"How liked thee yon Friar's discourse?"
"It liked me well."
"Marry, thus said Cicely Marvell, that dwelleth by me. But for me, I
saw none so much therein to make ado o'er. `God loveth men'--ay, to be
sure He doth so: and `we should love God'--why, of course we so should,
and do. Forsooth, what then, I pray you?"
"Why, then, much comfort, as meseemeth," answered Agnes.
"Comfort!" repeated Mrs Flint, looking at her. "Ay, poor soul, I dare
say thou hast need. But I lack no comfort at this present, the blessed
Sacrament be thanked! I have enough and to spare."
And, half laughing, with a farewell nod, Mrs Flint took up her full
pail, and trudged away. With some surprise Agnes realised that to this
cheerful, healthy, prosperous woman, the ray of light which was making
her whole soul glad, was not worth opening the windows to behold; the
wine of Paradise which brimmed her cup with joy, was only common water.
Perhaps, before that light could make a happy heart glad, other lights
must be put out; before the water could be changed to wine, other
conduits must run dry. It was well for Agnes Stone that she had nothing
wherewith to quench her thirst but the cup of salvation, and no light to
shine upon her pathway but the light of life.