"Doubtless he chose wisely!" she added, with a scorn which I cannot describe. "'Twas an easier life than tilling barren land, and bearing with the many humors of a childish, testy old man."
"You should not speak so of your brother," said the Queen, somewhat severely.
"You are right, Madam;" answered Magdalen, softening. "Scorn becomes not any sinner, whose own transgressions have been many. Nevertheless, under your favor, I believe my brother did mistake his duty in this thing."
"Yet you yourself have chosen a single life, it seems!" said the Queen. "Why was that?"
"I did not choose it," she said quietly, but yet her face was moved. "'Twas so ordered for me, and I make the best of it. I doubt not many married women are happier than I; but yourself must see, Madam, that no single woman, so she be good and virtuous, can possibly be as miserable as is many a good and virtuous wife, through no fault of her own; aye—and while she hath nothing of which she may complain before the world."
"'Tis even so!" said her Grace; and again saw the cloud upon her brow. I wonder if she is unhappy with her husband? After a little silence, the Queen fell to talking of the child, and after some discourse, she offered to leave with the parish priest such a sum of money as should be a dower for the girl, whether she should marry or enter a convent. Magdalen colored and hesitated.
"I thank you much for your kindness," said she, at last. "I have never yet received an alms, but the child is an orphan, and hath no earthly protection but myself; and should I die before my brother, he, or the men with whom he has placed himself, would take that small portion of goods which belongs to me, and little Catherine would be left wholly destitute. I believe Sir John, the village priest, to be a good man, so far as his lights go, and anything you may be pleased to place in his hands will be safe. I therefore accept your offer and thank you with all my heart; and may the blessing of the God of the fatherless abide upon you."
"That seems like a good woman," remarked Master Griffith to Mistress Patience, after we had left the cottage.
"Yet I liked not her saying about the priest," returned Mrs. Patience, austerely. "What did she mean by her limitation—'A good man, so far as his lights go,' forsooth! What is she, to judge of his lights? Methinks the saying savored somewhat too much of Lollardie, or Lutheranism."
"Then, if I thought so, I would not say so," said Master Griffith, in a low tone. "You would not like to cast a suspicion on the poor creature, which might bring her to the stake at last."