“And the Bloody Statute,” he answered, reading her thought. “Then we should have a second Walter Mallet.”
“And Thekla to be Grace!” murmured Isoult, her voice faltering. “O Jack, that were dreadful! Could we do nought to let it?”
“Yes,” he said in a constrained tone. “We might do two things to let it. Either to hinder their marriage, or to let Robin from receiving orders.”
“But thinkest thou we ought so?”
“I think, sweet wife,” answered he, tenderly, “that we ought to follow God’s leading. He can let either; and if He see it best, whether for Robin or for Thekla, that will He. But for myself, I do confess I am afeard of handling His rod. I dare not walk unless I see Him going afore. And here, beloved, I see not myself that He goeth afore, except to bid us leave things take their course. Dost thou?”
“I see nothing,” she answered; “I feel blind and in a maze touching it all.”
“Then,” said he, “let us ‘tarry the Lord’s leisure.’”
It was finally settled between John and Isoult that the former should see Mr Rose after the evening service on the following Sunday, when he was to preach at Bow Church, and speak to him on the subject of Robin and Thekla. So after the service they all returned home but John; and though no one told Robin why he stayed behind, Isoult fancied from the lad’s face that he guessed the cause. It was a long time before John’s return. Isoult dismissed Esther to bed, determining to wait herself; and with some indistinct observation about “young folk that could turn night into day,” Dr Thorpe took up his candle and trudged up-stairs also. Robin sat on; and Isoult had not the heart to say anything to him; for she saw that his thoughts were at Bow Church, not occupied with the copy of Latimer’s sermon on the Plough, which lay open before him.
At last John came, with a slow, even step, from which his wife augured ill before he entered the room. He smiled when he saw Robin still there.
“Ill news, Father!” said Robin. “You need not to tell me.”