The King's Daughters Part 21

"Because no priest hath power to remit sins."

"Hang 'em! they are all in a story!" said the chief Commissioner, wrathfully. "But she's a well-favoured maid, this: it were verily pity to burn her, if we could win her to recant."

What a poor, weak, mean thing human nature is! The men who had no pity for the white hair of Agnes Silverside, or the calm courage of John Johnson, or even the helpless innocence of little Cissy: such things as these did not touch them at all--these very men were anxious to save Elizabeth Foulkes, not because she was good, but because she was beautiful.

It is a sad, sad blunder, which people often make, to set beauty above goodness. Some very wicked things have been done in this world, simply by thinking too much of beauty. Admiration is a good thing in its proper place; but a great deal of mischief comes when it gets into the wrong one. Whenever you admire a bad man because he is clever, or a foolish woman because she is pretty, you are letting admiration get out of his place. If we had lived when the Lord Jesus was upon earth, we should not have found people admiring Him. He was not beautiful. "His face was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men." And would it not have been dreadful if we had admired Pontius Pilate and Judas Iscariot, and had seen no beauty in Him who is "altogether lovely" to the hearts of those whom the Holy Ghost has taught to love Him? So take care what sort of beauty you admire, and make sure that goodness goes along with it. We may be quite certain that however much men thought of Elizabeth's beautiful face, G.o.d thought very little of it. The beauty which He saw in her was her love to the Lord Jesus, and her firm stand against what would dishonour Him. This sort of beauty all of us can have. Oh, do ask G.o.d to make you beautiful in _His_ eyes!

No sooner had the chief Commissioner spoken than a voice in the Court called out,--

"Pray you, Wors.h.i.+pful Sirs, save this young maid! I am her mother's brother, Thomas Holt of Colchester, and I do you to wit she is of a right good inclination, and no wise perverse. I do entreat you, grant her yet another chance."

Then a gentleman stepped forward from the crowd of listeners.

"Wors.h.i.+pful Sirs," said he, "may I have leave to take charge of this young maiden, to the end that she may be reconciled to the Church, and obtain remission of her errors? Truly, as Master Commissioner saith, it were pity so fair a creature were made food for the fire."

"Who are you?--and what surety give you?" asked Sir John.

Sir Thomas Tye rose from his seat on the Bench.

"Please it, your Wors.h.i.+ps, that is Master Ashby of this town, a good Catholic man, and well to be trusted. If your Wors.h.i.+ps be pleased to show mercy to the maid, as indeed I would humbly entreat you to do, there were no better man than he to serve you in this matter."

The priest having spoken in favour of Mr Ashby the Commissioners required no further surety.

"Art thou willing to be reformed?" they asked Elizabeth.

"Sirs," she answered cautiously, "I am willing to be shown G.o.d's true way, if so be I err from it."

This was enough for the Commissioners. They wanted to get her free, and they therefore accepted from her words which would probably have been used in vain by the rest. Mr Ashby was charged to keep and "reconcile"

her, which he promised to do, or to feed her on barley bread if she proved obstinate.

As Elizabeth turned to follow him she pa.s.sed close by Robert Purcas, whom the gaoler was just about to take back to prison.

"'Thou hast set them in slippery places,'" whispered Purcas as she pa.s.sed him. "Keep thou true to Christ. O Elizabeth, mine own love, keep true!"

The tears rose to Elizabeth's eyes. "Pray for me, Robin," she said.

And then each was led away.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

RESPITE.

The Commissioners who tried these prisoners were thoroughly worldly men, who really cared nothing about the doctrines which they burned people for not believing. Had it been otherwise, when Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, less than two years afterwards, these men would have shown themselves willing to suffer in their turn. But most of them did not do this--seldom even to the extent of losing promotion, scarcely ever to that of losing life. They simply wheeled round again to what they had been in the reign of Edward the Sixth.

It is possible to respect men who are willing to lose their lives for the sake of what they believe to be true, even though you may think them quite mistaken. But how can you respect a man who will not run the risk of losing a situation or a few pounds in defence of the truth? It is not possible.

After the trial of the Colchester prisoners, the Commissioners pa.s.sed on to other places, and the town was quiet for a time. Mrs Silverside, Johnson and the children, and Purcas, remained in prison in the Moot Hall, and Elizabeth Foulkes was as truly a prisoner in the house of Henry Ashby. At first she was very kindly treated, in the hope of inducing her to recant. But as time went on, things were altered. Mr Ashby found that what Elizabeth understood by "being shown G.o.d's true way," was not being argued with by a priest, nor being commanded to obey the Church, but being pointed to some pa.s.sage in the Bible which agreed with what he said; and since what he said was not in accordance with the Bible, of course he could not show her any texts which agreed with it.

