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Updated: June 19, 2025
There's somewhat inside me that won't do right; and there's somewhat else that isn't satisfied when I have done right; it wants something more, and I don't know what it is. Master Ewring, you do. Tell me!" "Mistress Amy, what think you religion to be?" "Nay, I always thought it were being good. If it's not that, I know not what it is." "But being good must spring out of something.
"Bartle, wilt take a message to the Thurstons for me?" "Depends," said Bartle with a knowing nod. "What's it about? If you want to tell 'em price of flour, I don't mind." "I only want you to say one word to either of them." "Come, that's jolly! What's the word?" "Remember!" Bartle scratched his head. "Remember what? There's the rub!" "Leave that to them," said Mr Ewring.
At the door of the dungeon stood the redoubtable Wastborowe, his keys hanging from his girdle, and looking, to put it mildly, not particularly amiable. "Want letting out again by and by?" he inquired with grim satire, as Mr Ewring put the coin in his hand. "If you please, Wastborowe. You've no writ to keep me, have you?" "Haven't worse luck! Only wish I had.
Mr Ewring had to pass four weary hours in the dungeon before it pleased Wastborowe to let him out. He spent it in conversing with the other prisoners, all of whom, save Agnes Bongeor, were arrested for some crime, and trying to do them good. At last the heavy door rolled back, and Wastborowe's voice was heard inquiring, in accents which did not sound particularly sober,
Mistress Wade has the children, and she'll see to them, or Alice Mount will. I must " "Thou'd best not put too much on Alice Mount, for Will Mount's as like as not to be in the next batch." "Lord, have mercy on us! I'll go warn them they are with Mistress Ewring at the mill; and then I'll go on to Mistress Silverside. Make haste, Robin, for mercy's sake!"
"Thou art friends with Alice Mount, of Bentley, and she knows Mistress Ewring, the miller's wife." "Ay; well, what so?" "Bid Alice Mount tell Master Ewring there's like to be a writ out against him for heresy and contumaciousness toward the Church. Never mind how I got to know; I know it, and that's enough. He, and Mistress Silverside, and Johnson, of Thorpe, be like enough to come into court.
"No, I don't," she said, cutting him short. "Lack-a-day! I never took no heed when I might have learned it: and now have I no chance to learn, and everything to hinder. I don't know a soul I could ask about it." "The priest," suggested Mr Ewring a little constrainedly. This language astonished him from Nicholas Clere's daughter. "I don't want the priest's way.
Mr Ewring stood a moment longer to watch Amy as she ran down the road, with a step tenfold more light and elastic than the weary, languid one with which she had come up. "God bless the maid!" he said half aloud, "and may He `stablish, strengthen, settle' her! `He hath mercy on whom He will have mercy. But we on whom He has had it aforetime, how unbelieving and hopeless we are apt to be!
Let us pray for him, Dorothy. I'm afeared it's a bad sign that he isn't with them this morrow." "You think he's given in, Master Ewring?" "I'm doubtful of it, Dorothy." They walked on for a few minutes without speaking. "I'll try to see Jack again, or pass in a word to him," said Mr Ewring reflectively. "Eh, Master Ewring don't you go into peril! The Lord's cause can't afford to lose you.
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