"I would—I would I could think so," he said; "but to die without the sacraments—and I was the tempter to lead her from her vocation. But, take comfort, child, if thou canst. It may be thou art right, after all."
"I feel sure of it," said I; and then I reminded him how devout and humble dear mother was—how careful of all those under her government, and how exact in training them to ways of devotion and truth; and I repeated to him sundry verses of the Psalms, on which I had been thinking a great deal of late.
"Well, well, you seem to have thought to good purpose," said he, at last. "Master Ellenwood, at least, would hold with you. He is all for making of my chantry a school for the young maids of the village, where they may learn to spin and sew, and say their prayers, and even to read. He says it would be a better offering to your mother's memory than a useless chapel and a lazy fat priest, such as these chantry clerks often grow to be."
"I am sure mother would be pleased," said I. "You know she always did favor the notion of a school."
"There is something in that," answered my father, ruminating in silence a minute. "Well, child, I must needs go on my way. Hast no word for my Lord and poor Dick, who goes with him to France?"
I sent my humble duty to my Lord, and with Mother Superior's permission, a little book of prayers to Dick, who I know neglects his devotions sometimes. I think he will use the book for my sake. Dear father bestowed on me his blessing, and a beautiful gold and ebony rosary, which had once been mother's, and then rode away. I wondered when I should see him again. It is a very long and not very safe journey to London from these parts.
I showed Mother Superior my rosary, and the little lock of baby's hair. She looked long at the beads, and returned them to me with a sigh.
"I remember them well," said she. "They came from Rome, and have the blessing of our Holy Father the Pope. Did your mother use them?"
"Not often, as I think," I answered. "She liked better a string of beads of carved wood, which she said my father brought her from the East country before she was married."
"Olive wood, belike," said Mother, "though I fear 'twas your father's giving them which made them precious. Your mother's strong and warm natural affections were a snare to her, my child. See that they be not so to you, for you are as like her as one pea is to another."