th--be old
women, it will be set up in the court of the Temple. Ay, much if it
creep not into the Holy of Holies ere those three young folks have a
silver hair. The Devil is coming, children: he's safe to be first; and
in his train are the priests and the Pope. They are all coming: and
you'll have to turn them out again, as your grandfathers did. And don't
you fancy that shall be an easy task. It'll be the hardest whereto you
ever set your shoulders. God grant you win through it! There are two
dangers afore you, and when I say that, I mean not the torture-chamber
and the stake. Nay, I am thinking of worser dangers than those--snares
wherein feet are more easily trapped, a deal. List to me, for ere many
years be over, you will find that I speak truth. The lesser danger is
if the Devil come to you in his black robes, and offer to buy you with
that which he guesseth to be your price--and that shall not be the same
for all: a golden necklace may tempt one, and a place at Court another,
and a Barbary mare a third. But worse, far worse, is the danger when
the Devil comes in his robes of light; when he gilds his _lie_ with a
cover of outside truth; when he quotes Scripture for his purpose,
twisting it so subtilely that if the Spirit of God give you not the
answer, you know not how to answer him. Remember, all you young ones,
and Aubrey in especial, that no man can touch pitch and not be denied.
`Evil communications corrupt good manners:' and they corrupt them worst
and quickest when you see not that they be evil. If you think the
scales be falling from your eyes, make very sure that they are not
growing on them. And you can do that only by keeping very close to
God's footstool and to God's Word. Be sure of this: whatsoever leads
you away from that Book leads you wrong. I care not what it be--King or
Pope, priest or layman, blind faith or blind reason,--he that neglects
and sets aside the Word of God, for whatever cause, and whatever thing
he would put in his place--children, his ways incline unto Hell, and his
paths unto the dead. Go not after him, nor follow him. Mark my words,
and see, twenty and yet more forty years hence, if they come not true."

Aubrey whispered to Lettice, "What made her pick out me in `especial,'
trow? I'm not about to handle no pitch."

But Hans said, with his gravest face, "I thank you, Madam," and seemed
to be thinking hard about something all the rest of the evening.

On the Sun