Lady Rosamond's book

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

I was utterly dumbfounded, and could not speak a word.

"Shall I tell you the whole?" she asked, presently. "Or are you too much shocked to hear more? You will not cast me off, will you, Rosamond?"

"Never!" said I, finding my voice at last. "But, dearest Amice, consider. Think of your fair fame—of Mother Gertrude and dear Mother Superior!"

"I have thought of all," she answered; "yea, many times overt and though I grieve to grieve them, yet I must needs speak. I have denied Him before men too long already: I must needs confess Him before I die, come what may. Give me some cordial, Rosamond. I must keep myself up till to-morrow, at least."

I gave her the cordial, and after a little rest, she began once more:

"Rosamond, do you remember the day we were dusting the chairs in the Queen's room, and you showed me one, the velvet whereof was spotted with small spots, as of drops of water? Mother Gertrude sent you to the wardrobe just then."

"I remember it well," I answered; "and that looking from the window I saw you reading some ragged leaves which you put into your bosom. I meant to ask what they were, but in the multitude of business, I forgot."

"Exactly so!" said Amice. "I was dusting the chair, and on taking up the cushion, which I found to be moveable, there fell out these leaves. I took them up to read them, thinking they might throw some light on the poor lady's history, but I had read little when I knew what I had found—something I had long desired to see. It was a written copy of the Gospel of St. John, done into English. Doubtless the poor prisoner had managed to bring it with her, and had found a convenient hiding-place for her treasure in this chair, which she had watered with her tears."

"I had read but a few words when I was interrupted; but those words were engraven on my mind as with a pen of steel. They were these: 'God so loved the world that he gave his only son for the intent that none that believe in him should perish, but should have everlasting life. For God sent not his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.'"

"Rosamond, I was as a man walking through desolate moors and among quaking bogs and thorny thickets, to whom a flash of light from Heaven showed for one moment the right and safe road. It was but a glimpse. I had no more time to read then, nor for some hours after; but that night, in recreation, I did find time for a few more verses. By the first peep of light next morning I was up and at my window, and thenceforth the morning star seldom found me sleeping. I placed the book of the Gospel inside my prayer-book, for better concealment, but after I had once read it through, and for fear it might be taken from me, I learned it all off by heart."