One Snowy Night Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO.

  VALIANT FOR THE FAITH.

  "As labourers in Thy vineyard, Send us out, Christ, to be, Content to bear the burden Of weariness for Thee.

  "We ask no other wages When Thou shalt call us Home, But to have shared the travail Which makes Thy kingdom come."

  It is popularly supposed that surnames only came into existence with thereign of King John. This is not quite an accurate assertion. Theyexisted from the Conquest, but were chiefly personal, and apart from thegreat feudal families, only began at that date to consolidate andcrystallise into hereditary names. So far as common people wereconcerned, in the reign of Henry the Second, a man's surname was usuallyrestricted to himself. He was named either from one of his parents, asJohn William-son, or John Fitz-mildred; from his habitation, as John bythe Brook; from his calling, as John the Tanner; from some peculiarityin his costume, as John Whitehood,--in his person, as John Fairhair,--inhis mind, as John Lovegood,--in his tastes, as John Milk-sop,--or in hishabits, as John Drinkdregs. If he removed from one place to another, hewas likely to change his name, and to become known, say at Winchester,as John de Nottingham; or if his father were a priest who was awell-known person, he would not improbably be styled JohnFiz-al-Prester. [Note 1.] It will readily be seen that the majority ofthese names were not likely to descend to a second generation. The sonof John William-son would be Henry John-son, or Henry Alice-son; hemight or might not retain the personal name, or the trade-name; but theplace-name he probably would inherit. This explains the reason why solarge a majority of our modern surnames are place-names, whether inrespect of a town, as Nottingham, Debenham, Brentwood: or of a countrylocality, as Brook, Lane, Hill, etcetera. Now and then a series ofJohns in regular descent would fix the name of Johnson on the family; orthe son and grandson pursuing the same calling as the father, would turnthe line into Tanners. All surnames have arisen in such a manner.

  Our friends in Kepeharme Lane knew nothing of surnames otherwise thanpersonal, apart from the great territorial families of Normanimmigration, who brought their place-names with them. Manning Brown wasso termed from his complexion; his elder son, not being speciallyremarkable, was known merely as Romund Fitz-Manning; but the younger, inhis boyhood of a somewhat impetuous temper, had conferred on him theepithet of Haimet Escorceueille, or Burntown. The elder brother ofManning was dubbed Gilbert Cuntrevent, or Against-the-Wind; and his twosons, of whom one was the head porter, and another a watchman, at theCastle, were called Osbert le Porter and Stephen Esueillechien, orWatchdog,--the last term evidently a rendering of English into_dog-French_. Our forefathers were apt hands at giving nicknames.Their epithets were always direct and graphic, sometimes highlysatirical, some very unpleasant, and some very picturesque. Isel, whowas recognised as a woman of a complaining spirit, was commonly spokenof as Isel the Sweet; while her next neighbour, who lorded it over avery meek husband, received the pungent appellation of FrannaGillemichel. [Note 2.]

  The day after the arrival of the Germans, the porter's wife came down tosee her kindred.

  "What, you've got some of those queer folks here?" she said in a loudwhisper to Isel, though Gerhardt was not present, and his wife andsister could not understand a word she spoke.

  "Ay, they seem decentish folks," was the reply, as Isel washed hereel-like lampreys for a pie--the fish which had, according to tradition,proved the death of Henry the First.

  "Oh, do they so? You mind what you are after. Osbert says he makes noaccount of them. He believes they're Jews, if not worse."

  "Couldn't be worse," said Isel sententiously. "Nothing of the sort,Anania. They say their prayers oftener than we do."

  "Ay, but what to? Just tell me that. Old Turguia has some in herhouse, and she says they take never a bit of notice of our Lady norSaint Helen, that she has upstairs and down; they just kneel down andfall a-praying anywhere. What sort of work do you call that?"

  "I don't know as I wish to call it anything in particular, withoutyou're very anxious," replied Isel.

  "But I am anxious about it, Aunt. These folks are in your house, and ifthey are witches and such like, it's you and the girls who will suffer."

  "Well, do you think it's much matter?" asked Isel, putting aside thelampreys, and taking up a bushel basket of Kentish pearmains. "If ourLady could hear me in one corner, I reckon she could hear me inanother."

  "But to turn their backs on them!" remonstrated Anania.

  "Well, I turn mine on her, when I'm at work, many a time of a day."

