Stephen would fain have turned off the question. But it was answered as calmly as before.
“Holy Church is built on Christ our Lord. She cannot therefore teach contrary to Him, though we may misunderstand either.”
Roscius was satisfied. He had not, however, the least idea that by that vague term “holy Church,” while he meant a handful of priests and bishops, Ermine meant the elect of God, for whom His words settle every question, and who are not apt to trouble themselves for the contradictions either of priests or critics. “For the world passeth away, and the lust thereof”—the pleasures, the opinions, the prejudices of the world—“but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.”
The times of Henry Second knew neither post-offices nor carriers. When a man wanted to send a parcel anywhere, he was obliged to carry it himself or send a servant to do so, if he could not find some acquaintance journeying in that direction who would save him the trouble.
A few weeks after Stephen had come to the conclusion that he could not take Ermine to Oxford, he was passing down Bread Street to his shop early one morning, when Odinel hailed him from the door.
“Hi, Stephen! Just turn in here a minute, will you?—you don’t happen to be going or sending up into the shires, do you, these next few days?”
“Which of the shires?” inquired Stephen, without committing himself.
“Well, it’s Abingdon I want to send to—but if I could get my goods carried as far as Wallingford, I dare say I could make shift to have them forwarded.”
“Would Oxford suit you equally well?”
“Ay, as well or better.”