One Snowy Night Part 27

"What, both stayed at home! O Aunt Isel, you have missed such a sight!"

"Well, you've got it, then, I suppose," muttered Isel.

"I shall never forget it--not if I live to be a hundred."

"Umph! Don't think I shall neither."

"Now, didn't I tell you those foreigners were no good? Osbert always said so. I knew I was right. And I am, you see."

"You're standing in my light, Anania--that's all I can see at present."

Anania moved about two inches. "Oh, but it was grand to see the Council come out of Saint Mary's! All the doctors in their robes, and the Bishops, and last the King--such a lovely shade his mantle was! It's a pity the Queen was not there too; I always think a procession's half spoiled when there are no ladies."

"Oh, that's what you're clucking about, is it? Processions, indeed!"

"Aunt Isel, are you very cross, or what's the matter with you?"

"She's in pain, I fear," said Flemild quickly.

"Where's the pain? I've gathered some splendid fresh betony and holy-thistle."

"Here!" said Isel, laying her hand on her heart.

"Why, then, holy-thistle's just what you want. I'll send you some down by Stephen."

"Thank you. But it'll do me no good."

"Oh, don't you say that, now.--Flemild, I wonder you did not come to see all the sights. You'll find you've not nearly so much time for pleasure after you're married; don't look for it. Have you settled when it's to be?"

"It was to have been last month, you know, but Father wanted it put off."

"Ay, so as he could know Raven a bit better. Well, when is it to be now?"

"March, they say."

"You don't say it as if you enjoyed it much."

"Maybe she takes her pleasure in different ways from you," said Isel.

"Can't see any, for my part, in going to see a lot of poor wretches flogged and driven out into the snow. Suppose you could."

"O Aunt!--when they were heretics?"

"No, _nor murderers neither_--without they'd murdered me, and then I reckon I shouldn't have been there to look at 'em."

"But the priests say they are worse than murderers--they murder men's souls."

"I'm alive, for aught I know. And I don't expect to say my Paternoster any worse than I did seven years gone."

"How do you know they haven't bewitched you?" asked Anania in a solemn tone.

"For the best of all reasons--that I'm not bewitched."

"Aunt Isel, I'm not so sure of that. If those wretches--"

"O Anania, do let Mother be!" pleaded Flemild. "It is her pain that speaks, not herself. I told you she was suffering."

"You did; but I wonder if her soul isn't worse than her body. I'll just give Father Dolfin a hint to look to her soul and body both. They say those creatures only bewitched one maid, and she was but a poor villein belonging to some doctor of the schools: and so frightened was she to see their punishment that she was in a hurry to recant every thing they had taught her. Well! we shall see no more of them, that's one good thing. I shouldn't think any of them would be alive by the end of the week. The proclamation was strict--neither food nor shelter to be given, nor any compa.s.sion shown. And branded as they are, every body will know them, you see."

Stephen came in while his sister-in-law was speaking.

"Come, now, haven't you had talk enough?" said he. "You've a tongue as long as from here to Banbury Cross. You'd best be going home, Anania, for Osbert's as cross as two sticks, and he'll be there in a few minutes."

"Oh dear, one never has a bit of peace! I did think I could have sat a while, and had a nice chat."

"It won't be so nice if you keep Osbert waiting, I can tell you."

Anania rose with evident reluctance, and gathered her mantle round her.

"Well, good-day, Aunt Isel! I'll send you down the holy-thistle.

Good-day, Flemild. Aren't you coming with me, Stephen?"

"No; I want to wait for Uncle Manning."

"Stephen, I'm obliged to you for ever and ever! If she'd stayed another minute, I should have flown at her!"

"You looked as if you'd come to the end of your patience," said Stephen, smiling, but gravely; "and truly, I don't wonder. But what's this about holy-thistle? Are you sick, Aunt Isel?"

Isel looked searchingly into her nephew's face.

"You look true," she said; "I think you might be trusted, Stephen."

"Oh, _if_ you're grieving over _them_, don't be afraid to tell me so. I did my best to save Gerard, but he would not be warned. I'd have caught up the child and brought him to you, if I'd had a chance; but I was hemmed in the crowd, a burly priest right afore me, and I couldn't have laid hand on him. Poor souls! I'm sorry for them."

"G.o.d bless thee for those words, Stephen! I'm sore for them to the very core of my heart. If they'd been my own father's children or mine, I couldn't feel sadder than I do. And to have to listen to those hard, cold, brutal words from that woman--."

"I know. She is a brute. I guessed somewhat how things were going with you, for I saw her turn in here from the end of Saint Edward's; and I thought you mightn't be so sorry to have her sent off. Her tongue's not so musical as might be."

Manning and Haimet came in together. The former went up to Isel, while Haimet began a conversation with his cousin, and after a moment the two young men left the house together. Then Manning spoke.

"Wife and children," said he, "from this day forward, no word is to be uttered in my house concerning these German people. They are heretics, so p.r.o.nounced by holy Church; and after that, no compa.s.sion may be shown to them. Heretics are monsters, demons in human form, who seek the ruin of souls. Remember my words."

Isel looked earnestly in her husband's face.

"No," said Manning, not unkindly, but firmly; "no excuses for them, Isel. I can quite understand that you feel sorry for those whom you have regarded as friends for seven years: but such sorrow is now sin.

You must crush and conquer it. It were rebellion against G.o.d, who has judged these miscreants by the lips of His Church."

Isel broke down in a very pa.s.sion of tears.