  "Work--ay. But not when you're at prayer, I suppose?"

  "Oh, it'll be all right at last, I hope," said Isel a little uneasily.

  "Hope's poor fare, Aunt. But I tell you, these folks are after no good.Why, only think! five of them got taken in by those rascals of Jews--three in Benefei's house, and two at Jurnet's. _They'd_ never havetaken them in, depend on it, if they hadn't known they weren't so muchbetter than they should be."

  Agnes and Ermine understood none of these words, though they saw readilyenough that the looks Anania cast upon them were not friendly. ButDerette spoke up for her friends.

  "They're much better than you, Cousin Anania!" said that downright youngwoman.

  "Keep a civil tongue in your head," replied Anania sharply.

  "I'd rather have a true one," was the child's answer; "and I'm not surethey always go together."

  "Osbert says," pursued Anania, ignoring Derette, "that he expectsthere'll be a stir when my Lord comes to hear of them. Much if theydon't get turned out, bag and baggage. Serve 'em right, too!"

  "They haven't got any bags," said literal Derette. "I don't thinkthey've any of them any clothes but what they wear. Only Gerard's got abook."

  "A book! What is it about?" cried Anania. "Is he a priest?--surelynot!"

  Only a priest or monk, in her eyes, could have any business with a book.

  "Oh no, he's no priest; he's a weaver."

  "Then what on earth is he doing with a book? You get hold of it, Aunt!I'll warrant you it's some sort of wickedness--safe to be! Black spellsto turn you all into ugly toads, or some such naughty stuff--take myword for it!"

  "I'd rather not, Cousin Anania, for you haven't seen it, so your wordisn't much good," said Derette calmly.

  "It's not like to do us much good when we do see it," observed Isel,"because it will be in their own language, no doubt."

  "But if it's a witch-book, it's like to have horoscopes and all mannerof things in it!" said Anania, returning to the charge.

  "Then it is not, for I have seen it," said Flemild. "It is in a foreignlanguage; but all in it beside words is only red lines ruled round thepages."

  "He read me a piece out of it," added Derette; "and it was a prettystory about our Lady, and how she carried our Lord away when He was ababy, that the wicked King should not get hold of Him. It wasn't bad atall, Cousin Anania. You are bad, to say such things when you don't knowthey are true."

  "Hush, child!" said her mother.

  "I'll hush," responded Derette, marching off to Agnes and the baby: "butit's true, for all that."

  "That girl wants teaching manners," commented Anania. "I really thinkit my duty, Aunt, to tell you that nearly every body that knows you istalking of that child's forward manners and want of respect for herbetters. You don't hear such remarks made, but I do. She will beinsufferable if the thing is not stopped."

  "Oh, well, stop it, then!" said Isel wearily, "only leave me in peace.I'm just that tired!--"

  "I beg your pardon, Aunt! Derette is not my child. I have no right tocorrect her. If I had--"

  Anania left it to be understood that the consequences would not be toher little cousin's taste.

  "She'll get along well enough, I dare say. I haven't time to botherwith her," said Isel.

  "She will just be a bye-word in the whole town, Aunt. You don't knowhow people talk. I've heard it said that you are too idle to take anypains with the child."

>   "Idle?--me!" cried poor Isel. "I'm up long before you, and I don't geta wink of sleep till the whole town's been snoring for an hour or more:and every minute of the time as full as it can be crammed. I'll tellyou what, Anania, I don't believe you know what work means. If you'djust change with me for a week, you'd have an idea or two more in yourhead at the end of it."

  "I see, Aunt, you are vexed at what I told you," replied Anania in atone of superior virtue. "I am thankful to say I have not my house inthe mess yours is, and my children are decently behaved. I thought itonly kind to let you know the remarks that are being made: but ofcourse, if you prefer to be left ignorant, I don't need to stay. Goodmorrow! Pray don't disturb yourself, Flemild--I can let myself out, asyou are all so busy. You'll be sorry some day you did not take advice.But I never obtrude my advice; if people don't want it, I shall nottrouble them with it. It's a pity, that's all."

  "Oh deary, deary!" cried poor Isel, as Anania sailed away with her headheld rather higher than usual. "Why ever did she come to plague me,when I've got my hands as full already!--And what on earth does shemean, calling me names, and Derette too? The child's good enough--onlya bit thoughtless, as children always are. I do wonder why folks can'tlet a body alone!"

