She drew the book from her pocket—ladies wore much larger pockets in those days than they now do—kissed it, and handed it to her husband.
“Thou hast well done, Madge!” said Lord Marnell, more kindly than before, as he passed the book to the Archbishop. Arundel, with a muttered curse upon all evil teaching, took the book from Lord Marnell with his hand folded in the corner of his gown, as if he thought its very touch would communicate pollution, and flung it into the fire. The fire was a large one, and in a minute the volume was consumed. Margery watched the destruction of her treasure with swimming eyes.
“Burn, poor book!” she said, falteringly, “and as thy smoke goeth up to God, leave it tell Him that the reading and the loving of His Word is accounted a sin by those who ought to be His pastors.”
“Woman, wilt not hear the truth?” cried Arundel.
“Truly, father, I have heard it, and it shall rest with me unto my dying day. But I trow that if your teaching were truth, ye had never burned with fire the Word of Christ, who hath power, if ye repent not, to consume you also with the like!”
“Told I not thee that the evil book which I gave to the fire was not Christ His Word, but the work of the devil?”
“Yea, truly; and the like said the heathen Jews, ‘Wher we seyen not wel that thou art a Samaritan, and hast a deuel?’ But I find not that their saying the same made it ever the truer. What saith Christ in answer? ‘I haue not a deuel; but I honoure my Fadir, and ye han unhonourid me.’” (John viii. 48, 49.)
“My daughter,” said the Abbot, with even more than his usual gentleness, “I misdoubt greatly that you be obstinate in your error. And if this be so, we shall have necessity of deeds the which we should sore lament. You wit, doubtless, that in case you continue thus obstinate, you will be had up afore the King’s Grace’s Council?”
“I am ready,” answered Margery.
“You wit also,” pursued the Abbot, no less gently, “that you may be sentenced unto close prison for such time as pleaseth the King’s Grace?”