Take Courage by Phyllis Bentley

religion, in Laud’s.
    All this, read constantly in pamphlets and diurnals and public proclamations, and talked over almost every time two men met, roused in my father so much distress and just indignation that it wore sadly upon his health. He was often called upon to explain the rights and wrongs of these matters, the privileges of Parliament, the King’s prerogative, and the like, to fellow-clothiers and merchants in Bradford, seeing he had read much and was of a just understanding. He began his explanations quietly, but soon grew shrill and tense, making his points with his forefinger with excessive emphasis, and speaking so high and fast that it quite exhausted him. Then when he read some bad news of the King’s haughty behaviour, or some new arrogant rule of Bishop Laud’s about altars or surplices, he would fling down the paper and stamp headlong up and down the room, shaking his head and muttering. Sometimes he paused in his stumbling stride to look at me and cry out mournfully:
    â€œPenninah, Penninah, the hand of the Lord is heavy on us!”
    He grew so thin that the bones of his body were almost visible through his flesh, and his clothes hung loose on him; his face changed greatly, his eyes seeming unduly large and his cheeks somehow fallen; his hair, now very white and scanty, straggled round his face in an untidy and negligent manner, no matter how often I smoothed and combed it. I saw that his acquaintance, even Mr. Thorpe who was such a strong Parliament man, thought his grief excessive, and he saw it too and it distressed him further.
    â€œThey do not understand what will spring from all this, Penninah,” he groaned. “Arminianism is the root of popery, and unjust taxes the seed of tyranny. It’s time to look about us now if our religion and our liberties are not utterly to be lost.”
    Often at night I heard him pacing his chamber; often, too, I heard his voice raised in prayer to God. I tried to comfort him as well as I could, but it was not easy, for if I urged him too far he was apt to glower wildly and shout at me that I cared nothing for the word of God; and then after grieve at himself because he had spoken harshly to the child of his Faith, his dearest daughter. In the foolishness of my heart I was glad when the Parliament was dissolved, for I thought that now at least there would be no more debates and speeches to provoke him.
    But as soon as he lacked that excitement he fell into a melancholy. He had another trouble to vex him, my poor father, of which I had then no knowledge. The first hint of it I received was over David.
    David by this time was set to be a scholar, and he had the gentle lofty look and dreamy gait I have often noted in those that love learning. He was now reading Latin poetry, Vergil and Horace, and could himself make excellent Latin verses. In this he quite outstripped my poor capacities, for which, dear lad, he was truly sorry, spending many earnest hours explaining dactyls and spondees and the like to me, until at last I kissed his forehead and told him my greatest pride and pleasure was to see him excel me, when he regretfully desisted. A short while after the dissolution of the Parliament, though he was still but a child in years he began to speak with a great eagerness of Cambridge, where it seemed Mr. Wilcocke had been at the University; and then one day Mr. Wilcocke came to beg my father that David should be allowed to prepare himself to go thither, since he was the most promising pupil Bradford School had ever had. My father was delighted by this praise, but hesitated somewhat on the ground of expenses; Mr. Thorpe too, whom he consulted, seemed to doubt ofit. But I pleaded with my father for David’s wish, and John to whom I spoke of it took the pains to visit Mr. Wilcocke and came back with particulars of how it might most cheaply be done, and he urged these upon Mr. Thorpe, and finally they both consented. I was obliged to John,