  For three days the Germans rested peacefully in their new quarters. Atthe end of that time, Gerhardt called on all his little company, anddesired them to meet him early on the following morning on a piece ofvacant ground, a few miles from the city. They met as agreed, eighteenmen and eleven women, of all ages, from young Conrad whose moustache waslittle more than down, to old Berthold who carried the weight ofthreescore and fifteen years.

  "My friends," said Gerhardt, "let us speak to our God, before we sayanything to each other."

  All knelt, and Gerhardt poured forth a fervent prayer that God would bewith them and aid them in the work which they had undertaken; that Hewould supply them with bread to eat, and raiment to put on; that Hewould keep the door of their lips, that they should speak neither guile,discourtesy, nor error, yet open their mouths that with all boldnessthey might preach His Word; that none of them might be ashamed toconfess the faith of Christ crucified, nor seek to hide the offence ofthe cross for the sake of pleasing men. A whole-hearted Amen was theresponse from the group around him.

  They rose, and Gerhardt repeated by heart three Psalms--the fifteenth,the forty-sixth, and the ninetieth--not in Latin, but in sonorousGerman, many of his compatriots taking up the words and repeating themwith him, in a style which made it plain that they were very familiar.Then Gerhardt spoke.

  "I will but shortly remind you, my friends," he said, "of the reason forwhich we are here. Hundreds of years ago, it pleased God to send to usGermans a good English pastor, who name was Winfrid, when we were poorheathens, serving stocks and stones. He came with intent to deliver usfrom that gloomy bondage, and to convert us to the faith of Christ. Godso blessed his efforts that as their consequence, Germany is Christianat this day; and he, leaving his English name of Winfrid, thePeace-Conqueror (though a truer name he could never have had), is knownamong us as Boniface, the doer of good deeds. Since his day, fourhundred years have passed, and the Church of Christ throughout the worldhas woefully departed from the pure faith. We are come out, like theApostles, a little company,--like them, poor and unlearned,--but rich inthe knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord; we are come to tread intheir steps, to do the work they did, and to call the world back to thepure truth of the earliest days of Christendom. And we come here,because it is here that our first duty is due. We come to give back toEngland the precious jewel of the true faith which she gave to us fourhundred years ago. Let every one of us clearly understand for what weare to be ready. We tread in our Master's steps, and our Master was notflattered and complimented by the world. He came bringing salvation,and the world would none of it, nor of Him. So, if we find the worldhates us, let us be neither surprised nor afraid, but remember that ithated Him, and that as He was, so are we in this world. Let us beprepared to go with Him, if need be, both into prison and to death. Ifwe suffer with Him, we shall reign. Brethren, if we seek to reign, wemust make account first to suffer."

  "We are ready!" cried at least a dozen voices.

  "Will ye who are foremost now, be the foremost in that day?" askedGerhardt, looking round upon them with a rather compassionate smile."God grant it may be so! Now, my friends, I must further remind you--not that ye know it not, but that ye may bear its importance in mind--that beyond those beliefs common to all Christians, our faith confessesthree great doctrines which ye must teach.

  "First, that Holy Scripture alone containeth all things necessary tosalvation; and nothing is to be taught as an article of faith but whatGod has revealed.

  "Secondly, the Church of God consists of all who hear and understand theWord of God. All the saved were elect of God before the foundation ofthe world; all who are justified by Christ go into life eternal.Therefore it follows that there is no Purgatory, and all masses aredamnable, especially those for the dead. And whosoever upholds freewill--namely, man's capacity to turn to God as and when he will--deniespredestination and the grace of God. Man is by nature utterly depraved;and all the evil that he doth proceeds from his own depravity.

  "Thirdly, we acknowledge one God and one Mediator--the Lord JesusChrist; and reject the invocation of saints or angels. We own twoSacraments--baptism and the Supper of the Lord; but all Churchobservances not ordained by Christ and the Apostles, we reject as idlesuperstitions and vain traditions of men. [Note 3.]

  "This is our faith. Brethren, do ye all stand banded together in thisfaith?"

  Up went every right arm, some quietly, some impetuously.

