The King's Daughters

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

  "Come and sit a bit with me, Will. I scarce ever see you now."

  Will Johnson, a year older and bigger, scrambled up on the garden seat,and Cissy put her arm round him.

  From having been very small of her age, Cissy was suddenly shooting upinto a tall, slim, lily-like girl, nearly as white as a lily, and asdelicate-looking. "How are you getting on with the ladies, Will?"

  "Oh, middling."

  "You know you must learn as much as you can, Will, of aught they teachyou that is good. We're being better learned than Father could havelearned us, in book-learning and such; and we must mind and pay heed,the rather because maybe we sha'n't have it long."

  "I wish you wouldn't talk so about--Father. You're for ever talkingabout him," said Will uneasily, trying to wriggle himself out of hissister's clasp.

  "Not talk about Father!" exclaimed Cissy indignantly. "Will, whateverdo you mean? I couldn't bear not to talk about Father! It would seemlike as we'd forgotten him. And you must never forget him--never!"

  "I don't like talking about dead folks. And--well it's no use bidingit. Look here. Cissy--I'm going to give up."

  "Give up what?" Cissy's voice was very low. There might be pain anddisappointment in it, but there was no weakness.

  "Oh, all this standing out against the nuns. You can go on, if you likebeing starved and beaten and made to kneel on the chapel floor, and soforth; but I've stood it as long as I can. And--wait a bit, Cis; let mehave my say out--I can't see what it signifies, not one bit. What canit matter whether I say my prayers looking at yon image or not? If Isaid them looking at the moon, or at you, you wouldn't say I was prayingto you or the moon. I'm not praying to _it_; only, if they think I am,I sha'n't get thrashed and sent to bed hungred. Don't you see? Thatcan't be idolatry."

  Cissy was silent till she had felt her way through the mist raised byWill's subterfuge into the clear daylight of truth.

  "Shall I tell you what it would be, Will?"

  "Well? Some of your queer notions, I reckon."

  "Idolatry, with lying and cheating on the top of it. Do you think theymake it better?"

  "Cis, don't say such ugly words!"

  "Isn't it best to call ugly things by their right names?"

  "Well, any way, it won't be my fault: it'll be theirs who made me doit."

  "Theirs and yours too, Will, if you let them make you."

  "I tell you, Cissy, I can't stand it!"

  "Father stood more than that," said Cissy in that low, firm voice.

  "Oh, don't be always talking about Father! He was a man and could bearthings. I've had enough of it. God Almighty won't be hard on me, if Ido give in."

  "Hard, Will! Do you call it hard when people are grieved to the heartbecause you do something which they'd lay down their lives you shouldn'tdo? The Lord did lay down His life for you: and yet you say that youcan't bear a little hunger and a few stripes for Him!"

  "Cis, you don't know what it is. You're a maid, and I dare say theydon't lay on so hard on you. It's more than a little, I can tell you."

  Cissy knew what it was far better than Will, for he was a strong boy, onwhom hardships fell lightly, while she had to bear the blows and thehunger with a delicate and enfeebled frame. But she only said,--

  "Will, don't you care for me?"

  "Of course I do, Cis."

  "I think the only thing in the world that could break my heart would beto see you or Nell `giving in', as you call it. I couldn't stand that,Will. I can stand anything else. I hoped you cared for God and Father:but if you won't heed them, I must see if you will listen to me. Itwould kill me, Will."

  "Oh, come, Cis, don't talk so."

  "Won't you go on trying a bit longer, Will? Any day the tide may turn.I don't know how, but God knows. He can bring us out of this prison allin a minute. You know He keeps count of the hairs on our heads. Now,Will, you know as well as I do what God said,--He did not say only,`Thou shalt not worship them,' but `Thou shalt not bow down to them.'Oh Will, Will! have you forgotten all the texts Father taught us?--areyou forgetting Father himself?"

  "Cis, I wish you wouldn't!"

  "I wish _you_ wouldn't, Will."

  "You don't think Father can hear, do you?" asked Will uncomfortablyglancing around.

  "I hope he can't, indeed, or he'll be sore grieved, even in Heaven, tothink what his little Will's coming to."

  "Oh, well--come, I'll try a bit longer, Cis, if you--But I say, I dohope it won't be long, or I _can't_ stand it."

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  That night, or rather in the early hours of the following morning, ahorseman came spurring up to the Head Gate of Colchester. He alightedfrom his panting horse, and threw the reins on its neck.

  "Gate, ho!"

  Nothing but silence came in answer.

  "Gate, ho!" cried the horseman in a louder voice.

  "Somebody there?" asked the gatekeeper in a very sleepy voice. "Tarry aminute, will you? I'll be with you anon."

  "Tarry!" repeated the horseman with a contemptuous laugh. "Thou'd notwant me to tarry if thou knewest what news I bring."

  "Good tidings, eh? let's have 'em!" said the gatekeeper in a briskervoice.

  "Take them. `God save the Queen!'"

  "Call that tidings? We've sung that this five year."

  "Nay you've never sung it yet--not as you will. How if it be `God saveQueen Elizabeth'?"

  The gate was dashed open in the unsleepiest way that ever gate wasmoved.

  "You never mean--is the Queen departed?"

  "Queen Mary is gone to her reward," replied the horseman gravely. "Godsave Queen Elizabeth!"

  "God be thanked, and praised!"

  "Ay, England is free now. A man may speak his mind, and not die for it.No more burnings, friend! no more prison for reading of God's Word! nomore hiding of men's heads in dens and caves of the earth! God save theQueen! long live the Queen! may the Queen live for ever!"

  It is not often that the old British Lion is so moved by anything as toroar and dance in his inexpressible delight. But now and then he doesit; and never did he dance and roar as he did on that eighteenth ofNovember, 1558. All over England, men went wild with joy. The terribleweight of the chains in which she had been held, was never truly feltuntil they were thus suddenly knocked from the shackled limbs. Old,calm, sober-minded people--nay, grave and stern, precise and rigid--every manner of man and woman--all fairly lost their heads, and werelike children in their frantic glee that day Men who were perfectstrangers were seen in the streets shaking hands with each other asthough they were the dearest friends. Women who ordinarily would not ofthought of speaking to one another were kissing each other and callingon each other to rejoice. Nobody calmed down until he was so worn-outthat wearied nature absolutely forced him to repose. It was seen thatday that however she had been oppressed, compelled to silence, ortortured into apparent submission, England was Protestant. The prophetshad prophesied falsely, and the priests borne rule, but the people hadnot loved to have it so, as they very plainly showed. Colchester haddeclared for Mary five years before, because she was the true heir whohad the right to reign, and rebellion was not right because her religionwas wrong: but now that God delivered them from her awful tyranny,Colchester was not behind the rest of England in giving thanks to Him.

  We are worse off now. The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priestsbear rule by their means. It has not reached to the point it did then;but how soon will it do so?--for, last and worst of all, the people loveto have it so. May God awake the people of England! For His mercies'sake, let us not have to say, England flung off the chains of bondageand the sin of idolatry under Queen Elizabeth; but she bound them tightagain, of her own will, under Queen Victoria!