made a promise to Thomas and a promise to you. 'elp me to keep it. Amen'
Thomas noticed that Elizabeth smiled at him when she walked back into the shoppe, but he didn't respond. He felt horrible inside for the way that he was treating her, but he couldn't change his mood and the thought that she may have been unfaithful persisted to haunt him.
The next day, Thomas decided that he needed to speak with someone, but who? Elizabeth's uncle was his best friend, but he couldn't speak with him on this subject. 'Maybe I shuld see the priest,' he thought. 'Nay, I do nay want 'im to think ill of Elizabeth.' Then he determined that he would seek the counsel of the priest in the next village, whom he didn't know.
Thomas told Elizabeth that he needed to purchase some additional wheat and hitched the ox to the wagon. She thought that this was odd, since they seemed to have plenty of wheat, but since this was the first he had spoken in days, she accepted it with a nod and quick smile.
Thomas found the priest in the next village working in his garden.
'Oy,' he greeted the priest and then realized that was probably too causal of a greeting for a priest. 'I am soory for me rudeness. Please forgive me.'
The old priest slowly stood, complaining all the while about his sore back and knees. He didn't seem to notice the causal greeting.
'Gud dee to you, me sone. Whot brings you to see me on this fine, warm dee?'
'Forgive me, boot I am troubled and need to speak with sumone,' Thomas said after removing his cap.
'Aye, you luk troubled. You are nay from this village. 'ave you no priest in your village?'
'Aye, there is soch a priest, boot I do nay wish to speak with 'im on the matter that troubles me.'
'Comb with me sone,' the priest said as he walked slowly toward the church.
The priest led Thomas to the old church. It was a small church with a short square steeple. The walls inside had been plastered and painted white.
After they sat down in the back of the church near the steeple end, the priest said, 'Whot troubles you, me sone?'
Thomas looked down at his feet and did not speak. This was the first time that he had sought the advice of a priest and he felt uncomfortable. He had been raised to believe that a man should solve his own problems. The old priest was well acquainted with this attitude and waited patiently. Then to put Thomas at ease, he said 'Sone, I do know that it is 'ard for a man to speak of his troubles. Boot, let me tell you privately, plen'hy of them do.'
Then the priest ventured, 'Is there trouble at 'ome?'
Thomas was taken aback that the priest seemed to know his thoughts.
'Aye,' was all that Thomas offered.
'ow long 'ave you been married then?' asked the priest.
'That is the problem,' replied Thomas.
'Whot is the problem?' asked the priest with a puzzled looked on his face.
'I 'ave nay been married long enuf,' replied Thomas, still looking at his feet.
'Well,' laughed the priest, 'time will certainly take care of that then.'
'Me wife is 'aving a baby soon.'
'That is wonderful. Praise be to God.'
Thomas looked up for the first time and now the priest could see that he had tears in his eyes.
'We 'ave nay been married that long. I do nay believe that the child is mine.'
'I see,' said the priest in a more serious tone, 'ow long did you know your wife before you married?'
'I did nay know 'er long, only a fortnight.'
'Do you luv 'er?'
'Aye, greatly.'
'Does she luv you as well?'
'Aye, she does,' replied Thomas. The priest could tell based on the tone that he used that he felt her love deeply.
'ave you asked 'er if the child is yours?'
Thomas was feeling very uncomfortable with the conversation now and so he stood and paced the floor.
'I culd nay do that,' he replied. 'it wuld 'urt 'er.'
'Do you suppose that you culd only luv the child if you knew that you were the father?'
Thomas didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure of what his answer would be. The priest continued, 'Do you 'ave any children of your own yet?'
'Nay.'
'Do you 'ave any nephews or nieces?'
'Aye,' replied Thomas with a smile.
'And do you luv them?'
'Aye, of course I luv them, they are me family.'
'Boot you are nay the father,' observed the priest. 'If their father were deed, culd