Lady Rosamond's book

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Master Ellenwood, you are the scholar," said my Lady, turning to him. "Will you resolve us our doubt? Why do we have images in the churches?"

"The doctors would say that it is to excite our devotion by the presence of visible representations—not for that the image should be worshipped," answered Master Ellenwood; "but it may perhaps be doubted how far this distinction is kept in mind—specially among the more ignorant."

"But the command says, 'Thou shalt not bow down to them,'" persisted Harry; "and every one does that. I don't understand it, for my part."

"There are more than you, in the same puzzle, my boy," said Master Ellenwood, smiling rather sadly.

"And you, Master Ellenwood, what think you of this new move of the King?" asked my Lady.

"I think, Madam, that the man who would keep out the sea, does not well to make a hole in the dyke—no, though the hole be no larger than his little finger," said Master Ellenwood, gravely.

I think Master Ellenwood much changed since I have been away. He seems graver than his wont, and his face hath oftentimes a deep shade of sadness. He is absent-minded also, even at our lessons, and will sometimes let Harry make the most dreadful mistakes in his quantities, without taking any notice of them.

But Harry's Latin will soon come to an end. It is quite settled now that he is to sail from Plymouth with Captain Will Hawkins, who is going to the Brazils, on an exploring and trading voyage. Harry is wild with delight. He has the true Corbet love of sea-wandering, and has already been two voyages, one to the Levant, and one to the North seas; so it is not mere ignorant longing for he knows not what. It seems hard to me, and scarcely right, that the only son of our house should be exposed to such perils as that of a voyage to an unknown and savage coast, where he may be taken and held in lifelong bondage by the barbarians, or still worse by the Spaniards, or devoured by wild beasts, or stricken by fever. But my father hath given his consent, so I suppose there is no help. My father kindly condescended to give me his reasons.

"The boy hath the salt drop in his blood, like all his race. You could no more keep him at home, than you could keep a duck from the water; and if you could he would be good for naught. Not but Harry is a dutiful son, and would give up his longing to please me, if I insisted; but he would be unhappy and restless. As for danger, I reek not so much of that, since danger lurks everywhere. The merchant who never laid hand to sword, may be slain by robbers in his own shop, and the lazy monk may die of a surfeit in the cloister. I know Will Hawkins well, for an honest, faithful and good-natured gentleman—albeit something of the roughest, as these sea dogs are apt to be. He hath been my friend of many years standing, and I doubt not will do well by Harry, and I shall feel far safer about the boy than if he were in the Court, like poor Dick."

All this is true without doubt, nevertheless, it will be hard to let Harry go. Prudence will have it that the scheme is of my Lady's concoction; whereas my Lady hath been against it from the first; though since my father decided, she has done her best to forward Harry's preparations. Harry, for his part, adores his stepmother with a kind of dumb worship, and hangs about her as his old deerhound Oscar does about them both. He hath formally presented Oscar to my Lady, and she hath promised to care for him. Only that I think her influence so good, I could almost find it in my heart to be jealous.