ent home, as she and I sat together,--it
was not yet time for Ephraim to come in from his work in the parish, for
he is one of the few parsons who do work, and do not pore over learned
books or go a-hunting, and leave their parishes to take care of
themselves--well, as my Aunt and I sat by the window, she said something
which rather astonished me.

"Cary, I don't know what you and Ephraim would say, but I am beginning
to think we made a mistake."

"Do you mean about the Chinese screens, Aunt?" said I. "The gold
lacquer would have gone very well with the damask, but--"

"Chinese screens!" saith my Aunt, with a hearty laugh. "Why, whatever
is the girl thinking about? No, child! I mean about the Prince."

"Aunt Kezia!" I cried. "You never mean to say we did wrong in fighting
for our King?"

"Wrong? No, child, for we meant to do right. I gather from Scripture
that the Lord takes a deal more account of what a man means than of what
he does. Thank God it is so! For if a man means to come to Christ, he
does come, no matter how: ay, and if a man means to reject Christ, he
does that too, however fair and orthodox he may look in the eyes of the
world. Therefore, as to those matters that are in doubt, and cannot be
plainly judged by Scripture, but Christian men may and do lawfully
differ about them, if a man honestly meant to do God's will, so far as
he knew it, I don't believe he will be judged as if he had not cared to
do it. But what I intend to say is this--that it is plain to me now
that the Lord hath repealed the decree whereby He gave England to the
House of Stuart. There is no right against Him, Cary. He doeth as He
will with all the kingdoms of the world. Maybe it's not so plain to
you--if so, don't you try to see through my eyes. Follow your own
conscience until the Lord teaches yourself. If our fathers had been
truer men, and had passed the Bill of Exclusion in 1680, the troubles of
1688 would never have come, nor those of 1745 neither. They ate sour
grapes, and set our teeth on edge--ay, and their own too, poor souls!
It was the Bishops and Lord Halifax that did it, and the Bishops paid
the wyte, as Sam says. It must have been a bitter pill to those seven
in the Tower, to think that all might have been prevented by lawful,
constitutional means, and that they--their Order, I mean--had just
pulled their troubles on their own heads."

"Aunt Kezia," I cried in distress, "you never mean to say that