  "Furthermore," continued the leader, "as to conduct. It is incumbentupon us to honour all secular powers, with subjection, obedience,promptitude, and payment of tribute. On the Sabbath, cease ye from allworldly labours, abstain from sin, do good works, and pay your devotionsto God. Remember, to pray much is to be fervent in prayer, not to usemany words nor much time. Be orderly in all things; in attire, so faras lies in your power, avoid all appearance of either pride or squalor.We enter no trade, that we may be free from falsehood: we live by thelabour of our hands, and are content with necessaries, not seeking toamass wealth. Be ye all chaste, temperate, sober, meek: owe no mananything; give no reason for complaint. Avoid taverns and dancing, asoccasions of evil. The women among you I charge to be modest in mannersand apparel, to keep themselves free from foolish jesting and levity ofthe world, especially in respect of falsehood and oaths. Keep yourmaidens, and see that they wander not; beware of suffering them to deckand adorn themselves. `We serve the Lord Christ.' `Watch ye, standfast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong!' Read the Scriptures,serve God in humility, be poor in spirit. Remember that Antichrist isall that opposeth Christ. `Love not the world, neither the things ofthe world.' `Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made usfree,' and bear in mind that ye are sent forth as sheep in the midst ofwolves, as under-shepherds to seek for His strayed sheep. Beware thatye glorify not yourselves, but Him.

  "Berthold, Arnulph, and Guelph, ye tarry in this city with me, goingforth to preach in the surrounding villages, as the Lord shall grant usopportunity. Heinrich, Otho, Conrad, and Magnus, ye go northward toevangelise in like manner. Friedrich, Dietbold, Sighard, and Leopold,ye to the south; Albrecht, Johann, and Hermann, ye to the east; Wilhelm,Philipp, and Ludwig, ye to the west. Every man shall take with him wifeand children that hath them. The elder women among us--Cunegonde,Helena, Luitgarde, Elisabeth, and Margarethe--I especially exhort toinstruct the young women, as the Apostle bids, and to evangelise in suchmanner as women may, by modest and quiet talking with other women. Oncein the year let us meet here, to compare experiences, resolvedifficulties, and to comfort and edify one another in our work. And nowI commend you to God, and to the Word of His grace. Go ye forth, strongin the Lord, and in the power of His might, always abounding in the workof the Lord, te
aching all to observe whatsoever He has commanded. Forlo! He is with us always, even unto the end of the world."

  Another fervent prayer followed the address. Then each of the littlecompany came up in turn to Gerhardt, who laid his hand upon the head ofevery one, blessing them in the name of the Lord. As each thus tookleave, he set out in the direction which he had been bidden to take,eight accompanied by their wives, and three by children. Then Gerhardt,with Agnes and Ermine, turned back into the town; Berthold, with hiswife Luitgarde, and his daughter Adelheid, followed; while Arnulph andGuelph, who were young unmarried men, went off to begin their preachingtour in the villages.

  The day afterwards, the priest of Saint Aldate's rapped at the door ofthe Walnut Tree. It was opened by Flemild, who made a low reverencewhen she saw him. With hand uplifted in blessing, and--"Christ save allhere!"--he walked into the house, where Isel received him with anequally respectful courtesy.

  "So I hear, my daughter, you have friends come to see you?"

  "Well, they aren't friends exactly," said Isel: "leastwise not yet. Maybe, in time--hope they will."

  "Whence come they, then, if they be strangers?"

  "Well," replied Isel, who generally began her sentences with thatconvenient adverb, "to tell truth, Father, it beats me to say. They'vecome over-sea, from foreign parts; but I can't get them outlandish namesround my tongue."

  "Do they speak French or English?"

  "One of 'em speaks French, after a fashion, but it's a queer fashion.As to English, I haven't tried 'em."

  The Reverend Dolfin (he had no surname) considered the question.

  "They are Christians, of course?"

  "That they are, Father, and good too. Why, they say their prayersseveral times a day."

  The priest did not think that item of evidence so satisfactory as Iseldid. But he had not come with any intention of ferreting out doubtfulcharacters or suspicious facts. He was no ardent heretic-hunter, but aquiet, peaceable man, as inoffensive as a priest could be.

  "Decent and well-behaved?" he asked.

  "As quiet and sensible as any living creature in this street," Iselassured him. "The women are good workers, and none of them's a talker,and that's no small blessing!"

  "Truly, thou art right there, my daughter," said the priest, who,knowing nothing about women, was under the impression that they rarelydid any thing but talk, and perform a little desultory housework in theintervals between the paragraphs. "So far, good. I trust they willcontinue equally well-behaved, and will give no scandal to theirneighbours."

