“You know, then!” he said, his voice softer and less bitter.
“‘Bithenke ghe on him that suffride such aghenseiynge of synful men aghens himsilff, that ghe be not maad weri, failynge in ghoure soulis.’ Bethink ye: the which signifieth, meditate on Him, arm ye with His patience. Look on Him, and look to Him.”
Bertram stared in astonishment. The cautious scriptorius, who never broke bread with Wycliffe, and declined to decide upon his great or small position, was quoting his Bible word for word.
Hugh looked up in Wilfred’s face, with the expression of one who had at last found somebody to understand him.
“Father,” he said, “did you ever doubt of every thing?”
“Ay,” said Wilfred, quietly.
“Even of God’s love? yea, even of God?”
“Ay.”
Bertram was horrified to hear such words. And from Hugh, of all people! But Wilfred, to his surprise, took them as quietly as if Hugh had been repeating the Creed.
“And what was your remedy?”