“I don’t care for their lies,” Patrick said, when Mr. Yorke reproved him; “but I want to know what they mean to do. If a pack of thieves were planning to break into your house, sir, wouldn’t you stop to listen to their conversation?”
The Catholic children had also their cross to bear. The teachers of the public schools, anxious to have their part in the “great work,” were zealous in enforcing the Bible-reading, and careful to see that no Catholic child omitted the doxology which Martin Luther chose to add to the “Our Father” of the Son of God.
Suddenly an outcry was raised by the Know-Nothings. The pretext they had longed and worked for was given, and great was their joy. The incident was simple enough. The boy who lived with Father Rasle was found by his teacher to have a Douay Bible. He was ordered to take it away and buy a Protestant Bible. “I shall not buy you a Protestant Bible,” Father Rasle said. “Use your own, or go without.” The child was threatened with punishment if he did not bring one. The priest immediately removed him from school, fitted up the building formerly used as a chapel for a school-house, and employed a young Catholic lady, recently come to town, as teacher. The Catholic children gladly left the schools, where they had, perhaps, suffered more than their parents had elsewhere, and placed themselves under the care of Miss Churchill. How beautiful, how strange it was to kneel down and say an Our Father and a Hail Mary at the beginning of their studies! How
delightful to go out at recess and play without being assailed by blows or nicknames! How proud they were when Father Rasle came in to give them his weekly instruction in religion! It was quite different from their accustomed ideas of school-life.
Mrs. Yorke was much disturbed by this arrangement. “Edith will have to give up her new friend,” she said decidedly. “I honor Miss Churchill for acting up to her principles, even when it is sure to bring her into a disagreeably conspicuous position; but there is nothing that obliges us to share her danger. When a person comes out of the ranks for conscience’ sake, let her stand alone, and have the glory of it.”
Edith objected at first, but her aunt insisted, and the girl soon saw that, though it went against her feelings, it was right to obey.
“We are not Catholics, my dear,” Mrs. Yorke said; “but it is our duty and wish to protect you from insult. We have suffered in doing so. You know we have given up going to meeting, the sermons were so pointed, and given up the sewing-circle, because we could not go without hearing something offensive, and your cousins find it unpleasant to go into the street even. As to your uncle, his defence of the religious rights of your church exposes him to actual danger. Our life here is nearly intolerable, and this will make it worse if you and Miss Churchill continue to visit each other.”
Fortunately, Miss Churchill anticipated this, and herself put a temporary end to their acquaintance—“till better times,” she wrote.
“She has behaved well,” Mrs. Yorke said, after reading the note. “And now, Charles, I wish that you would show a little prudence, and
let events take their course without interfering. Why should you say anything? It does no good.”