  "I'll go surety for that," answered Isel rather warmly; "more than Iwill for their neighbours giving them none. Father, I'd give a silverpenny you'd take my niece Anania in hand; she'll be the death of me ifshe goes on. Do give her a good talking-to, and I'll thank you all thedays of my life!"

  "With what does she go on?" asked the priest, resting both hands on hissilver-headed staff.

  "Words!" groaned poor Isel. "And they bain't pretty words, Father--notby no manner of means. She's for ever and the day after interferingwith every mortal thing one does. And her own house is just right-downslatternly, and her children are coming up any how. If she'd just spendthe time a-scouring as she spends a-chattering, her house 'd be thecleanest place in Oxfordshire. But as for the poor children, I'm thatsorry! Whatever they do, or don't do, they get a slap for it; and thenshe turns round on me because I don't treat mine the same. Why, there'snothing spoils children's tempers like everlasting scolding and slappingof 'em. I declare I don't know which to be sorriest for, them thatnever gets no bringing up at all, or them that's slapped from morning tonight."

  "Does her husband allow all that?"

  "Bless you, Father, he's that easy a man, if she slapped _him_, he'donly laugh and give it back. It's true, when he's right put out he'lltake the whip to her; but he'll stand a deal first that he'd better not.Biggest worry I have, she is!"

  "Be thankful, my daughter, if thy biggest worry be outside thine owndoor."

  "That I would, Father, if I could keep her outside, but she's alwaysa-coming in."

  The priest laughed.

  "I will speak to my brother Vincent about her," he said. "You know theCastle is not in my parish."

  "Well, I pray you, Father, do tell Father Vincent to give it her strong.She's one o' them that won't do with it weak. It'll just run off herlike water on a duck's back. Father, do you think my poor man 'll evercome back?"

  The priest grew grave when asked that question.

  "I cannot tell, my daughter. Bethink thee, that if he fall in that holyconflict, he is assured of Heaven. How long is it since his departing?"

  "It's two years good, Father--going in three: and I'm glad enough heshould be sure of Heaven, but saving your presence, I want him here onearth. It's hard work for a lone woman to bring up four children, nevername boys, that's as rampageous as young colts, and about as easy tocatch. And the younger and sillier they are, the surer they are tothink they know better than their own mother."

  "That is a standing grievance, daughter," said the priest with a smile,as he rose to take leave. "Well, I am glad to hear so good a report ofthese strangers. So long as they conduct themselves well, and come tochurch, and give no offence to any, there can be no harm in your givingthem hospitality. But remember that if they give any occasion ofscandal, your duty will be to let me know, that I may deal with them.The saints keep you!"

  No occasion of scandal required that duty from Isel. Every now and thenGerhardt absented himself--for what purpose she did not know; but heleft Agnes and Ermine behind, and they never told the object of hisjourneys. At home he lived quietly enough, generally following histrade of weaving, but always ready to do any thing required by hishostess. Isel came to congratulate herself highly on the presence ofher quiet, kindly, helpful guests. In a house where the whole upperfloor formed a single bedchamber, divided only by curtains stretchedacross, and the whole ground-floor was parlour and kitchen in one, a fewinmates more or less, so long as they were pleasant and peaceable, wereof small moment. Outwardly, the Germans conducted themselves in no waypointedly different from their English hosts. They indulged in ratherlonger prayers, but this only increased the respect in which they wereheld. They went to church like other people; and if they omitted theusual reverences paid to the images, they did it so unobtrusively thatit struck and shocked no one.

  The Roman Church, in 1160, was yet far from filling the measure of heriniquity. The mass was in Latin, but transubstantiation was only a"pious opinion;" there were invocation of saints and worship of images,prayers for the dead, and holy water; but dispensations and indulgenceswere uninvented, the Inquisition was unknown, numbers of the clergy weremarried men, and that organ of tyranny and sin, termed auricularconfession, had not yet been set up to grind the consciences and tormentthe hearts of those who sought to please God according to the light theyenjoyed. Without that, it was far harder to persecute; for how could aman be indicted for the belief in his heart, if he chose to keep thedoor of his lips?

