Part 10 (2/2)

She gave me while four:--and I'm feared o' vesper bell ringing afore I can get home. There'll be more bells nor one, if so. G.o.d be wi' ye, la.s.ses! Good even, Father.”

And the door was shut on the unhappy husband of the delightful Filomena.

Emma took leave soon after, and Bertha went with her, to see another friend before she returned to her employer's house. Avice and the priest were left alone. For a few minutes both were silent; but perhaps their thoughts were not very unlike.

”I wish, under your leave, Father,” said Avice at length, ”that somebody would say a word to Aunt Filomena. I am afraid both she and Uncle Dan are very ignorant. Truly, so am I: and it should be some one who knows better. I doubt if he quite means all he says; but he thinks too ill of women,--and indeed, with five such as he has at home, who can wonder at it? He has no peace from morning to night; and he is naturally a man who loves peace and quiet--as you are yourself, holy Father, unless I mistake.”

”Thou art not mistaken, my daughter,” said Father Thomas. Something inside him was giving him a sharp p.r.i.c.k or two. Did he love quiet too much, so as to interfere with his duties to his fellow-men? And then something else inside the priest's heart rose up, as it were, to press down the question, and bid the questioner be silent.

”I wonder,” said Avice, innocently, quite unaware of the course of her companion's thoughts, ”whether, if Aunt Filomena knew her duty better, she might not give poor Uncle Dan a little more rest. He is good, in his way, and as far as he knows. I wish I knew more! But then,” Avice concluded, with a little laugh, ”I am only a woman.”

”Yet thou art evidently one of the few whom he likes and respects,”

answered the priest. ”Be it thine, my daughter, to show him that women are not all of an evil sort. Do thy best, up to the light thou hast; and cry to G.o.d for more light, so that thou mayest know how to do better. 'Pour forth thy prayers to Him,' as saith the Collect for the First Sunday after the Epiphany, 'that thou mayest know what thy duty requires of thee, and be able to comply with what thou knowest.' It is a good prayer, and specially for them that are perplexed concerning their duty.” [See Note 2.]

”But when one does know one's duty,” asked Avice with simplicity, ”it seems so hard to make one's self do it.”

”Didst thou ever yet do that? Daughter, dost thou believe in the Holy Ghost?”

Avice's immediate answer was what would be the instinctive unthinking response of most professing Christians.

”Why, Father, of course I do!”

”Good. What dost thou believe?”

Avice was silent. ”Ah!” said the priest. ”It is easy to think we believe: but hard to put our faith into plain words. If the faith were clearer, maybe the words would follow.”

”It is so difficult to get things clear and plain!” sighed poor Avice.

”Have one thing clear, daughter--the way between G.o.d and thine own soul.

Let nothing come in to block up that--however fair, howsoever dear it be. And thou shalt have thy reward.”

”Father, is it like keeping other things clear? The way to have the floor clear and clean is to sweep it every morning.”

”Ay, my daughter, sweep it every morning with the besom of prayer, and every night bear over it the torch of self-examination. So shall the evil insects not make their nests there.”

”I don't quite know how to examine myself,” said Avice.

”And thou wilt err,” answered Father Thomas, ”if thou set about that work alone, with a torch lighted at the flame of thine own righteousness. Light thy torch at the fire of G.o.d's altar; examine thyself by the light of His holy law; and do it at His feet, so that whatever evil thing thou mayest find thou canst take at once to Him to be cleansed away. Content not thyself with brus.h.i.+ng away thoughts, but go to the root of that same sin in thine own heart. Say not, 'I should not have spoken proudly to my neighbour'--but, 'I should not be proud in my heart.' Deal rather with the root that is in thee than with the branches of acts and words. There are sins which only to think of is to do. Take to our Lord, then, thy sins to be cleansed away; but let thine own thoughts dwell not so much on thy sins, thy deeds done and words said, but rather on thy sinfulness, the inward fount of sin in thy nature.”

”That were ugly work!” said Avice.

”Ay. I reckon thou countest not the scouring of thy floor among thine enjoyments. But it is needful, my daughter: and is it no enjoyment to see it clean?”

”Ay, that it is,” admitted Avice.

”I remember, my child, many years ago--thou wert but a little maid--that holy Bishop Robert came to sup with thy grandmother Muriel. Tell me, wouldst thou have been satisfied--I say not as a little child, since children note not such things--but as a woman, wouldst thou have been satisfied to receive the holy Bishop with a dirty floor, and offer to him an uncleansed spoon to put to his lips?”

”Oh no, Father, surely not!”

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