"Oh, aunt, it was terrible! And she is not so old as I am, I should think?"
"No, you are sixteen, and Bessie is not yet fourteen. But she is brave and true, and whispered to her sisters not to cry out or make a noise, and God would surely send deliverance to them by the hand of some friend. We knew not to what straits the poor children were left, but as Quakers, who called themselves brethren with him who was suffering for the truth's sake, we were bound to seek the children when we knew they had been left friendless and alone. Thee will tell thy mother what I have told to thee, and then she will understand how I was moved by the inward voice to offer a home and a refuge to these little ones."
"Aunt, methinks the voice would have bidden me do likewise if I was grown up and could have helped them," whispered Audrey, kissing her tenderly, and feeling that she had found a friend in this aunt who could understand her better than her mother could.
[CHAPTER V.]
ONE SUNDAY MORNING.
THE exemplary punishment dealt out to the unfortunate martyr Westland seemed to satisfy the authorities for some time, or it might have been that their failure to silence Sir William Penn in spite of fines and imprisonment, made them pause to consider before taking up another crusade of persecution.
Sir William Penn was son of the Lord High Admiral of England, who had recently died, leaving his son a considerable fortune, as well as claims upon the government for money lent to them by the old admiral.
But while a student at Oxford, Master William Penn, his son, had embraced Quakerism, and been expelled for preaching and teaching it. His father was very angry, and threatened to disown him for his connection with such a disgraceful set of people, but afterwards sent him to travel on the Continent, in the hope that he would forget what the old admiral thought was the wildest vagary.