Chapter XXIV: April 25, Sunday

MY father and brother came home safely, and my Lady and I met them in the hall.

"Heyday, what lady have we here?" cried my father, cheerily. "Here, let me look at you. I must say she becomes her change of dress well, does she not, Harry?"

"She is liker my mother than ever," said Harry in his blunt way, and then to mend the matter, "I crave your pardon, Madam."

"For what?" asked my Lady, smiling on him kindly; whereat Harry blushed worse than ever, and retreated behind my father.

"Well, well, child, you are a good maid, and shall lose nothing by thus pleasuring your parents," said my father, patting my cheek as he spoke. "Your new ornaments show fairly on you, and as Harry says, make you more like than ever to your mother."

"Mistress Rosamond has inherited one of her mother's ornaments, worth more than gold or jewels," observed Master Ellenwood: "even that ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is beyond all price."

I could not but be pleased and pained too, for I knew very well that I did not deserve my tutor's praise. I know that I have anything but a meek spirit.

This morning we all went to church as usual, in the village. Father John has come home, and a strange priest with him—a Franciscan friar. I tried to think of nothing but my duty, but, truth to tell, my mind was a little distracted by my change of dress, and the thought that people were observing me. I was presently, however, effectually diverted by an announcement made from the altar by Father John—namely, that 'twas the King's pleasure that for the better instruction of the people in faith and duty, the Credo and the Ten Commandments should henceforth be said in English! This is a change indeed! I saw my Lady and Master Ellenwood exchange glances, and many wondering looks passed among the congregation. I thought Father John had no great love to his task, and the strange priest looked black as night. There was no sermon, and we were presently walking home again over the green.

My father stopped to speak to some one, and Harry gave his hand to my Lady to lead her, blushing like a rose as he did so, but as usual she put him at his ease presently, and he walked by her side in silence, till she said playfully:

"A groat for your thoughts, my fair son!"

Harry answered without any of his usual hesitation:

"I am thinking, Madam, about that second commandment—about the images, I mean. Why then do we have images in the churches?"

"Master Ellenwood, you are the scholar," said my Lady, turning to him. "Will you resolve us our doubt? Why do we have images in the churches?"

"The doctors would say that it is to excite our devotion by the presence of visible representations—not for that the image should be worshipped," answered Master Ellenwood; "but it may perhaps be doubted how far this distinction is kept in mind—specially among the more ignorant."

"But the command says, 'Thou shalt not bow down to them,'" persisted Harry; "and every one does that. I don't understand it, for my part."

"There are more than you, in the same puzzle, my boy," said Master Ellenwood, smiling rather sadly.

"And you, Master Ellenwood, what think you of this new move of the King?" asked my Lady.

"I think, Madam, that the man who would keep out the sea, does not well to make a hole in the dyke—no, though the hole be no larger than his little finger," said Master Ellenwood, gravely.

I think Master Ellenwood much changed since I have been away. He seems graver than his wont, and his face hath oftentimes a deep shade of sadness. He is absent-minded also, even at our lessons, and will sometimes let Harry make the most dreadful mistakes in his quantities, without taking any notice of them.

But Harry's Latin will soon come to an end. It is quite settled now that he is to sail from Plymouth with Captain Will Hawkins, who is going to the Brazils, on an exploring and trading voyage. Harry is wild with delight. He has the true Corbet love of sea-wandering, and has already been two voyages, one to the Levant, and one to the North seas; so it is not mere ignorant longing for he knows not what. It seems hard to me, and scarcely right, that the only son of our house should be exposed to such perils as that of a voyage to an unknown and savage coast, where he may be taken and held in lifelong bondage by the barbarians, or still worse by the Spaniards, or devoured by wild beasts, or stricken by fever. But my father hath given his consent, so I suppose there is no help. My father kindly condescended to give me his reasons.

"The boy hath the salt drop in his blood, like all his race. You could no more keep him at home, than you could keep a duck from the water; and if you could he would be good for naught. Not but Harry is a dutiful son, and would give up his longing to please me, if I insisted; but he would be unhappy and restless. As for danger, I reek not so much of that, since danger lurks everywhere. The merchant who never laid hand to sword, may be slain by robbers in his own shop, and the lazy monk may die of a surfeit in the cloister. I know Will Hawkins well, for an honest, faithful and good-natured gentleman—albeit something of the roughest, as these sea dogs are apt to be. He hath been my friend of many years standing, and I doubt not will do well by Harry, and I shall feel far safer about the boy than if he were in the Court, like poor Dick."

All this is true without doubt, nevertheless, it will be hard to let Harry go. Prudence will have it that the scheme is of my Lady's concoction; whereas my Lady hath been against it from the first; though since my father decided, she has done her best to forward Harry's preparations. Harry, for his part, adores his stepmother with a kind of dumb worship, and hangs about her as his old deerhound Oscar does about them both. He hath formally presented Oscar to my Lady, and she hath promised to care for him. Only that I think her influence so good, I could almost find it in my heart to be jealous.