  The winter passed quietly away, and Isel was--for her--well pleased withher new departure. The priest, having once satisfied himself that theforeign visitors were nominal Christians, and gave no scandal to theirneighbours, ceased to trouble himself about them. Anania continued tomake disagreeable remarks at times, but gradually even she became morecallous on the question, and nobody else ever said any thing.

  "I do wonder if Father Vincent have given her a word or two," said Isel."She hasn't took much of it, if he have. If she isn't at me for onething, she's at me for another. If it were to please the saints to makeOsbert the Lord King's door-keeper, so as he'd go and live at London orWindsor, I shouldn't wonder if I could get over it!"

  "Ah, `the tongue can no man tame,'" observed Gerhardt with a smile.

  "I don't so much object to tongues when they've been in salt," saidIsel. "It's fresh I don't like 'em, and with a live temper behind of'em. They don't agree with me then."


  "It is the live temper behind, or rather the evil heart, which is thething to blame. `Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts,' which growinto evil words and deeds. Set the heart right, and the tongue willsoon follow."

  "I reckon that's a bit above either you or me," replied Isel with asigh.

  "A man's thoughts are his own," interposed Haimet rather warmly."Nobody has a right to curb them."

  "No man can curb them," said Gerhardt, "unless the thinker put a curb onhimself. He that can rule his own thoughts is king of himself: he thatnever attempts it is `a reed driven with the wind and tossed.'"

  "Oh, there you fly too high for me," said Haimet. "If my acts and wordsare inoffensive, I have a right to my thoughts."

  "Has any man a right to evil thoughts?" asked Gerhardt.

  "What, you are one of those precise folks who make conscience of theirthoughts? I call that all stuff and nonsense," replied Haimet, throwingdown the hammer he was using.

  "If I make no conscience of my thoughts, of what am I to makeconscience?" was the answer. "Thought is the seed, act the flower. Ifyou do not wish for the flower, the surest way is not to sow the seed.Sow it, and the flower will blossom, whether you will or no."

  "That sort of thing may suit you," said Haimet rather in an irritatedtone. "I could never get along, if I had to be always measuring mythoughts with an ell-wand in that fashion."

  "Do you prefer the consequences?" asked Gerhardt.

  "Consequences!--what consequences?"

  "Rather awkward ones, sometimes. Thoughts of hatred, for instance, mayissue in murder, and that may lead to your own death. If the thoughtshad been curbed in the first instance, the miserable results would havebeen spared to all the sufferers. And `no man liveth to himself': it isvery seldom that you can bring suffering on one person only. It isalmost sure to run over to two or three more. And as the troubles ofevery one of them will run over to another two or three, like circles inthe water, the sorrow keeps ever widening, so that the consequences ofone small act or word for evil are incalculable. It takes God to reckonthem."

  "Eh, don't you, now!" said Isel with a shudder. "Makes me go all creepylike, that does. I shouldn't dare to do a thing all the days of mylife, if I looked at every thing that way."

  "Friend," said Gerhardt gravely, "these things _are_. It does notdestroy them to look away from them. It is not given to us to choosewhether we will act, but only how we will act. In some manner, for goodor for ill, act we must."

  "I declare I won't listen to you, Gerard. I'm going creepy-crawly thisminute. Oh deary me! you do make things look just awful."

  "Rubbish!" said Haimet, driving a nail into the wall with unnecessaryvehemence.

  "It is the saying of a wise man, friends," remarked Gerhardt, "that `hethat contemneth small things shall fall by little and little.' And withequal wisdom he saith again, `Be not confident in a plain way.'" [Note5.]

  "But it is all nonsense to say `we must act,'" resumed Haimet. "We neednot act in any way unless we choose. How am I acting if I sit here anddo nothing?"

  "Unless you are resting after work is done, you are setting an exampleof idleness or indecision. Not to do, is sometimes to do in a mosteffectual way. Not to hinder the doing of evil, when it lies in yourpower, is equivalent to doing it."

  Haimet stared at Gerhardt for a moment.

  "What a wicked lot of folks you would make us out to be!"

  "So we are," said Gerhardt with a quiet smile.

  "Oh, I see!--that's how you come by your queer notions of every man'sheart being bad. Well, you are consistent, I must admit."

  "I come by that notion, because I have seen into my own. I think I havemost thoroughly realised my own folly by noting in how many cases, if Iwere endued with the power of God, I should not do what He does: and inlike manner, I most realise my own wickedness by seeing the frequentinstances wherein my will raises itself up in opposition to the will ofGod."

