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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15992-8.txt b/15992-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e27dc5d --- /dev/null +++ b/15992-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16166 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Come Rack! Come Rope!, by Robert Hugh Benson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Come Rack! Come Rope! + +Author: Robert Hugh Benson + +Release Date: June 5, 2005 [EBook #15992] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME RACK! COME ROPE! *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Horton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +Come Rack! Come Rope! + +BY + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON + +_Author of "By What Authority?" "The King's Achievement," +"Lord of the World," etc._ + + +New York +P.J. Kenedy & Sons + + + + +PREFACE + + +Very nearly the whole of this book is sober historical fact; and by far +the greater number of the personages named in it once lived and acted in +the manner in which I have presented them. My hero and my heroine are +fictitious; so also are the parents of my heroine, the father of my +hero, one lawyer, one woman, two servants, a farmer and his wife, the +landlord of an inn, and a few other entirely negligible characters. But +the family of the FitzHerberts passed precisely through the fortunes +which I have described; they had their confessors and their one traitor +(as I have said). Mr. Anthony Babington plotted, and fell, in the manner +that is related; Mary languished in Chartley under Sir Amyas Paulet; was +assisted by Mr. Bourgoign; was betrayed by her secretary and Mr. +Gifford, and died at Fotheringay; Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam and Mr. +Simpson received their vocations, passed through their adventures; were +captured at Padley, and died in Derby. Father Campion (from whose speech +after torture the title of the book is taken) suffered on the rack and +was executed at Tyburn. Mr. Topcliffe tormented the Catholics that fell +into his hands; plotted with Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert, and bargained for +Padley (which he subsequently lost again) on the terms here drawn out. +My Lord Shrewsbury rode about Derbyshire, directed the search for +recusants and presided at their deaths; priests of all kinds came and +went in disguise; Mr. Owen went about constructing hiding-holes; Mr. +Bassett lived defiantly at Langleys, and dabbled a little (I am afraid) +in occultism; Mr. Fenton was often to be found in Hathersage--all these +things took place as nearly as I have had the power of relating them. +Two localities only, I think, are disguised under their names--Booth's +Edge and Matstead. Padley, or rather the chapel in which the last mass +was said under the circumstances described in this book, remains, to +this day, close to Grindleford Station. A Catholic pilgrimage is made +there every year; and I have myself once had the honour of preaching on +such an occasion, leaning against the wall of the old hall that is +immediately beneath the chapel where Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam said +their last masses, and were captured. If the book is too sensational, it +is no more sensational than life itself was to Derbyshire folk between +1579 and 1588. + +It remains only, first, to express my extreme indebtedness to Dom Bede +Camm's erudite book--"Forgotten Shrines"--from which I have taken +immense quantities of information, and to a pile of some twenty to +thirty other books that are before me as I write these words; and, +secondly, to ask forgiveness from the distinguished family that takes +its name from the FitzHerberts and is descended from them directly; and +to assure its members that old Sir Thomas, Mr. John, Mr. Anthony, and +all the rest, down to the present day, outweigh a thousand times over +(to the minds of all decent people) the stigma of Mr. Thomas' name. Even +the apostles numbered one Judas! + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON. + +_Feast of the Blessed Thomas More, 1912. +Hare Street House, Buntingford._ + + + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +There should be no sight more happy than a young man riding to meet his +love. His eyes should shine, his lips should sing; he should slap his +mare upon her shoulder and call her his darling. The puddles upon his +way should be turned to pure gold, and the stream that runs beside him +should chatter her name. + +Yet, as Robin rode to Marjorie none of these things were done. It was a +still day of frost; the sky was arched above him, across the high hills, +like that terrible crystal which is the vault above which sits God--hard +blue from horizon to horizon; the fringe of feathery birches stood like +filigree-work above him on his left; on his right ran the Derwent, +sucking softly among his sedges; on this side and that lay the flat +bottom through which he went--meadowland broken by rushes; his mare +Cecily stepped along, now cracking the thin ice of the little pools with +her dainty feet, now going gently over peaty ground, blowing thin clouds +from her red nostrils, yet unencouraged by word or caress from her +rider; who sat, heavy and all but slouching, staring with his blue eyes +under puckered eyelids, as if he went to an appointment which he would +not keep. + +Yet he was a very pleasant lad to look upon, smooth-faced and gallant, +mounted and dressed in a manner that