Alice Mount had only just spoken when the latch was lifted by Margaret
Thurston.
"Pray you, let me come in and get my breath!" said she; "I'm that
frighted I can scarce stand."
"Come in, neighbour, and welcome," replied Alice; and Rose set a chair
for Margaret. "What ails you? is there a mad bull about, or what?"
"Mad bull, indeed! A mad bull's no great shakes. Not to him, any way."
"Well, I'd as soon not meet one in our lane," said Alice; "but who's
_him_?"
"_Him's_ the priest, be sure! Met me up at top o' the lane, he did, and
he must needs turn him round and walk by me. I well-nigh cracked my
skull trying to think of some excuse to be rid of him; but no such luck
for me! On he came till we reached hither, and then I could bear no
more, and I said I had to see you. He said he went about to see you
afore long, but he wouldn't come in to-day; so on he marched, and right
thankful was I, be sure. Eh, the things he asked me! I've not been so
hauled o'er the coals this year out."
"But what about, marry?"
"Gramercy! wherefore I came not to mass, and why Master didn't: and what
I believed and didn't believe, and wherefore I did this and didn't do
that, till I warrant you, afore he left off, I was that moithered I
couldn't have told what I did believe. I got so muggy I only knew one
thing under the sun, and that was that I'd have given my best gown for
to be rid of him."
"Well, you got free without your best gown, Margaret," said Rose.
"May be I have, but I feel as if I'd left all my wits behind me in the
lane, or mayhap in the priest's pocket. Whatever would the man be at?
We pay our dues to the Church, and we're honest, peaceable folks: if it
serve us better to read our Bible at home rather than go look at him
hocus-pocussing in the church, can't he let us be? Truly, if he'd give
us something when we came, there'd be some reason for finding fault;
nobody need beg me to go to church when there's sermon: but what earthly
good can it do any mortal man to stare at a yellow cross on Father Tye's
back? And what good do you ever get beyond it?"
Sermons have always been a Protestant institution, in this sense, that
the more pure and Scriptural the Church has been, the more sermons there
have generally been, while whenever the clergy have taken up with
foolish ceremonies and have departed from the Bible, they have tried to
do away with preaching. And of course, when very few people could read
their Bibles, there was more need of preaching than there is now, when
nearly everybody can read. Very, very few poor people could read a word
in 1556. It was put down as something remarkable, in the case of
Cissy's father, that he could "read a little." Saint Paul says that it
pleased God by preaching to save them that believe (1 Corinthians one
21), but he never says "by hearing music," or "by looking at flowers, or
candles, or embroidered crosses." Those things can only amuse our eyes
and ears; they will never do our souls any good. How can they? The
only thing that will do good to our souls is to get to know God better:
and flowers, candles, music, and embroidery, cannot teach us anything
about God.
"What laugh you at, Rose?" asked Elizabeth.
"Only Margaret's notion that it could do no man good to stare at the
cross on Father Tye's back," said Rose, trying to recover her gravity.
"Well, the only animal made with a cross on his back is an ass," said
Margaret; "and one would think a man should be better than an ass; but
if his chief business be to make himself look like one, I don't see that
he is so much better."
This amused Rose exceedingly. Elizabeth Foulkes, though the same age as
Rose, was naturally of a graver turn of mind, and she only smiled.
"Well! if I haven't forgot all I was charged with, I'd better give my
message," said Margaret; "but Father Tye's well-nigh shook all my wits
out of my head. Robin Purcas came by this morrow, and he lifted the
latch, and gave me a word from Master Benold, that I was to carry on--
for he's got a job of work at Saint Osyth, and won't be back while
Friday--saith he, on Friday even, Master Pulleyne and the Scots priest,
that were chaplains to my Lady of Suffolk, shall be at the King's Head,
and all of our doctrine that will come to hear shall be welcome. Will
you go?"
"Verily, that will I," replied Alice heartily.
"You see, if Father Tye should stir up the embers and get all alight
again, maybe we shalln't have so many more sermons afterward; so we'd
best get our good things while we can."
"Ay, there may be a famine of hearing the words of the Lord," said Alice
gravely. "God avert the same, if His will is!"
"Johnson, he says he's right sure Master Simnel means to start of his
inquirations. Alice, think you you could stand firm?"
Alice Mount sighed and half shook her head. "I didn't stand over firm
last August, Margaret," said she: "and only the Lord knows how I've
since repented it. If He'll keep me true--but I'm feared of myself."
"Well, do you know I'm not a bit feared? It's true, I wasn't tried in
August, when you were: but if I had been, be sure I'd never have signed
that submission that you did. I wouldn't, so!"
"Maybe not, neighbour," answered Alice meekly. "I was weak."
"Now, Mother," said Rose, who could bear no longer, "you know you stood
forth best of anybody there! It was Father that won her to sign,
Margaret; she never would have done it if she'd been left to herself. I
know she wouldn't."
"Then what didst thou sign for, Rose?" was the reply.
Rose went the colour of her name. Her mother came at once to her help,
as Rose had just done to hers.
"Why, she signed because we did, like a dutiful maid as she is alway:
and it was our faults, Margaret. May God forgive us!"
"Well, but after all, it wasn't so very ill, was it?" asked Margaret,
rather inconsistently with what she had said before: but people are not
always consistent by any means. "Did you promise anything monstrous
wrong? I thought it was only to live as became good Christians and
faithful subjects."
"Nay, Meg, it was more than that. We promised right solemnly to submit
us to the Church in all matters, and specially in this, that we did
believe the Sacrament to be Christ's body, according to His words."
"Why, so do we all believe," said Margaret, "_according to His words_.
Have you forgot the tale Father Tye did once tell us at the King's Head,
of my Lady Elizabeth the Queen's sister, that when she was asked what
she did believe touching the Sacrament, she made this answer?
"`Christ was the Word that spake it,
He took the bread, and brake it;
And what that word did make it,
That I believe, and take it.'"
"That was a bit crafty, methinks," said Rose. "I love not such shifts.
I would rather speak out my mind plainly."
"Ay, but if you speak too plainly, you be like to find you in the wrong
place," answered Margaret.
"That would not be the wrong place wherein truth set me," was Rose's
earnest answer. "That were never the wrong place wherein God should be
my company. And if the fire were too warm for my weakness to bear, the
holy angels should maybe fan me with their wings till I came to the
covert of His Tabernacle."
"Well, that's all proper pretty," said Margaret, "and like a book as
ever the parson could talk: but I tell thee what, Rose Allen, thou'lt
sing another tune if ever thou come to Smithfield. See if thou
doesn't."
And Rose answered, "`The word that God putteth in my mouth, that will I
speak.'"