"You wouldn't, Father! Please why?"
"Because, dear heart, He knoweth better than we what is good for us.
Sometimes, when folk ask God too earnestly for that they desire, He lets
them have it, but in punishment, not in mercy. It would have been a
sight better for the Israelites if they hadn't had those quails. Dost
thou mind how David saith, `He gave them their desire, but sent leanness
withall into their souls?' I'd rather be burnt, Cis, than live with a
lean soul, and my Father in Heaven turning away His face from me."
Cissy considered. "Father, I could never get along a bit, if you were
so angry you wouldn't look at me!"
"Truly, dear heart, and I would not have my Father so. Ask the Lord
what thou wilt, Cis, if it be His will; only remember that His will is
best for us--the happiest as well as the most profitable."
"Wilt shut up o' thy preachment?" shouted Wastborowe, with a severe blow
to Johnson. "Thou wilt make the child as ill an heretic as thyself, and
we mean to bring her up a good Catholic Christian!"
Johnson made no answer to the gaoler's insolent command. A look of
great pain came into his face, and he lifted his head up towards the
sky, as if he were holding communion with his Father in Heaven.
Elizabeth guessed his thoughts. If he were to be martyred, and his
little helpless children to be handed over to the keeping of priests who
would teach them to commit idolatry, and forbid them to read the Bible--
that seemed a far worse prospect in his eyes than even the agony of
seeing them suffer. That, at the worst, would be an hour's anguish, to
be followed by an eternity of happy rest: but the other might mean the
loss of all things--body and soul alike. Little Will did not enter into
the matter. He might have understood something if he had been paying
attention, but he was not attending, and therefore he did not. But
Cissy, to whom her father was the centre of the world, and who knew his
voice by heart, understood his looks as readily as his words.
"Father!" she said, looking at him, "don't be troubled about us. I'll
never believe nobody that says different from what you've learned us,
and I'll tell Will and Baby they mustn't mind them neither."
And Elizabeth added softly--"`I will be a God to thee, and to thy seed
after thee.' `Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve them
alive.'"
"God bless you both!" said Johnson, and he could say no more.
The next day the twelve prisoners accused of heresy were had up for
examination before the Commissioners, Sir John Kingston, Mr Roper, and
Mr Boswell, the Bishop's scribe. Six of them--Elizabeth Wood,
Christian Hare, Rose Fletcher, Joan Kent, Agnes Stanley, and Margaret
Simson--were soon disposed of. They had been in prison for a fortnight
or more, they were terribly frightened, and they were not strong in the
faith. They easily consented to be reconciled to the Church--to say
whatever the priests bade them, and to believe--or pretend to believe--
all that they were desired.
Robert Purcas was the next put on trial. The Bishop's scribe called him
(in the account he wrote to his master) "obstinate, and a glorious
prating heretic." What this really meant was that his arguments were
too powerful to answer. He must have had considerable ability, for
though only twenty years of age, and a village tradesman, he was set
down in the charge-sheet as "lettered," namely, a well-educated man,
which in those days was most extraordinary for a man of that
description.
"When confessed you last?" asked the Commissioners of Purcas.
"I have not confessed of long time," was the answer, "nor will I; for
priests have no power to remit sin."
"Come you to church, to hear the holy mass?"
"I do not, nor will I; for all that is idolatry."
"Have you never, then, received the blessed Sacrament of the altar?"
"I did receive the Supper of the Lord in King Edward's time, but not
since: nor will I, except it be ministered to me as it was then."
"Do you not worship the sacred host?"
That is, the consecrated bread in the Lord's Supper.
"Those who worship it are idolaters!" said Robert Purcas, without the
least hesitation: "that which there is used is bread and wine only."
"Have him away!" cried Sir John Kingston. "What need to question
further so obstinate a man?"
So they had him away--not being able to answer him--and Agnes Silverside
was called in his stead.
She was very calm, but as determined as Purcas.
"Come hither, Mistress!" said Boswell, roughly. "Why, what have we here
in the charge-sheet? `Agnes Silverside, _alias_ Smith, _alias_ Downes,
_alias_ May!' Hast thou had four husbands, old witch, or how comest by
so many names?"
"Sir," was the quiet answer, "my name is Smith from my father, and I
have been thrice wed."
The Commissioners, having first amused themselves by a little rough
joking at the prisoner's expense, inquired which of her husbands was the
last.
"My present name is Silverside," she replied.
"And what was he, this Silverside?--a tanner or a chimney-sweep?"
"Sir, he was a priest."
The Commissioners--who knew it all beforehand--professed themselves
exceedingly shocked. God never forbade priests to marry under the Old
Testament, nor did He ever command Christian ministers to be unmarried
men: but the Church of Rome has forbidden her priests to have any wives,
as Saint Paul told Timothy would be done by those who departed from the
faith: [see One Timothy four 3.] thus "teaching for doctrines the
commandments of men." [See Matthew fifteen verse 9.]