Cissy Johnson was not old enough to understand all the reasons why her
father distrusted the priest; but she knew well that "Father didn't like
him," and like the dutiful little girl she was, she was resolved not to
make a friend of any one whom her father disliked, for she knew that he
might have good reasons which she could not understand. But Cissy had
been taught to be civil to everybody, and respectful to her betters--
lessons of which a little more would not hurt some folks in the present
day. People make a great mistake who think that you cannot both be
respectful to others and independent for yourself. The Bible teaches us
to do both. Being in this state of mind, Cissy was decidedly pleased to
see her father coming up from the other end of the lane.
"Oh, here's Father!" she said to Rose; and little Will ran on joyfully
to meet him.
"Well, my lad!" was Johnson's greeting to his boy. "So thou and Cissy
have got back? It's a right long way for such as thou."
Little Will suddenly remembered that he was exceedingly tired, and said
so.
"Thou'd better go to bed," said her father, as they came up with the
girls. "Well, Cis, who hast thou picked up?--I'm right thankful to
you," he added, looking at Rose, "for giving my little maid a helping
hand. It's a long way for such little ones, all the way from the Heath,
and a heavy load for little arms, and I'm main thankful. Will you come
in a bit and rest you?" he said to Rose.
But Rose declined, for she knew her mother would expect her to come back
at once. She kissed Cissy, and told her, whenever she had a load to
carry either way, to be sure she looked in at the Blue Bell, when Rose
would help her if she possibly could: and giving the jar to Johnson, she
bade him good-night, and turned back up the lane. Sir Thomas had walked
on, as Rose supposed: at any rate, he was not to be seen. She went
nearly a mile without seeing any one, until Margaret Thurston's cottage
came in sight. As Rose began to go a little more slowly, she heard
footsteps behind her, and the next minute she was joined--to her
surprise--by the priest.
"My daughter," he said, in a soft, kind voice, "I think thou art Rose
Allen?"
Rose dropped a courtesy, and said she was.
"I have been wishful to speak with some of thy father's household," said
Sir Thomas, in the same gentle way: "so that I am fain to meet thee
forth this even. Tell me, my child, is there illness in the house or
no?"
Rose breathed quickly: she guessed pretty well what was coming.
"No, Father," she answered; "we are all in good health, God be thanked
for that same."
"Truly. I am glad to hear thee so speak, my daughter, and in especial
that thou rememberest to thank God. But wherefore, then, being in good
health, have ye not come to give thanks to God in His own house, these
eight Sundays past? Ye have been regular aforetime, since ye were back
from the Bishop's Court. Surely it is not true--I do hope and trust it
is not true, that ye be slipping yet again into your past evil ways of
ill opinions and presumptuous sin?"
The reason why the Mounts had not been to church was because the
services were such as they could no longer join in. Queen Mary had
brought back the Popish mass, and all the images which King Edward had
done away with; so that to go to church was not to worship God but to
worship idols. And so terrible was the persecution Mary had allowed to
be set up, that the penalty for refusing to do this was to be burnt to
death for what she called heresy.
It was a terrible position for a young girl in which Rose Allen stood
that night. This man not only held her life in his hands, but also
those of her mother and her step-father. If he chose to inform against
them, the end of it might be death by fire. For one moment Rose was
silent, during which she cried silently but most earnestly to God for
wisdom and courage--wisdom to keep her from saying what might bring them
into needless danger, and courage to stand true and firm to God and His
truth.
"Might I be so bold as to pray you, Father," she said at last, "to ask
at my mother the cause of such absence from mass? You wot I am but a
young maid, and under direction of mine elders."
Sir Thomas Tye smiled to himself. He thought Rose a very cautious,
prudent girl, who did not want to bring herself into trouble.
"So be it, my daughter," said he in the same gentle way. "Doubtless it
was by direction of thine elders that then wert absent aforetime, ere ye
were had up to the Bishop."
He meant it as a question, by which he hoped to entangle poor Rose. She
was wise enough not to answer, but to let it pass as if he were merely
giving his own opinion, about which she did not wish to say anything.
"Crafty girl!" thought Sir Thomas. Then he said aloud,--"The festival
of our Lady cometh on apace: ye will surely have some little present for
our blessed Lady?"