The Captive Bride by Gilbert Morris

will come within a month, and each Sabbath he exhorts the congregation to prepare their souls for the terrible times he says will come then.
    And what will I do? Run home like a cur with his tail between his legs? Deny the faith and join the Church of England? It would be so easy!
    And what of Lydia? I have not let myself think of it, but here in this room on this night, I set it down so that it will give me strength and purpose to stand when the tribulation comes: By my soul, I love this woman. You are young—you don’t really know yet—you have no profession! They will say this, and more.
    And what is my answer? I love this woman. That is my answer, and I know that even if she does not love me, I will go to my grave with her image in my heart. Yea, though I never see her again in this world, she has spoiled for me the image of all other women—no, not the image —the reality!
    What will I do then? I will do this one thing. I will take my courage all rolled up like a ball, and I will go to her and I will say, Lydia Carbonne, I love you with all my heart. I want you to share my life, my bed, my heart for all time on this earth.
    She will probably say no. That is her decision. Mine is made—to offer her my name and my strong right arm—and my heart—so help me God!
    Slowly Matthew closed the journal, cleaned the tip of the quill, and placed it on the desktop. His face was slightly pale, and as he knelt beside his narrow bed, instead of the rather ritualistic prayer that usually closed his day, he lifted up his face and for a long time waited for some answer. Finally he got into bed and lay there staring at the low ceiling.
    Lydia thereafter said of Matthew’s proposal, “It was the most unusual proposal any man ever made or any girl ever received!”
    The scene was the small chapel in Elstow. The audience was the congregation of Separatists gathered for the customary Sabbath morning sermon. Since the church had no pastor, John Bunyan had been asked to bring the sermon, and he had just started his seventh major point when Matthew Winslow came in, his face pale as paper. Ordinarily he took a seat at the rear of the church, but on this occasion he swept the congregation with a swift glance, and finding Lydia sitting in the second row with her aunt, walked steadily across the pegged wooden floor and plunked himself down firmly beside her.
    Lydia was startled, for the Elstow congregation held to the old ways, men seated on one side, women on the other. Her large eyes flew open as Matthew sat down beside her, and she felt her aunt stirring angrily on her other side.
    Matthew leaned forward and said something in a faint whisper which she did not understand, primarily due to the fact that Brother Bunyan was preaching about hell, and it was the usual custom to raise the volume considerably when the subject was under consideration.
    He leaned forward until one of her black tresses touched his cheek as he whispered into her ear, but at the exact moment he repeated himself, Bunyan slapped the desk in front of him and gave a resounding roar.
    Lydia was confused, having no concept as to what urgency could warrant such behavior on the young man’s part. She turned from him, only to have her arm firmly grasped, pulling her back to face him again. This time he raised his voice so that she understood him very clearly!
    Indeed, every living soul in the congregation heard him, for just as he raised his voice, Brother Bunyan suddenly stopped speaking. And into that sudden and absolute silence that fell over the church, Matthew Winslow said in a clear, urgent voice: “I said, will you marry me, Lydia? ”
    The loud question drew a sudden gasp from Lydia’s aunt, and she jerked around, causing her large Bible to drop to the floor with a thud! A hum swept through the room, and John Bunyan, who had heard the guns of war with more aplomb, stood there behind the sacred desk staring at the