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Updated: June 27, 2025
Now he could look across at Molly: and she nodded back at him, her eyes brimful but behind her tears they gave him absolution and released him from the doubt. This was at the close of August, 1728, and the Rector's letter entreating his good offices for Johnny Whitelamb reached John Wesley on the eve of his taking Priest's Orders, for which he was then preparing at Oxford.
Yet, see, this earthly love has come to me Johnny Whitelamb as to a king. It has taken no account of my worth, my weakness: in its bounty I am swallowed up and do not weigh. To dream of it as holding tally with me is to belittle and drag it down in thought to something scarcely larger than myself. I share it with kings, as I share this star. Can I think God's love less magnificent?"
Twilight with invisible veils closed around Epworth, its parsonage, and the high-walled garden where Molly, staff in hand, limped to and fro beside Johnny Whitelamb promoted now to be the Reverend John Whitelamb, B.A. He had arrived that afternoon, having walked all the way from Oxford. "Whenever they visit London," he answered.
Wesley with her daughters and Johnny Whitelamb supped there as a rule when not entertaining visitors. The Rector took his meals alone, in the parlour. "Your father has locked her in. Until to-morrow he forbids her to have anything but bread and water," answered Mrs. Wesley. "And she is twenty-seven years old," added Molly.
"But she will visit us sometimes. Lincoln is no great distance." Molly shook her head disconsolately. "I do not think she will come. Father will refuse to see her. For my part, after the wickedness he has committed this day " "Hush, Miss Molly!" "Is it not wrong he is doing? Is it not a wicked wrong? Answer me, John Whitelamb, if we two are ever to speak of her again."
Aside the Devil turned For envy, yet with jealous leer malign Eyed them askance; and to himself thus plained: 'Sight hateful, sight tormenting! . . ." Molly interrupted with a cry; so fiercely Hetty had gripped her wrist of a sudden. Emily broke off: "What on earth's the matter, child?" "Is it an adder?" asked Patty, whose mind was ever practical. "Johnny Whitelamb warned us " "An adder?"
She smoothed the dew from her skirt and walked swiftly down the slope. At the foot of it Johnny Whitelamb had risen and was holding his drawing aslant, in some hope, perhaps, that the angle might correct the perspective of old Mettle's portrait. Certainly it was a villainous portrait, as he acknowledged to himself with a sigh.
But before we bid Johnny Whitelamb desist from drawing and build a fire, let us be six princesses here and choose the gifts our mother shall bring home from town." "You know well enough she has no money to buy gifts," objected Patty. "Be frugal, then, in wishing, dear Pat. For my part, I demand only a rich Indian uncle: but he must be of solid gold.
Wright lurched, after pulling out a red handkerchief and dusting his boots on the front doorstep. At his entrance Johnny Whitelamb rose, gathered up some papers and retired. The Rector looked up from his writing-table, at the same moment pushing back and shutting the drawer upon Hetty's manuscript, which he had again been studying. "Good morning, Mr. Wright.
"Son Whitelamb, my hand is weary, and there is much to write. Help me to my dearest wish on earth the only wish now left to me: help me that Jack may inherit Epworth cure when I am gone.
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