What a poor, weak, mean thing human nature is! The men who had no pity for the white hair of Agnes Silverside, or the calm courage of John Johnson, or even the helpless innocence of little Cissy: such things as these did not touch them at all—these very men were anxious to save Elizabeth Foulkes, not because she was good, but because she was beautiful.
It is a sad, sad blunder, which people often make, to set beauty above goodness. Some very wicked things have been done in this world, simply by thinking too much of beauty. Admiration is a good thing in its proper place; but a great deal of mischief comes when it gets into the wrong one. Whenever you admire a bad man because he is clever, or a foolish woman because she is pretty, you are letting admiration get out of his place. If we had lived when the Lord Jesus was upon earth, we should not have found people admiring Him. He was not beautiful. “His face was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men.” And would it not have been dreadful if we had admired Pontius Pilate and Judas Iscariot, and had seen no beauty in Him who is “altogether lovely” to the hearts of those whom the Holy Ghost has taught to love Him? So take care what sort of beauty you admire, and make sure that goodness goes along with it. We may be quite certain that however much men thought of Elizabeth’s beautiful face, God thought very little of it. The beauty which He saw in her was her love to the Lord Jesus, and her firm stand against what would dishonour Him. This sort of beauty all of us can have. Oh, do ask God to make you beautiful in His eyes!
No sooner had the chief Commissioner spoken than a voice in the Court called out,—
“Pray you, Worshipful Sirs, save this young maid! I am her mother’s brother, Thomas Holt of Colchester, and I do you to wit she is of a right good inclination, and no wise perverse. I do entreat you, grant her yet another chance.”
Then a gentleman stepped forward from the crowd of listeners.
“Worshipful Sirs,” said he, “may I have leave to take charge of this young maiden, to the end that she may be reconciled to the Church, and obtain remission of her errors? Truly, as Master Commissioner saith, it were pity so fair a creature were made food for the fire.”
“Who are you?—and what surety give you?” asked Sir John.
Sir Thomas Tye rose from his seat on the Bench.
“Please it, your Worships, that is Master Ashby of this town, a good Catholic man, and well to be trusted. If your Worships be pleased to show mercy to the maid, as indeed I would humbly entreat you to do, there were no better man than he to serve you in this matter.”
The priest having spoken in favour of Mr Ashby the Commissioners required no further surety.