should give any lad joy. He wore +great gauntlets on his hands; he was in his habit of green; he had his +steel-buckled leather belt upon him beneath his cloak and a pair of +daggers in it, with his long-sword looped up; he had his felt hat on +his head, buckled again, and decked with half a pheasant's tail; he had +his long boots of undressed leather, that rose above his knees; and on +his left wrist sat his grim falcon Agnes, hooded and belled, not because +he rode after game, but from mere custom, and to give her the air. + +He was meeting his first man's trouble. + +Last year he had said good-bye to Derby Grammar School--of old my lord +Bishop Durdant's foundation--situated in St. Peter's churchyard. Here he +had done the right and usual things; he had learned his grammar; he had +fought; he had been chastised; he had robed the effigy of his pious +founder in a patched doublet with a saucepan on his head (but that had +been done before he had learned veneration)--and so had gone home again +to Matstead, proficient in Latin, English, history, writing, good +manners and chess, to live with his father, to hunt, to hear mass when a +priest was within reasonable distance, to indite painful letters now and +then on matters of the estate, and to learn how to bear himself +generally as should one of Master's rank--the son of a gentleman who +bore arms, and his father's father before him. He dined at twelve, he +supped at six, he said his prayers, and blessed himself when no +strangers were by. He was something of a herbalist, as a sheer hobby of +his own; he went to feed his falcons in the morning, he rode with them +after dinner (from last August he had found himself riding north more +often than south, since Marjorie lived in that quarter); and now all had +been crowned last Christmas Eve, when in the enclosed garden at her +house he had kissed her two hands suddenly, and made her a little speech +he had learned by heart; after which he kissed her on the lips as a man +should, in the honest noon sunlight. + +All this was as it should be. There were no doubts or disasters +anywhere. Marjorie was an only daughter as he an only son. Her father, +it is true, was but a Derby lawyer, but he and his wife had a good +little estate above the Hathersage valley, and a stone house in it. As +for religion, that was all well too. Master Manners was as good a +Catholic as Master Audrey himself; and the families met at mass perhaps +as much as four or five times in the year, either at Padley, where Sir +Thomas' chapel still had priests coming and going; sometimes at Dethick +in the Babingtons' barn; sometimes as far north as Harewood. + +And now a man's trouble was come upon the boy. The cause of it was as +follows. + +Robin Audrey was no more religious than a boy of seventeen should be. +Yet he had had as few doubts about the matter as if he had been a monk. +His mother had taught him well, up to the time of her death ten years +ago; and he had learned from her, as well as from his father when that +professor spoke of it at all, that there were two kinds of religion in +the world, the true and the false--that is to say, the Catholic religion +and the other one. Certainly there were shades of differences in the +other one; the Turk did not believe precisely as the ancient Roman, nor +yet as the modern Protestant--yet these distinctions were subtle and +negligible; they were all swallowed up in an unity of falsehood. Next he +had learned that the Catholic religion was at present blown upon by many +persons in high position; that pains and penalties lay upon all who +adhered to it. Sir Thomas FitzHerbert, for instance, lay now in the +Fleet in London on that very account. His own father, too, three or four +times in the year, was under necessity of paying over heavy sums for the +privilege of not attending Protestant worship; and, indeed, had been +forced last year to sell a piece of land over on Lees Moor for this very +purpose. Priests came and went at their peril.... He himself had fought +two or three battles over the affair in St. Peter's churchyard, until he +had learned to hold his tongue. But all this was just part of the game. +It seemed to him as inevitable and eternal as the changes of the +weather. Matstead Church, he knew, had once been Catholic; but how long +ago he did not care to inquire. He only knew that for awhile there had +been some doubt on the matter; and that before Mr. Barton's time, who +was now minister there, there had been a proper priest in the place, who +had read English prayers there and a sort of a mass, which he had +attended as a little boy. Then this had ceased; the priest had gone and +Mr. Barton come, and since that time he had never been to church there, +but had heard the real mass wherever he could with a certain secrecy. +And there might be further perils in future, as there might be +thunderstorms or floods. There was still the memory of the descent of +the Commissioners a year or two after his birth; he had been brought up +on the stories of riding and counter-riding, and the hiding away of +altar-plate and beads and vestments. But all this was in his bones and +blood; it was as natural that professors of the false religion should +seek to injure and distress professors of the true, as that the foxes +should attack the poultry-yard. One took one's precautions, one hoped +for the best; and one was quite sure that one day the happy ancient +times his mother had told him of would come back, and Christ's cause be +vindicated. + +And now the