“Not nigh so much as you might think,” answered Rose, brightly. “At the first it caused me some grief; but truly, the more it burned the less it hurt, till at last it was scarce any hurt at all.”
“But thou had’st the pot in thine other hand, maid; wherefore not have hit him a good swing therewith?”
“Truly, Meg, I thank God that He held mine hand from any such deed. ‘The servant of the Lord must not strive.’ I should thus have dishonoured my Master.”
“Marry, but that may be well enough for angels and such like. We dwell in this nether world.”
“Rose hath the right,” said William Mount. “We may render unto no man railing for railing. ‘If we suffer as Christians, happy are we; for the Spirit of glory and of God resteth upon us.’ Let us not suffer as malefactors.”
“You say well, neighbour,” added John Thurston. “We be called to the defence of God’s truth, but in no wise to defend ourselves.”
“Nay, the Lord is the avenger of all that have none other,” said Alice. “But let me see thine hand, child, maybe I can do thee some ease.”
“Under your good leave, Mother, I would rather not unlap it,” replied Rose. “Truly, it scarce doth me any hurt now; and I bound it well with a wet rag, that I trow it were better to let it be. It shall do well enough, I cast no doubt.”
She did not want her mother to see how terribly it was burned. And in her heart was a further thought which she would not put into words—If they shortly burn my whole body, what need is there to trouble about this little hurt to my hand?