The King's Daughters

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  RESPITE.

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

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

  After the trial of the Colchester prisoners, the Commissioners passed onto other places, and the town was quiet for a time. Mrs Silverside,Johnson and the children, and Purcas, remained in prison in the MootHall, and Elizabeth Foulkes was as truly a prisoner in the house ofHenry Ashby. At first she was very kindly treated, in the hope ofinducing her to recant. But as time went on, things were altered. MrAshby found that what Elizabeth understood by "being shown God's trueway," was not being argued with by a priest, nor being commanded to obeythe Church, but being pointed to some passage in the Bible which agreedwith what he said; and since what he said was not in accordance with theBible, 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 forthemselves generally become Protestants. Does not common sense showthat in that case the Protestant doctrines must be the doctrines of theBible? Why should Rome be so anxious to shut up the Bible if her owndoctrines are to be found there?

  Above four months passed on, and no change came to the prisoners, butthere had not been any fresh arrests. The other Gospellers began tobreathe more freely, and to hope that the worst had come already. MrsWade was left at liberty; Mr Ewring had not been taken; surely allwould go well now!

  How often we think the worst must be over, just a minute before it comesupon 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 wasshut, "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, andshe is ever athirst. 'Tis an ill rheum, methinks."

  "Ay, she has caught a bad cold," said Margaret. "Rose, I'll tell youwhat--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 anyapothecary, though I say it, and he'll compound an herb drink that shalldo her good, with God's blessing, while I help you in the house. Whatsay you? Have I well said?"

  "Indeed, Margaret, and I'd be right thankful if you would, for it'll behard on Father if he's neither Mother nor me to do for him--she, sickabed, 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 toher, and when I've got things a bit tidy, and my master's come fromwork--he looked to be overtime to-night--we'll run over to Bentley, anddo what we can."

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

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

  It was Saturday night, and the earliest hours of the Sabbath were to beushered in by the "reading." Only a few neighbours were asked, for itwas necessary now to be very careful. Half-a-dozen might be invited, asif to supper; but the times when a hundred or more had assembled to hearthe Word of God were gone by. Would they ever come again? They darednot begin to read until all prying eyes and ears were likely to beclosed in sleep; and the reader's voice was low, that nobody might beroused next door. Few people could read then, especially among thelabouring class, so that, except on these occasions, the poorerGospellers had no hope of hearing the words of the Lord.

  The reading was over, and one after another of the guests stole silentlyout into the night--black, noiseless shadows, going up the lane into thevillage, or down it on the way to Thorpe. At length the last was goneexcept the Thurstons, who offered to stay for the night. John Thurstonlay down in the kitchen, and Margaret, finding Alice Mount apparentlybetter, said she would share Rose's bed.

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

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

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

  Margaret drew back the little curtain, but all was dark, and she let itdrop 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?"

  "Nought. I've tried to see her, but they keep hot so close at MasterAshby's there's no getting to her."

  "And those poor little children of Johnson's. They're yet in prison,trow?"

  "Oh, ay. I wish they'd have let us have the baby Jane Hiltoft has it.She'll care it well enough for the body: but for the soul--"

  "Oh, when Johnson's burned--as he will be, I reckon--the children 'll bebred up in convents, be sure," was Margaret's answer.

  "Nay! I'll be sure of nought so bad as that, as long as God's inheaven."

  "There's no miracles now o' days, Rose."

  "There's God's care, just as much as in Elijah's days. And, Margaret,they've burned little children afore now."

  "Eh, don't, Rose! you give me the cold chills!"

  "What's that?" Rose was listening intently.

  "What's what?" said Margaret, who had heard nothing.

  "That! Don't you hear the far-off tramp of men?"

  They looked at each other fearfully. Margaret knew well enough of whatRose thought--the Bailiff and his searching party. They stopped theirundressing. Nearer and nearer came that measured tread of a body ofmen. It paused, went on, came close under the window, and paused again.Then a thundering rattle came at the door.

  "Open, in the Queen's name!"

  Then they knew it had come--not the worst, but that which led to it--thebeginning of the end.

  Rose quietly, but quickly, put her gown on again. Before she was ready,she heard her step-father's heavy tread as he went down the stairs;heard him draw the bolt, and say, as he opened the door, in calm tones--

  "Good-morrow, Master Bailiff. Pray you enter with all honour, an' youcome in the Queen's name."

  Just then the church clock struck two. Two o'clock on the Sabbathmorning!