foundations of the earth were moved and heaven reeled above +him; for his father, after a month or two of brooding, had announced, on +St. Stephen's Day, that he could tolerate it no longer; that God's +demands were unreasonable; that, after all, the Protestant religion was +the religion of her Grace, that men must learn to move with the times, +and that he had paid his last fine. At Easter, he observed, he would +take the bread and wine in Matstead Church, and Robin would take them +too. + + +II + +The sun stood half-way towards his setting as Robin rode up from the +valley, past Padley, over the steep ascent that led towards Booth's +Edge. The boy was brighter a little as he came up; he had counted above +eighty snipe within the last mile and a half, and he was coming near to +Marjorie. About him, rising higher as he rose, stood the great +low-backed hills. Cecily stepped out more sharply, snuffing delicately, +for she knew her way well enough by now, and looked for a feed; and the +boy's perplexities stood off from him a little. Matters must surely be +better so soon as Marjorie's clear eyes looked upon them. + +Then the roofs of Padley disappeared behind him, and he saw the smoke +going up from the little timbered Hall, standing back against its bare +wind-blown trees. + +A great clatter and din of barking broke out as the mare's hoofs sounded +on the half-paved space before the great door; and then, in the pause, a +gaggling of geese, solemn and earnest, from out of sight. Jacob led the +outcry, a great mastiff, chained by the entrance, of the breed of which +three are set to meet a bear and four a lion. Then two harriers whipped +round the corner, and a terrier's head showed itself over the wall of +the herb-garden on the left, as a man, bareheaded, in his shirt and +breeches, ran out suddenly with a thonged whip, in time to meet a pair +of spaniels in full career. Robin sat his horse silently till peace was +restored, his right leg flung across the pommel, untwisting Agnes' leash +from his fist. Then he asked for Mistress Marjorie, and dropped to the +ground, leaving his mare and falcon in the man's hands, with an air. + +He flicked his fingers to growling Jacob as he went past to the side +entrance on the east, stepped in through the little door that was beside +the great one, and passed on as he had been bidden into the little +court, turned to the left, went up an outside staircase, and so down a +little passage to the ladies' parlour, where he knocked upon the door. +The voice he knew called to him from within; and he went in, smiling to +himself. Then he took the girl who awaited him there in both his arms, +and kissed her twice--first her hands and then her lips, for respect +should come first and ardour second. + +"My love," said Robin, and threw off his hat with the pheasant's tail, +for coolness' sake. + + * * * * * + +It was a sweet room this which he already knew by heart; for it was here +that he had sat with Marjorie and her mother, silent and confused, +evening after evening, last autumn; it was here, too, that she had led +him last Christmas Eve, scarcely ten days ago, after he had kissed her +in the enclosed garden. But the low frosty sunlight lay in it now, upon +the blue painted wainscot that rose half up the walls, the tall presses +where the linen lay, the pieces of stuff, embroidered with pale lutes +and wreaths that Mistress Manners had bought in Derby, hanging now over +the plaster spaces. There was a chimney, too, newly built, that was +thought a great luxury; and in it burned an armful of logs, for the girl +was setting out new linen for the household, and the scents of lavender +and burning wood disputed the air between them. + +"I thought it would be you," she said, "when I heard the dogs." + +She piled the last rolls of linen in an ordered heap, and came to sit +beside him. Robin took one hand in his and sat silent. + +She was of an age with him, perhaps a month the younger; and, as it +ought to be, was his very contrary in all respects. Where he was fair, +she was pale and dark; his eyes were blue, hers black; he was lusty and +showed promise of broadness, she was slender. + +"And what news do you bring with you now?" she said presently. + +He evaded this. + +"Mistress Manners?" he asked. + +"Mother has a megrim," she said; "she is in her chamber." And she smiled +at him again. For these two, as is the custom of young persons who love +one another, had said not a word on either side--neither he to his +father nor she to her parents. They believed, as young persons do, that +parents who bring children into the world, hold it as a chief danger +that these children should follow their example, and themselves be +married. Besides, there is something delicious in secrecy. + +"Then I will kiss you again," he said, "while there is opportunity." + + * * * * * + +Making love is a very good way to pass the time, above all when that +same time presses and other disconcerting things should be spoken of +instead; and this device Robin now learned. He spoke of a hundred things +that were of no importance: of the dress that she wore--russet, as it +should be, for country girls, with the loose sleeves folded back above +her elbows that she might handle the linen; her apron of coarse linen, +her steel-buckled shoes. He told her that he loved her better in that +than in her costume of state--the ruff, the fardingale, the brocaded +petticoat, and all the rest--in which he had seen her once last summer +at Babington House. He talked then, when