreamed of; and, as Audrey added, there were not many like Brave
Bessie Westland.

So the tears of parting had all been shed when the sun rose the next
morning, and if they were not all as happy as Bessie herself and her
two sisters, it was a calm and hopeful party of men and women who went
on board the wherry at Limehouse Hole, and though most of them were
being forcibly driven from their native land, they could yet look
forward to the new home they were going to make in the unknown world
beyond the seas. To many of the more timid of the company, seated among
the baskets and bundles on board the wherry, the voyage, with its
unknown perils, was the most fearful part of the trial, and if they
could not have rested upon the arm of their Father in heaven, they
would scarcely have braved its dangers even to escape persecution. But
almost all among them had a nearer and dearer self in husband, wife,
or children, to think of, and for their sakes the timid became brave,
for the time at least, so that when the schooner was reached, where the
prisoners had been already placed under the care of the captain, the
party of Friends in the wherry were able to meet them with cheerful,
hopeful words and greetings.

To Bessie and her sisters it was a moment of great joy, although a
second look at the dear mother showed that the months spent in prison
had left cruel marks upon her. The hair, so dark when she went away,
was now quite white, they saw, as they looked more closely under the
hood that covered her head. She was better clothed than most of those
who had been brought from different gaols, for Dame Lowe and Audrey
had made her a homely but useful outfit for the voyage, and some of
the things had been taken by Friends to the prison the day before. For
this thoughtful kindness Dame Westland was deeply grateful, since the
rags she had been wearing would have been a pain and grief to Bessie,
she knew, and to be able to meet her children decently clad was a great
comfort.

Truly the passengers going on this voyage were of all sorts and
conditions of men; but they were linked in the bonds of love to God,
and the truth declared by the Lord Jesus Christ, and for this they
had all suffered in mind, body, or estate, some being beggared, some
maimed, some broken in health and hope alike, but all brave, true
friends and brethren, ready to help each other and bear each other's
burdens.

By the help of the same benefactor, under the guidance of God, they had
been brought together to make a new home in a new country, and they
resolved that, so far as it was possible, religious as well as civil
liberty, should be the charter of the new homestead they were going to
set up in New Jersey. It was to be a home and refuge for the persecuted
Society of Friends. Sir William Penn had bought it, and they were to
establish the faith of God upon it.

Later, perhaps, if the persecution of their people in England did not
cease, he would endeavour to secure a larger territory in liquidation
of a debt owing by the king, for money advanced by his father the
admiral. Whether these larger plans would ever come to anything, the
present band of pilgrims did not know; but, of course, it would largely
depend upon the success of this venture, so every man and woman of the
party felt that it would depend upon them whether or not this larger
refuge could be founded, and all with one accord, who had heard the
story, resolved to follow the example of Brave Bessie Westland.

MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.