The Church of Rome herself admits that people who read the Bible for themselves generally become Protestants. Does not common sense show that in that case the Protestant doctrines must be the doctrines of the Bible? Why should Rome be so anxious to shut up the Bible if her own doctrines are to be found there?

Above four months pa.s.sed on, and no change came to the prisoners, but there had not been any fresh arrests. The other Gospellers began to breathe more freely, and to hope that the worst had come already. Mrs Wade was left at liberty; Mr Ewring had not been taken; surely all would go well now!

How often we think the worst must be over, just a minute before it comes upon us!

A little rap on Margaret Thurston's door brought her to open it.

"Why, Rose! I'm fain to see thee, maid. Come in."

"My mother bade me tell you, Margaret," said Rose, when the door was shut, "that there shall be a Scripture reading in our house this even.

Will you come?"

"That will we, right gladly, dear heart. At what hour?"

"Midnight. We dare not afore."

"We'll be there. How fares thy mother to-day?"

"Why, not over well. She seems but ill at ease. Her hands burn, and she is ever athirst. 'Tis an ill rheum, methinks."

"Ay, she has caught a bad cold," said Margaret. "Rose, I'll tell you what--we'll come a bit afore midnight, and see if we cannot help you.

My master knows a deal touching herbs; he's well-nigh as good as any apothecary, though I say it, and he'll compound an herb drink that shall do her good, with G.o.d's blessing, while I help you in the house. What say you? Have I well said?"

"Indeed, Margaret, and I'd be right thankful if you would, for it'll be hard on Father if he's neither Mother nor me to do for him--she, sick abed, and me waiting on her."

"Be sure it will! But I hope it'll not be so bad as that. Well, then, look you, we'll shut up the hut and come after you. You haste on to her, and when I've got things a bit tidy, and my master's come from work--he looked to be overtime to-night--we'll run over to Bentley, and do what we can."

Rose thanked her again, and went on with increased speed. She found her mother no better, and urged her to go to bed, telling her that Margaret was close at hand. It was now about five in the afternoon.

Alice agreed to this, for she felt almost too poorly to sit up. She went to bed, and Rose flew about the kitchen, getting all finished that she could before Margaret should arrive.

It was Sat.u.r.day night, and the earliest hours of the Sabbath were to be ushered in by the "reading." Only a few neighbours were asked, for it was necessary now to be very careful. Half-a-dozen might be invited, as if to supper; but the times when a hundred or more had a.s.sembled to hear the Word of G.o.d were gone by. Would they ever come again? They dared not begin to read until all prying eyes and ears were likely to be closed in sleep; and the reader's voice was low, that n.o.body might be roused next door. Few people could read then, especially among the labouring cla.s.s, so that, except on these occasions, the poorer Gospellers had no hope of hearing the words of the Lord.

The reading was over, and one after another of the guests stole silently out into the night--black, noiseless shadows, going up the lane into the village, or down it on the way to Thorpe. At length the last was gone except the Thurstons, who offered to stay for the night. John Thurston lay down in the kitchen, and Margaret, finding Alice Mount apparently better, said she would share Rose's bed.

Alice Mount's malady was what we call a bad feverish cold, and generally we do not expect it to do anything more than make the patient very uncomfortable for a week. But in Queen Mary's days they knew very much less about colds than we do, and they were much more afraid of them. It was only six years since the last attack of the terrible sweating sickness--the last ever to be, but they did not know that--and people were always frightened of anything like a cold turning to that dreadful epidemic wherein, as King Edward the Sixth writes in his diary, "if one took cold he died within three hours, and if he escaped, it held him but nine hours, or ten at the most." It was, therefore, a relief to hear Alice say that she felt better, and urge Rose to go to bed.

"Well, it scarce seems worth while going to bed," said Margaret. "What time is it? Can you see the church clock, Rose?"

"We can when it's light," said Rose; "but I think you'll not see it now."

Margaret drew back the little curtain, but all was dark, and she let it drop again.

"It'll be past one, I reckon," said she.

"Oh, ay; a good way on toward two," was Rose's answer.

"Rose, have you heard aught of Bessy Foulkes of late?"