  "But how is it, then, that I never see such things in myself?"

  "Your eyes are shut, for one thing. Moreover, you set up your own willas the standard to be followed, without seeking to ascertain the will ofGod. Therefore you do not see the opposition between them."

  "Oh, I don't consider myself a saint or an angel. I have done foolishthings, of course, and I dare say, some things that were not exactlyright. We are all sinners, I suppose, and I am much like other people.But taking one thing with another, I think I am a very decent fellow. Ican't worry over my `depravity,' as you do. I am not depraved. I knowseveral men much worse than I am in every way."

  "Is that the ell-wand by which God will measure you? He will not holdyou up against those men, but against the burning snow-white light ofHis own holiness. What will you look like then?"

  "Is that the way you are going to be measured, too?"

  "I thank God, no. Christ our Lord will be measured for me, and He hasfulfilled the whole Law."

  "And why not for me?" said Haimet fiercely. "Am I not a baptisedChristian, just as much as you?"

  "Friend, you will not be asked in that day whether you were a baptisedChristian, but whether you were a believing Christian. Sins that arelaid on Christ are gone--they exist no longer. But sins that are not sodestroyed have to be borne by the sinner himself."

  "Well, I call that cowardice," said Haimet, drawing a red herring acrossthe track, "to want to burden somebody else with your sins. Why nothave the manliness to bear them yourself?"

  "If you are so manly," answered Gerhardt with another of his quietsmiles, "will you oblige me, Haimet, by taking up the Castle, andsetting it down on Presthey?"

  "What are you talking about now? How could I?"

  "Much more easily than you could atone for one sin. What do you call aman who proposes to do the impossible?"

  "A fool."

  "And what would you call the bondman whose master had generously paidhis debt, and who refused to accept that generosity, but insisted onworking it out himself, though the debt was more than he could dischargeby the work of a thousand years?"

  "Call him what you like," said Haimet, not wishing to go too deeply intothe question.

  "I will leave you to choose the correct epithet," said Gerhardt, andwent on with his carving in silence.

  The carving was beginning to bring in what Isel called "a pretty penny."Gerhardt's skill soon became known, and the Countess of Oxford employedhim to make coffers, and once sent for him to the Castle to carvewreaths on a set of oak panels. He took the work as it came, and in theintervals, or on the summer evenings, he preached on the village greensin the neighbourhood. His audiences were often small, but his doctrinesspread quietly and beneath the surface. Not one came forward to joinhim openly, but many went away with thoughts that they had never hadbefore. Looked on from the outside, Gerhardt's work seemed of no value,and blessed with no success. Yet it is possible that its inwardprogress was not little. There may have been silent souls that livedsaintly lives in that long past century, who owed their first awakeningor their gradual edification to some word of his; it may be that thesturdy resistance of England to Papal aggression in the subsequentcentury had received its impetus from his unseen hand. Who shall saythat he achieved nothing? The world wrote "unsuccessful" upon his work:did God write "blessed"? One thing at least I think he must havewritten--"Thou hast been faithful in a few things." And while themeasure of faithfulness is not that of success, it is that of theultimate reward, in that Land where many that were first shall be last,and the last first. "They that are with" the Conqueror in the lastgreat battle, are not the successful upon earth, but the "called andchosen and faithful."

  "If any man serve Me, let him follow Me,"--and what work ever had lessthe appearance of success than that which seemed to close on Calvary?

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  Note 1. "William, son of the fat priest," occurs on the Pipe Roll for1176, Unless "Grossus" is to be taken as
a Christian name.

  Note 2. Servant or slave of Michael. The Scottish _gillie_ comes fromthe same root.

  Note 3. These are the tenets of the ancient Waldensian Church, withwhich, so far as they are known, those of the German mission agreed.(They are exactly those of the Church of England, set forth in herSixth, Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, Seventeenth, Nineteenth, Twentieth,Twenty-Second, Twenty-Fifth, and Thirty-First Articles of Religion.)She accepted two of our three Creeds, excluding the Nicene.

  Note 4. Ecclesiasticus nineteen 1, and thirty-two 21. The WaldensianChurch regarded the Apocrypha as the Church of England does--not asinspired Scripture, but as a good book to be read "for example of lifeand instruction of manners."