The Kings Daughters | Page 9

sure she looked in at the Blue Bell, when Rose would help her if she possibly could: and giving the jar to Johnson, she bade him good-night, and turned back up the lane. Sir Thomas had walked on, as Rose supposed: at any rate, he was not to be seen. She went nearly a mile without seeing any one, until Margaret Thurston's cottage came in sight. As Rose began to go a little more slowly, she heard footsteps behind her, and the next minute she was joined--to her surprise--by the priest.
"My daughter," he said, in a soft, kind voice, "I think thou art Rose Allen?"
Rose dropped a courtesy, and said she was.
"I have been wishful to speak with some of thy father's household," said Sir Thomas, in the same gentle way: "so that I am fain to meet thee forth this even. Tell me, my child, is there illness in the house or no?"
Rose breathed quickly: she guessed pretty well what was coming.
"No, Father," she answered; "we are all in good health, God be thanked for that same."
"Truly. I am glad to hear thee so speak, my daughter, and in especial that thou rememberest to thank God. But wherefore, then, being in good health, have ye not come to give thanks to God in His own house, these eight Sundays past? Ye have been regular aforetime, since ye were back from the Bishop's Court. Surely it is not true--I do hope and trust it is not true, that ye be slipping yet again into your past evil ways of ill opinions and presumptuous sin?"
The reason why the Mounts had not been to church was because the services were such as they could no longer join in. Queen Mary had brought back the Popish mass, and all the images which King Edward had done away with; so that to go to church was not to worship God but to worship idols. And so terrible was the persecution Mary had allowed to be set up, that the penalty for refusing to do this was to be burnt to death for what she called heresy.
It was a terrible position for a young girl in which Rose Allen stood that night. This man not only held her life in his hands, but also those of her mother and her step-father. If he chose to inform against them, the end of it might be death by fire. For one moment Rose was silent, during which she cried silently but most earnestly to God for wisdom and courage--wisdom to keep her from saying what might bring them into needless danger, and courage to stand true and firm to God and His truth.
"Might I be so bold as to pray you, Father," she said at last, "to ask at my mother the cause of such absence from mass? You wot I am but a young maid, and under direction of mine elders."
Sir Thomas Tye smiled to himself. He thought Rose a very cautious, prudent girl, who did not want to bring herself into trouble.
"So be it, my daughter," said he in the same gentle way. "Doubtless it was by direction of thine elders that then wert absent aforetime, ere ye were had up to the Bishop."
He meant it as a question, by which he hoped to entangle poor Rose. She was wise enough not to answer, but to let it pass as if he were merely giving his own opinion, about which she did not wish to say anything.
"Crafty girl!" thought Sir Thomas. Then he said aloud,--"The festival of our Lady cometh on apace: ye will surely have some little present for our blessed Lady?"
The Virgin Mary was then called "Our Lady."
"We be but poor folks," said Rose. "Truly, I know ye be poor folks," was the priest's reply. "Yet even poor folks do oft contrive to pleasure their friends by some little present. And if ye might bring no more than an handful of daisies from the field, yet is our Lady so gracious that she will deign to accept even so small an offering. Ye need not be empty-handed."
"I trust we shall do our duty," said poor Rose, in great perplexity. "Father, I cry you mercy if I stay me here, for I would fain speak with the woman of this cot."
"So do, my daughter," was the soft reply, "and I will call here belike, for I do desire to speak with Thurston." Poor Rose was at her wit's end. Her little manoeuvre had not succeeded as she hoped. She wanted to be rid of the unwelcome company of the priest; and now it seemed as if, by calling on Margaret Thurston instead of going straight home, she would only get more of it. However, she must do it now. She had nothing particular to