“Dear hearts,” saith Father, “I cannot but think a man’s heart is gone something wrong when he begins to meddle with casuistry. The very minute that Adam fell from innocence, he took refuge in casuistry. There was not one word of untruth in what he said to the Lord: he was afraid, and he did hide himself. Yet there was deception, for it was not all the truth—no, nor the half. As methinks, ’tis alway safest to tell out the plain truth, and leave the rest to God.”
“Jack Lewthwaite said once,” quoth Edith, “that at the grammar school at Kendal, where he was, there was a lad that should speak out to the master that which served his turn, and whisper the rest into his cap; yet did he maintain stoutly that he told the whole truth. What should you call that, Father?”
“A shift got straight from the father of lies,” he made answer. “Trust me, that lad shall come to no good, without he repent and change his course.”
Then Aunt Joyce said somewhat that moved the discourse other whither: but I had heard enough to make me rare diseaseful. When I thought I had hit on so excellent a fashion of telling the truth, and yet hiding my secrets, to have Father say such things came straight from Satan! It liketh me not at all. I would Nell would let things a-be!
Selwick Hall, November ye xxiv.
My good Protection tells me ’tis country fashion to count such matter deceit, and should never obtain in the Court at all. And he asked me if Father were not given to be a little Puritan—he smiling the while as though to be a Puritan were somewhat not over well-liked of the great. Then I told him that I knew not well his meaning, for that word was strange unto me. So he said that word Puritan was of late come up, to denote certain precise folk that did desire for to be better than their neighbours, and most of them only to make a talk, and get themselves well accounted of by such common minds as should take them at their own appraisement.
“Not, of course,” saith he, “that such could ever be the case with a gentleman of Sir Audrey’s worshipfulness, and with such an angel in his house to guard him from all ill.”
I did not well like this, for I would alway have Father right well accounted of, and not thought to fall into mean country ways. But then ’gan he to talk of mine eyes, which he is ever a-praising, and after a while I forgat my disease.
Still, I cannot right away with what Father said. If only Father and Mother could know all about this matter, and really consent thereto, I would be a deal happier. But my Protection saith that were contrary unto all custom of love-matters, and they must well know the same: for in all matters where the elders do wit and order the same themselves, ’tis always stupid and humdrum for the young folks, and no romance left therein at all.
“It should suit well with Mistress Nell,” saith he, “from what I do hear touching her conditions (disposition): but never were meet for the noble and generous soul of my fairest Amiability, that is far above all such mean things.”