The time is not far-off when we too shall be asked to choose between these two alternatives. Not, perhaps, between earthly life and death (though it may come to that): but between faith and unfaithfulness, between Christ and idols, between the love that will give up all and the self-love that will endure nothing. Which shall it be with you? Will you add your voice to the side which tamely yields the priceless treasures purchased for us by these noble men and women at this awful cost? or will you meet the Romanising enemy with a firm front, and a shout of “No fellowship with idols!—no surrender of the liberty which our fathers bought with their heart’s blood!” God grant you grace to choose the last!
When Mrs Clere reached the Magpie, she went up to Amy’s room, and found her lying on the bed with her face turned to the wall.
“Amy! what ailed thee, my maid?—art better now?”
“Mother, we’re all wrong!”
“Dear heart, what does the child mean?” inquired the puzzled mother. “Has the sun turned thy wits out o’ door?”
“The sun did nought to me, mother. It was Bessie’s face that I could not bear. Bessie’s face, that I knew so well—the face that had lain beside me on this pillow over and over again—and that smile upon her lips, as if she were half in Heaven already—Mother it was dreadful! I felt as if the last day were come, and the angels were shutting me out.”
“Hush thee, child, hush thee! ’Tis not safe to speak such things. Heretics go to the ill place, as thou very well wist.”
“Names don’t matter, do they, Mother? It is truth that signifies. Whatever names they please to call Bessie Foulkes, she had Heaven and not Hell in her face. That smile of hers never came from Satan. I know what his smiles are like: I’ve seen them on other faces afore now. He never had nought to do with her.”
“Amy, if thy father hears thee say such words as those, he’ll be proper angry, be sure!”
Amy sat up on the bed.