name by
the brilliant invention of knitting stockings was then a little girl,
just learning to use her needles. What Alice was knitting this evening
was a soft woollen cap, intended for the comfort of Mr Benden's head.

The inside of the head in question was by no means so comfortable as
Alice was preparing to make the outside. Mr Benden was pulled two
ways, and not knowing which to go, he kept trying each in turn and
retracing his steps. He wanted to make Alice behave herself; by which
he meant, conform to the established religion as Queen Mary had
Romanised it, and go silently to church without making insubordinate
objections to idolatry, or unpleasant remarks afterwards. This was only
to be attained, as it seemed to him, by sending her to prison. But,
also, he wanted to keep her out of prison, and to ensure the continuance
of those savoury suppers on which his comfort and contentment depended,
and the existence of which appeared to depend on her remaining at home.
How were the two to be harmoniously combined? Reflections of this kind
resulted in making Mr Benden a very uncomfortable man; and he was a man
with whom to be uncomfortable was to be unreasonable.

"Alice!" he said at last, after a period of silent thought Alice looked
up from her work.

"The morrow shall be Sunday."

Alice assented to that indisputable fact.

"You'll come to church with me?"

For one instant Alice was silent. Her husband thought she was wavering
in her decision, but on that point he was entirely mistaken. She was
doing what Nehemiah did when he "prayed to the God of heaven" between
the King's question and his answer. Well she knew that to reply in the
negative might lead to reproach, prison, torture, even death. Yet that
was the path of God's commandments, and no flowery By-path Meadow must
tempt her to stray from it. In her heart she said to Him who had
redeemed her--

"Saviour, where'er Thy steps I see,
Dauntless, untired, I follow Thee!"

and then she calmly answered aloud, "No, Edward, that I cannot do."

"What, hath your taste of the Bishop's prison not yet persuaded you?"
returned he angrily.

"Nay, nor never will."

"Then you may look to go thither again, my mistress."

"Very well, Edward." Her heart sank low, but she did not let him see
it.

"You'll either go to church, or here you bide by yourself."

"I thought to go and sit a while by Christie," she said.

"You'll not go out of this house. I'