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"And why so?" I asked.
"Because, an you read and believe it, you will never go back
there," answered Dick; and that was all I could get out of
him.
May 12.
THE May games went off very well. We had all the usual
sports—Robin Hood and Little John, Maid Marian and all the
rest of them, and besides a Miracle play—the first ever seen
in these parts, and for mine own part I should hope it might
be the last. The players, it seems, were at Biddeford May
games, and hearing that we were to have unusual festivities
here, they sent a deputation hither, praying my Lord and
my father to patronize them. The Prior also gave them his
good word, so my Lord consented and won my father to do
the same.
The man gave her courteous thanks and turned away. Just
then Harry came to tell us that the play was about to begin,
and only waited our coming to the seats reserved for us.
"'Tis the Passion of our Lord they are about to play," said
the Prior of Stanton, who had his seat near us. "No one can
object to that, surely."
"But why not expend the time and treasure which these
things cost, in teaching the unlearned?" asked my mother.
The poor old fat priest got so red and did seem so
disturbed, that I was glad my mother made him no reply,
save a smile. Indeed, she had no time to do so, for the play
began directly.
I had never seen such an one before, and I must say I was
shocked. There were all the holy Apostles, our Lady
(represented by a simpering boy with a crack in his voice)
Pontius Pilate (a most truculent looking personage), the two
thieves, and worst of all, our Lord himself, besides devils
and angels in plenty. The people made their remarks freely
enough, and I can't say they seemed greatly solemnized or
edified. The part which pleased them most was when the
devils thrust Judas down to the infernal pit, and were then
kicked after him, without any ceremony, by the angels, who
afterward ascended to heaven, one at a time, on the same
cloud which had served our Lord, and which was worked in
plain sight by a man with a rope and a winch.
After the play was ended, the dancing began anew. Several
of the fathers were down from the convent, as usual, but
methought they were not very cordially received. And when
Father Jerome ventured to chuck Jan Lee's new wife under
the chin, with what I must needs say was rather a broad
jest, Jan gave him a look as black as thunder and drew his
bride away. I too had an encounter which did not please
me. I was standing by my father, and leaning on his arm,
when the Prior came up to us with the same dark priest who
had been in the church on Sunday, and presented him to
my father as Father Barnabas of Glastonbury. Then turning
to me:
"Methinks neither the plumes nor the place are very well
suited to the promised bride of Christ; how well soever they
may beseem fair Rosamond!" with an emphasis on the
name. It was now my father's turn to look black.
"Aye, there it is," said the prior. "Now may we see what
comes of these innovations. Soon every man will be ready
with his text and his commentary—according to the boast of
that archfiend Tyndale, which I heard him make to myself,
that he would so order matters that in a few years every
ploughboy should know more of Scripture than I did. And
what are we to do then!"
"Aye, daughter, that have I! I have both seen and read it!"
she answered.
"I was going to say, that this difference seems very strange
and sad to me," I went on. "If the Gospels are right—and
the true Gospel must be right—then is the Church wrong!"
"As to this book, you shall have it, if your father be willing
to let you run the risk. But count the cost, my child, and
pray for guidance to Him who has promised to give wisdom
to them that ask. When you have done so, come to me in
my closet, and I will put into your hands the word of God."
CHAPTER XXVII.
June 1.
How astonished I was to find that St. Peter and St. James
and other of the Apostles had been married—that our Lady
herself seems to have lived at home with her husband like
any other woman—and that she is nowhere represented as
bearing any rule, or being of more authority in the Church
than any other woman. Indeed, our Lord Himself said that
any one who had His word and kept it, was as near to Him
as His mother—"the same is my brother, and sister, and
mother"—are His words. And then this very Gospel, which
the priests keep so jealously from us, was at the first
preached to the common folk in those parts—they followed
Him in crowds to hear His words, and indeed very few of
the better or more religious class followed Him at all. But I
cannot write down all my thoughts—they are too new and
too precious. I must think them over.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
I HAVE had an adventure which hath bred serious
consequences in the household.
The night before last was very dark and sultry, with thick,
low hanging clouds, and a feeling of thunder in the air. The
sea was calling loudly, and Dobby's Pool roaring in that
hollow, boding tone, which always foretells a storm. I had
had a headache, and some threatenings of a chill, a
visitation to which I am now and then subject, and my
mother gave me a dose of her favorite spicy cordial, and
sent me early to bed.
"Wretched, apostate child! Will you doom your own soul and
your mother's to the flames of hell forever?"
She still pleaded for mercy, and in tones of such real and
abject terror, that I began to fear she might die of fright,
and rose to release her; but just as I was striking a light,
for the clouds had risen once more, and it was very dark,
my stepmother entered the room with a candle in her hand.
"I can't," said I. "Madam has taken the key—" (as indeed
she had, thinking, I dare say, that I should relent).
"Whoever you are, you must bake as you have brewed. I
fear the bread will not be to your taste."
"It is a joke that shall cost you dear," said my father, grimly.
"You shall spend the night in the prison you have chosen,
and in the morning you leave this house forever. But for her
sake whose memory you have outraged, the rising sun
should see you set in the stocks on the village green as a
thief and an impudent witch."
"Oh, Mistress Rosamond!" was all she could say at first, for
she was really weeping—and then—"'Twas all for your good
—to save your precious soul and your mother's."
"Now you are meddling with matters far too high for you,
Prudence!" said I. "As for my vows, there can be none
broken where there were none made, and for the rest,
beware my Lord's anger! If he should hear that you had but
breathed on the fair fame of his wife, it were better you had
never been born!"
What she said about lying has set me to looking up all the
passages in Scripture relating to the same. I find plenty of
them condemning the sin in the strongest terms, as even
that all liars shall have their part in the lake that burneth
with fire and brimstone, which is the second death; and yet
it is true, as she said, that the Church counts it but a venial
sin. I cannot understand it.
CHAPTER XXIX.
June 20.
"Rosamond, the time has come for you to decide upon your
way of life. If you are going back to the convent it is time
and more that you were gone. You know what your
mother's and my wishes once were on the subject. You
have seen what convent life is, and now you must decide
what you will do—whether you will become a nun, or live at
home."
"But not this minute, or this hour, dear heart," said madam,
who had hitherto been silent. "Take time, pray, ask counsel
of God and thine own heart, and then decide. Be sure that
we shall be only too glad to keep you with us as long as we
can."
She smiled.
I saw that she was right. Certainly the ague does not clear
one's head, and I am apt to have a return of it on any
unusual fatigue. So I kissed her good-night, said my