¹ This passage occurs in Tyndale's defence and not in his notes.
By such like instruction, by comparing one passage with another, and by help of the teaching of his uncle, Jack began at last to arrive at some clear notion of salvation by Jesus Christ, to cease to place any confidence in his own works or deservings, and to understand and feel somewhat of the blessedness of an accepted child of God.
"Oh, how I wish Anne could come to see this," he said one day, after a long conversation he had been holding with his uncle on the hillside. "She is killing herself, as my father says, with prayers and penances, that she may win forgiveness and heaven for herself and her friend. If she could only be brought to see this plain and easy way!"
"What was the story of her friend?" asked the shepherd. "Ay, I remember, there was some secret in the matter. I would, indeed, the poor child could be led to see that her Lord hath done all for her. Perhaps you may find some way of enlightening her when you return home."
"I should hardly know how to begin," said Jack, thoughtfully. "Anne has such a horror of heresy. She was distressed because I only said I should like to be a priest in order to read the Scripture; and she tried to make me promise that I would never look at any heretical books if they came in my way."
"I think Anne was convent bred, was she not?" asked the shepherd.
"Yes, at the gray nuns' convent, that my father spoke of, the one my Lord Harland is to buy. It was by no good will of my father, who never loved the religious houses; but my mother wished it, and he would not cross her. Anne would have taken the veil ere this, I doubt, but for the prioress herself. Anne's health failed, and the lady sent her home, saying she should have time to see more of the world before leaving it. But it is little she has seen of the world, poor child. She lives as closely as any cloistered nun and fares as hardly. It is a great trouble to my father, who would have none but cheerful faces about him. Anne thinks it is her duty to deny herself all pleasures, and so she will not taste any of the good things Cousin Cicely is so fond of making, nor sing to the lute as my mother used to do, though it is my father's greatest delight to hear her."
"I doubt there is some self-will at the bottom of her heart," said the shepherd, "else she would perceive that there is a truer and purer self-denial in giving up her own tastes and inclinations in indifferent things, and conforming herself to the will and wishes of those about her."
"I see," said Jack, thoughtfully. "Then it might be that eating a piece of Cousin Cicely's gingerbread when she did not really care for it, rather than mortify the poor woman by refusing her dainties, would be a more useful penance than going without anything."
"For Anne perhaps," replied old Thomas, smiling.