CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
NOBODY LEFT FOR CISSY.
"Please, Dorothy, what's become of Rose Allen? and Bessy Foulkes? andMistress Mount, and all of them?"
"All gone, my dear heart--all with thy father."
"Are they all gone?" said Cissy with another sob, "Isn't there oneleft?"
"Not one of them."
"Then if we came out, we shouldn't find nobody?"
"Prithee reckon not, Cicely," said the nun, "that thou art likely tocome out. There is no such likelihood at all whilst our good Queenreigneth; and if it please God, she shall have a son after her thatshall be true to the Catholic faith, as she is, and not suffer evilcourses and naughty heretics to be any more in the realm. Ye will abidehere till it be plainly seen whether God shall grant to thee and thysister the grace of a vocation; and if not, it shall be well seen tothat ye be in care of good Catholic folk, that shall look to it ye go inthe right way. So prithee, suffer not thy fancy to deceive thee withany thought of going forth of this house of religion. When matters besomewhat better established, and the lands whereof the Church hath beenrobbed are given back to her, and all the religious put back in theirhouses, or new ones built, then will England be an Isle of Saints as inolden time, and men may rejoice thereat."
Cissy listened to this long speech, which she only understood in part,but she gathered that the nuns meant to keep her a prisoner as long asthey could.
"But Sister Joan," said she, "you don't know, do you, what God is goingto do? Perhaps he will give us another good king or queen, like KingEdward. I ask Him to do, every day. But, please, what is a vocation?"
"Thou dost, thou wicked maid? I never heard thee."
"But I don't ask you, Sister Joan. I ask God. And I think He'll do it,too. What is a vocation, please?"
"What I'm afeared thou wilt never have, thou sinful heretic child--thecall to become a holy Sister."
"Who is to call me? I am a sister now; I'm Will's and Baby's sister.Nobody can't call me to be a sister to nobody else," said Cissy, gettingvery negative in her earnestness.
Sister Joan rose from her seat. "The time is up," said she. "Sayfarewell to thy friend."
"Farewell, Dorothy dear," said Cissy, clinging to the one person sheknew, who seemed to belong to her past, as she never would have thoughtof doing to Dorothy Denny in bygone days. "Please give Mistress Wade myduty, when she comes home, and say I'm trying to do as Father bade me,and I'll never, never believe nothing he told me not. You see theycouldn't do nothing to me save burn me, as they did Father, and then Ishould go to Father, and all would be right directly. It's much betterfor them all that they are safe there, and I'll try to be glad--thoughthere's nobody left for me. Father'll have company: I must try and thinkof that. I thought he'd find nobody he knew but Mother, but if they'veall gone too, there'll be plenty. And I suppose there'll be some holyangels to look after us, because God isn't gone away, you see: He'sthere and here too. He'll help me still to look after Will and Baby,now I haven't"--a sob interrupted the words--"haven't got Father.Good-bye, Dolly! Kiss me, please. Nobody never kisses me now."
"Thou poor little dear!" cried Dorothy, fairly melted, and sobbing overCissy as she gave her half-a-dozen kisses at least. "The Lord blessthee, and be good to thee! I'm sure He'll take proper vengeance onevery body as isn't. I wouldn't like to be them as ill-used thee.They'll have a proper bill to pay in the next world, if they don't getit in this. Poor little pretty dear!"
"You will drink a cup of ale and eat a manchet?" asked Sister Joan ofDorothy.
A manchet was a cake of the best bread.
"No, I thank you, Sister, I am not a-hungered," was the answer.
"But, Dolly, you did not come all the way from Colchester?" said Cissy.
"Ay, I did so, my dear, in the miller's cart, and I'm journeying back inthe same. I covenanted to meet him down at the end of yonder lane atthree o'clock, and methinks I had best be on my way."
"Ay, you have no time to lose," responded Sister Joan.
Dorothy found Mr Ewring waiting for her at the end of the lane.
"Have you had to eat, Dorothy?" was his first question when she hadclimbed up beside him.
"Never a bite or sup in _that_ house, Master, I thank you," wasDorothy's rejoinder. "If I'd been starving o' hunger, I wouldn't havetouched a thing."
"Have you seen the children?"
"I've seen Cissy. That was enough and to spare."
"What do they with her?"
"They are working hard with both hands to make an angel of her at thesoonest--that's what they are doing. It's not what they mean to do.They want to make her a devil, or one of the devil's children, whichcomes to the same thing: but the Lord 'll not suffer that, or I'm amistaken woman. They are trying to bend her, and they never will.She'll break first. So they'll break her, and then there'll be no morethey can do. That's about where it is, Master Ewring."
"Why, Dorothy, I never saw you thus stirred aforetime."
"Maybe not. It takes a bit to stir me, but I've got it this even, I cantell you."
"I could well-nigh mistake you for Mistress Wade," said Mr Ewring witha smile.
"Eh, poor Mistress! but if she could see that poor little dear, it wouldgrieve her to her heart. Master Ewring, how long will the Lord bearwith these sons of Satan!"
"Ah, Dorothy, that's more than you or I can tell. `Many shall bepurified, and made white, and tried': that is all we know."
"How much is many?" asked Dorothy almost bitterly.
"Not one too many," said the miller gravely: "and not one too few. Weare called to wait until our brethren be accomplished that shall suffer.It may be shorter than we think. But, Dorothy, who set you among theprophets? I rather thought you had not over much care for such things."
"Master Ewring, I've heard say that when a soldier's killed in battle,another steppeth up behind without delay to fill his place. There'ssome places wants filling at Colchester, where the firing's been fierceof late: and when most of the old warriors be killed, they'll be like tofill the ranks up with new recruits. And if they be a bit awkward, anddon't step just up to pace, maybe they'll learn by and by, and meantimethe others must have patience."
"The Lord perfect that which concerneth thee!" said the miller, withmuch feeling. "Dorothy, was your mistress not desirous to have broughtup these little ones herself?"
"She was so, Master Ewring, and I would with all my heart she could.Poor little dears!"
"I would have taken the lad, if it might have been compassed, when hewas a bit older, and have bred him up to my own trade. The maids shouldhave done better with good Mistress Wade."
"Eh, Master, little Cicely's like to dwell in other keeping than either,and that's with her good father and mother above."
"The Lord's will be done!" responded Mr Ewring. "If so be, she atleast will have little sorrow."
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