The Maidens of Walsingham
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She grabbed the plates, went out into the yard, washed them thoroughly in a barrel of water and returned home. Then Catherine took Cassie's torn dress out of the clothes chest and began to mend it with short, inconspicuous stitches.
– Why is there such a hole here? – Catherine asked her sister.
– Where?" she said indifferently. – I don't know, Katie.
Cassie sat down on her mattress and began to play with a hideous straw doll, which she loved in spite of its ugliness. She had no other toys.
– Honey, try to be more careful, will you? – Kate told her affectionately. – You know you have to keep things safe, right? Will you try?
– Mm-hmm. Can I go for a walk?
– No. Dad's not back yet.
Cassie glanced sadly at Catherine, tossed the doll into a corner, and watched as her sister deftly stitched her tattered dress. Seeing the curiosity on her younger sister's face, Kate smiled affectionately and stroked her curly hair.
"Poor Cassie! She doesn't realise that Christine doesn't have an ounce of sisterly love for her! But it must be so: the Lord is purposely protecting her sick mind from hurt and regret," thought Catherine sadly.
***
Christine, feeling resentful at Catherine's reproach, hastened to get away from home; she sat down under a large, budding oak tree, wrapped herself in her threadbare woollen shawl, and tearfully reflected on her poverty. Walsingham, which two centuries ago had been a large, flourishing and wealthy village, but which had gradually turned into a dying tiny hamlet, bound this vain beauty. Christine felt trapped in the dark stone house of the Glowfords: the clay floor, the cold walls, the cracked frames of the only window – all this pressed on the girl, deprived of joy and peace. At the same time, her life was poisoned by her younger sister: Christine disliked Cassie because she required delicate care, like a rare flower, and was filled with envy that her father loved Cassie more than she did. And Cassie was so beautiful that Christine's heart oozed with the poisonous bile of envy of her sick sister's beauty. The girl was desperate, and her deepest dream was to escape from the dying Walsingham ruins. However, she lacked the courage to dare to take such a bold step.
"'What should I do? I'm withering away here like a plant deprived of water! What of value is there in my life? Beauty? Only I was noticed by the landlord in the church… He looked at me with such admiring eyes! He's so handsome! But how could he be interested in a poor girl? Only in fairy tales! – Christine thought bitterly, and the tears of despair and hopelessness ran down her cheeks again. – Will I ever get out of this dark corner? When will I finally live in my own beautiful home, eating sweets and wearing fancy dresses?"
When darkness fell, Christine returned to the hovel she hated, where a hot supper and her older sister's silent disapproval awaited her. Christine had no appetite, for once again the meal was a bland porridge, which she had long since had enough of. Christine took off her shoes and her casual work dress and left her in a rough undershirt. She lay down on her bunk, facing the wall, and deliberately hid her head under the blanket, ignoring her sisters and father.
– Are you not ill? – Pastor Christine asked puzzled, noticing her daughter's gloomy mood. – Vespers is coming soon, and you need your strength. Eat, my daughter.
– I'm not hungry," she replied briefly, not wanting to talk.
– Then you will not be able to eat the porridge until tomorrow morning. If you don't share the evening meal with us, you'll be hungry – Pastor was concerned about his middle daughter's behaviour: Catherine had informed him earlier that Christine had left home again.
– I don't want any porridge, Dad. I'm not feeling well," Christine lied indifferently. She did not want to go to vespers: her father's sermons on the nobility of poverty had satiated her oppressed soul. She was melancholy and hopeless and longed to be alone.
– No time! You can't miss vespers! – Kate persisted, displeased at her sister's obstinacy.
– I won't go," said Christine quietly but firmly.
– But did St Christ stop preaching when he was afflicted? – said the pastor in an instructive tone.
– Leave her alone, Dad. God sees her heart and knows what is going on in it," said Catherine to her father: she had guessed her sister's plan to avoid vespers, but she kept silent, thinking it would do Christine good to be alone and think over her "wicked" behaviour. – Just please, Chris, wash the plates. I don't have time.
Christine's response was an exasperated sigh.
A quarter of an hour later, the pastor, Catherine and Cassie put on their best dresses and hurried into the church.
Christine wiped her poor bed with tears for a long time, but when she had calmed down, she took the clay plates and, going out into the yard, began to scrub them with a pig bristle brush. Suddenly, once again, Christine felt a rush of regret for her fading life, but she could not contain her anger and grabbed one of the plates and threw it to the ground, breaking it into several large pieces. Christine returned to the house, put the clean plates on the shelf, lay down on her mattress again, and wept bitterly. When the Glowfords returned from vespers, the girl was already asleep, weary with worries and black thoughts, but Catherine woke her to listen to the passage of Scripture that Pastor Glowford read every evening.
– There's one plate missing," Catherine said, glancing at the shelf.
– It fell out of my hands and broke," Christine told her sullenly.
Kate sat down beside her on the muff, and Cassie, full of joy at her homecoming, sat down beside her, and the family began to listen to the lines of Scripture that Pastor Glowford read with feeling. The pastor's voice was hushed, then filled with power, then with gentleness, then with dire warnings of the futility of existence and the terrible consequences of sin. After reading another passage, the pastor put the book aside. The family held hands and prayed, but the hearts of two of the four were indifferent to prayer: Christine's heart was wounded by dark thoughts and feelings, and Cassie's heart was not at all attentive to prayer, and the girl was more occupied with thoughts of the morrow, for she and the local boys had conspired to rob the apple-tree of a grumpy old neighbour. As she prayed, Cassie watched with delight as a spider crawled up the wall and disappeared into one of the crevices.
– Tomorrow, after morning, I will go to see our new landlord," the parson said after the prayer was over.
– To the Count of Draymore? – Christine exclaimed, stunned by the news. – Why?
– To have a conversation with him about our church. I approached him after the service today, but he was in a hurry, but he invited me to an audience at his estate.
– But is it not in his power to come himself? – Christine hoped to see the lord again, and vaguely felt the need to make him admire her beauty even more.