ce of bread is God
Himself. It is insulting the Lord God Almighty to say such a thing.
Look at the 115th Psalm, from the fifth verse to the eight, and you will
see how God describes an idol, which He forbids to be worshipped: and
then look at the 26th and 27th verses of the 24th chapter of Saint
Matthew, and you will see that the Lord Jesus distinctly says that you
are not to believe anybody who tells you that He is come before you see
Him. When He really does come, nobody will want any telling; we shall
all see Him for ourselves. So we find from His own words in every way
that the bread and wine in the Sacrament are just bread and wine, and
nothing more, which we eat and drink "in remembrance of Him," just as
you might keep and value your mother's photograph in remembrance of her.
But I am sure you never would be so silly as to think that the
photograph was her own real self!

This was the reason why Elizabeth Foulkes would not go to mass. Every
Sunday morning Mrs Clere ordered her to go, and Elizabeth quietly,
respectfully, but firmly, told her that she could not do so. Elizabeth
had God's Word to uphold her; God forbade her to worship idols. It was
not simply that she did not like it, nor that somebody else had told her
not to do it. Nothing can excuse us if we break the laws of our
country, unless the law of our country has broken God's law; and
Elizabeth would have done very wrong to disobey her mistress, except
when her mistress told her to disobey God. What God said must be her
rule; not what she thought.

Generally speaking, Mrs Clere called Elizabeth some ugly names, and
then let her do as she liked. Up to this time her master had not
interfered with her, but she was constantly expecting that he would.
She was not afraid of answering for herself; but she was terribly afraid
for her poor friends. To tell him that she was on her way to warn them
of danger, and beg them to escape, would be the very means of preventing
their escape, for what he was likely to do was to go at once and tell
the priests, in order to win their favour for himself.

"Hussy, what goest thou about?" came sternly from Nicholas Clere, as he
held her fast.

"Master, I cry you mercy. I was on my way home, and I was turned out of
it by one that prayed me to take a word of grave import to a friend."

Elizabeth thought she might safely say so much as that.

"I believe thee not," answered Nicholas. "All young maids be idle
gadabo