But Lady Paton and her sister were not so interested in public affairs. They had not met for some years, and now, as Maud pathetically said, if she dare not kiss her sister she could talk to her; and so the sisters drew aside, and Lady Paton told her all about her children, and how both the elder ones had been taught to read the New Testament, and commit portions of it to memory.
"I taught them when we were obliged to keep the books hidden away, for fear of the friars and monks, for the precious Word of God had done so much for Miles and me, that we were resolved our children should be taught its precious truths as soon as they could understand anything about it."
"But you had to take them to church; and people are saying now that all the old service is idolatry. How did you manage about the Mass?"
"Ah! that was a difficulty; not only for our children, but for our people too, until I thought it over, and prayed God to guide and teach us what to say, though I think Sister Margery helped me to the thought a great deal. Of course many of our poor people know bitterly the want of bread. If only they had bread to eat they used to think themselves rich, they have said to me; and so I told them that the piece of bread that the priest lifted up in the Mass, was to remind them that Christ was to be to their souls what bread was to their bodies. And I believe this was the first meaning that men attached to the elevation of the Host, and that they had no intention of worshipping it as they have come to do; but the first meaning being lost sight of in course of time, all the rest about transubstantiation has followed and corrupted it."
"Oh, that dreadful word," sighed Maud. "That is what the fight rages over; and men and women have been burned at Smithfield, after being terribly tortured, because they said the Mass was idolatry, and because they would not bow to the Host. Oh, Cicely, if your thought is right, why don't the reformers teach the people to think of it in your way, and stop all this terrible suffering?"
But Lady Paton could only shake her head doubtfully. "How do I know what would be right for wise and learned men to teach? You see, Miles had set himself to create a little Utopia by the help of God, and what he could learn from His Word. And what we set ourselves to teach our poor people was to do to one another as they would have their neighbours do to them if they changed places. Miles said when we had got them to learn and live this first rule, we might find time for the next, but our people are slow to learn it, and so we have had no time to think of the things that may come after. Margery and I have taught, or tried to teach them that Christ, as He is shown in the New Testament, is as real as the bread held out by the priest, and so we have made the Mass a help to them as far as we could. Of course we are always very busy, for we make our ploughs as well as use them, and build our looms to weave the wool in the winter time, so that there is little time for questioning this and that. Our dear Margery has most time for thought, and she is really our household priest, and God teaches her through His Word, and gives her many helpful thoughts, which she gives to Miles, and me, and the children; and they are always helpful, happy thoughts, fitted to help us in the place we are living, and not great, high thoughts that could only be useful in London, or here at the Court of Placentia, where grave, learned men meet to talk over affairs of State."
"Dear Margery! I wish we could all have a household priest like her. Now, it seems to me she has the true vocation for a religious life, and I used to think when I was staying with you that if Margery had been in your place she would not have left the convent, even for Miles."
But Cicely laughed aloud at her sister's suggestion. "Why, Margery would never hear of being a nun," she said; "she has told me that her mother asked her more than once if she would like to join the sisterhood at the convent near Woodstock. But Margery said she was always too fond of minding other people's business for them, ever to be content with a nun's life; and she says if she could have chosen, she could not have had a happier life than she has now, for with Miles, and me, and the children, and the village folk, who bring all their troubles to her, she always has her hands full, and plenty to think about and plan for, when she is obliged to lie still on her couch for days together. This active life is good for her too, Miles says, for she is stronger and better able to walk about with her stick than ever she was before. And Aunt Margery's room is the choicest, and sweetest, and best in the house, where Miles and I get rested if we are tired and cross. Oh, no, the world could never get on without our Margery—at least our busy little world could not," added Lady Paton.