The Lord is always near thee

[Christine Daye]

"Oh... no...no... I am explaining terribly badly! I am sure that Maestra is safe... well.. actually... no... I am not sure... But I have not seen her, nor had word, though I think that she is still visiting her friends... her cousins... Last time she left me without a word she had gone on a trip to Swindon!"

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself after her incredulous outburst about Swindon.

"And no... I am not left all alone... I have been visiting distant family... with her permission... and there is a gentleman... who is courting me... She made arrangements for me to see him, suitably chaperoned, naturally...

"The letter... it said that she was looking for new rooms for us... and... and... she was cancelling my performances because I was not there... even though I was! And though I was going away for a day or so, it was to visit my family - a thing that she had given me her permission to do not a handful of days before!"

She raised her hankerchief to her face, hiding behind it as her shoulders shook in quiet sobs.

[Revd Tweedy]

"You needn't feel alone, Miss Daye." He took a long breath.

"Seems t'me like the two o' you are needin' to speak to each other. You say things are changed, an' it seems like it's got each o' you afeard o' the worst."

Tweedy's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "If she's permitting you to entertain a gentleman's suit - well, p'raps she wants to see you settled. We do want to see the ones we love settled. Naught to be afeard of there: an that happens, that don't mean it's the end o' what lies between you. She might no longer be your guardian, but that don't mean you can't have each other's love still, does it?"

Don't rush the lass.

Something the young woman had said had alarmed him. But there was plenty of time to ask his questions; Tweedy was, if nothing else, a patient man.

[Christine Daye]

"But...but...but... how are we to speak if she will not see me?!" Christine wailed. "I have been looking for her everywhere!!"

She sobbed into her handkerchief a bit more, twisting and turning it, wiping her eyes and her face. When she lowered it, he could see that there were spots of blood on the fabric, from where she'd bitten her lip in her agitation.

[Revd Tweedy]

"There's no mutual acquaintance who might be called upon? What about these cousins of hers?"

Tweedy watched her carefully. The girl's story was jumbled up; but she seemed afraid of the motives these new-found friends of her guardian.

"Maybe someone else?"

[Christine Daye]

Christine sniffled into her handkerchief a bit more.

"Oh.... I have left messages for her with mutual friends, and notes in our rooms when I am not there. As for her cousins... I have met some of them at gatherings... but I have never been invited to call on them at home. I... I fear that... he... they... are jealous of the love she has for me... for though I am her ward... I am not family. Do you see?"

She took another breath, trying to calm herself, with a bit of success.

"Oh... forgive me my outburst! I must be patient, and wait, and pray, and... and... when she returns... we shall speak... and try to resolve this horrible, horrible situation..."

[Revd Tweedy]

"There's naught to forgive," he rumbled, gently. "I understand. It c'n be hard not to be upset when you talk to her, is that not so? So getting through the words with another can help. Makes it easier, whether you share it with the Lord," he almost smiled, a little, "or with one a' his servants."

"But I want you to tell me something else, Miss Daye."

[Christine Daye]

"Yes, Reverend? What is that?"

She fussed with her handkerchief, dabbing at her bitten lip, then looked at the fabric in dismay. Half to herself she said quietly:

"....oh... all I seem to do recently is cry... the laundresses are quite sick of my handkerchiefs, I am sure..."

[Revd Tweedy]

The reverend turned in his seat so that he was facing the altar again.

"Twice you spoke of damnation," he said, quietly. "An you'd like to pray with me awhile, the Lord will hear your confession." He paused a moment. "If you're more accustomed, ye may speak it to me. But it's eno' that He hear you repent."

[Christine Daye]

She looked at him for a moment, serious, then slid off the seat to kneel. Folding her hands in front of herself, she bowed her head and began to recite softly:

"Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatæ Mariæ semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Ioanni Baptistæ, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et vobis, fratres: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."

Her right fist beat softly against her chest three times.

"Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Ioannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum."

She sighed out a long breath, repeated in a whisper:

"...mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa..."

[Revd Tweedy]

They called it inspiration, and that's what it was: it was just like breathing in. So he breathed in, and when he breathed out, the words came:

Our Father who art in Heav'n,
we come to thee in sorrow for our sins.
That we've turned from You,
and heard not Your voice,
Father, forgive us: save us an' help us.

For letting ourse'n be drawn into anger,
and for heeding the temptations a' the world,
Father, forgive us.

Restore us for Jesus' sake,
and bring us to heavenly joy.
In Jesus Christ,

Tweedy opened his eyes, one dark, one scarred and blind, and muttered, "amen."