she would hear no more of that, +of Tuesday seven-night, when they would meet for hawking in the lower +chase of the Padley estates; and proceeded then to speak of Agnes, whom +he had left on the fist of the man who had taken his mare, of her +increasing infirmities and her crimes of crabbing; and all the while he +held her left hand in both of his, and fitted her fingers between his, +and kissed them again when he had no more to say on any one point; and +wondered why he could not speak of the matter on which he had come, and +how he should tell her. And then at last she drew it from him. + +"And now, my Robin," she said, "tell me what you have in your mind. You +have talked of this and that and Agnes and Jock, and Padley chase, and +you have not once looked me in the eyes since you first came in." + +Now it was not shame that had held him from telling her, but rather a +kind of bewilderment. The affair might hold shame, indeed, or anger, or +sorrow, or complacence, but he did not know; and he wished, as young men +of decent birth should wish, to present the proper emotion on its right +occasion. He had pondered on the matter continually since his father had +spoken to him on Saint Stephen's night; and at one time it seemed that +his father was acting the part of a traitor and at another of a +philosopher. If it were indeed true, after all, that all men were +turning Protestant, and that there was not so much difference between +the two religions, then it would be the act of a wise man to turn +Protestant too, if only for a while. And on the other hand his pride of +birth and his education by his mother and his practice ever since drew +him hard the other way. He was in a strait between the two. He did not +know what to think, and he feared what Marjorie might think. + +It was this, then, that had held him silent. He feared what Marjorie +might think, for that was the very thing that he thought that he thought +too, and he foresaw a hundred inconveniences and troubles if it were so. + +"How did you know I had anything in my mind?" he asked. "Is it not +enough reason for my coming that you should be here?" + +She laughed softly, with a pleasant scornfulness. + +"I read you like a printed book," she said. "What else are women's wits +given them for?" + +He fell to stroking her hand again at that, but she drew it away. + +"Not until you have told me," she said. + +So then he told her. + +It was a long tale, for it began as far ago as last August, when his +father had come back from giving evidence before the justices at Derby +on a matter of witchcraft, and had been questioned again about his +religion. It was then that Robin had seen moodiness succeed to anger, +and long silence to moodiness. He told the tale with a true lover's art, +for he watched her face and trained his tone and his manner as he saw +her thoughts come and go in her eyes and lips, like gusts of wind across +standing corn; and at last he told her outright what his father had said +to him on St. Stephen's night, and how he himself had kept silence. + +Marjorie's face was as white as a moth's wing when he was finishing, and +her eyes like sunset pools; but she flamed up bright and rosy as he +finished. + +"You kept silence!" she cried. + +"I did not wish to anger him, my dear; he is my father," he said gently. + +The colour died out of her face again and she nodded once or twice, and +a great pensiveness came down on her. He took her hand again softly, and +she did not resist. + +"The only doubt," she said presently, as if she talked to herself, "is +whether you had best be gone at Easter, or stay and face it out." + +"Yes," said Robin, with his dismay come fully to the birth. + +Then she turned on him, full of a sudden tenderness and compassion. + +"Oh! my Robin," she cried, "and I have not said a word about you and +your own misery. I was thinking but of Christ's honour. You must forgive +me.... What must it be for you!... That it should be your father! You +are sure that he means it?" + +"My father does not speak until he means it. He is always like that. He +asks counsel from no one. He thinks and he thinks, and then he speaks; +and it is finished." + +She fell then to thinking again, her sweet lips compressed together, and +her eyes frightened and wondering, searching round the hanging above the +chimney-breast. (It presented Icarus in the chariot of the sun; and it +was said in Derby that it had come from my lord Abbot's lodging at +Bolton.) + +Meantime Robin thought too. He was as wax in the hands of this girl, and +knew it, and loved that it should be so. Yet he could not help his +dismay while he waited for her seal to come down on him and stamp him to +her model. For he foresaw more clearly than ever now the hundred +inconveniences that must follow, now that it was evident that to +Marjorie's mind (and therefore to God Almighty's) there must be no +tampering with the old religion. He had known that it must be so; yet he +had thought, on the way here, of a dozen families he knew who, in his +own memory, had changed from allegiance to the Pope of Rome to that of +her Grace, without seeming one penny the worse. There were the Martins, +down there in Derby; the Squire and his lady of Ashenden Hall; the +Conways of Matlock; and the rest--these had all changed; and though he +did not respect them for it, yet the truth was that they were not yet +stricken by thunderbolts or eaten by the plague. He had wondered whether +there were not a way to do as they had done, yet without the disgrace of +it.... However, this was plainly not to be so with him. He must put up +with the inconveniences as well as he could, and he just waited to hear +from Marjorie how this must be done. + +She turned to him again at last. Twice her lips opened to speak, and +twice she closed them again. Robin continued to stroke her hand and wait +for judgment. The third time she spoke. + +"I think you must go away," she said, "for Easter. Tell your father that +you cannot change your religion simply because he tells you so. I do not +see what else is to be done. He will think, perhaps, that if you have a +little time to think you will come over to him. Well, that is not so, +but it may make it easier for him to believe it for a while.... You must +go somewhere where there is a priest.... Where can you go?" + +Robin considered. + +"I could go to Dethick," he said. + +"That is not far enough away, I think." + +"I could come here," he suggested artfully. + +A smile lit in her eyes, shone in her mouth, and passed again into +seriousness. + +"That is scarcely a mile further," she said. "We must think.... Will he +be very angry, Robin?" + +Robin smiled grimly. + +"I have never withstood him in a great affair," he said. "He is angry +enough over little things." + +"Poor Robin!" + +"Oh! he is not unjust to me. He is a good father to me." + +"That makes it all the sadder," she said. + +"And there is no other way?" he asked presently. + +She glanced at him. + +"Unless you would withstand him to the face. Would you do that, Robin?" + +"I will do anything you tell me," he said simply. + +"You darling!... Well, Robin, listen to me. It is very plain that sooner +or later you will have to withstand him. You cannot go away every time +there is communion at Matstead, or, indeed, every Sunday. Your father +would have to pay the fines for you, I have no doubt, unless you went +away altogether. But I think you had better go away for this time. He +will almost expect it, I think. At first he will think that you will +yield to him; and then, little by little (unless God's grace brings +himself back to the Faith), he will learn to understand that you will +not. But it will be easier for him that way; and he will have time to +think what to do with you, too.... Robin, what would you do if you went +away?" + +Robin considered again. + +"I can read and write," he said. "I am a Latinist: I can train falcons +and hounds and break horses. I do not know if there is anything else +that I can do." + +"You darling!" she said again. + + * * * * * + +These two, as will have been seen, were as simple as children, and as +serious. Children are not gay and light-hearted, except now and then +(just as men and women are not serious except now and then). They are +grave and considering: all that they lack is experience. These two, +then, were real children; they were grave and serious because a great +thing had disclosed itself to them in which two or three large +principles were present, and no more. There was that love of one +another, whose consummation seemed imperilled, for how could these two +ever wed if Robin were to quarrel with his father? There was the +Religion which was in their bones and blood--the Religion for which +already they had suffered and their fathers before them. There was the +honour and loyalty which this new and more personal suffering demanded +now louder than ever; and in Marjorie at least, as will be seen more +plainly later, there was a strong love of Jesus Christ and His Mother, +whom she knew, from her hidden crucifix and her beads, and her Jesus +Psalter--which she used every day--as well as in her own soul--to be +wandering together once more among the hills of Derbyshire, sheltering, +at peril of Their lives, in stables and barns and little secret +chambers, because there was no room for Them in Their own places. It was +this last consideration, as Robin had begun to guess, that stood +strongest in the girl; it was this, too, as again he had begun to guess, +that made her all that she was to him, that gave her that strange +serious air of innocency and sweetness, and drew from him a love that +was nine-tenths reverence and adoration. (He always kissed her hands +first, it will be remembered, before her lips.) + +So then they sat and considered and talked. They did not speak much of +her Grace, nor of her Grace's religion, nor of her counsellors and +affairs of state: these things were but toys and vanities compared with +matters of love and faith; neither did they speak much of the +Commissioners that had been to Derbyshire once and would come again, or +of the alarms and the dangers and the priest hunters, since those things +did not at present touch them very closely. It was rather of Robin's +father, and whether and when the maid should tell her parents, and how +this new trouble would conflict with their love. They spoke, that is to +say, of their own business and of God's; and of nothing else. The frosty +sunshine crept down the painted wainscot and lay at last at their feet, +reddening to rosiness.... + + +III + +Robin rode away at last with a very clear idea of what he was to do in +the immediate present, and with no idea at all of what was to be done +later. Marjorie had given him three things--advice; a pair of beads that +had been the property of Mr. Cuthbert Maine, seminary priest, recently +executed in Cornwall for his religion; and a kiss--the first deliberate, +free-will kiss she had ever given him. The first he was to keep, the +second he was to return, the third he was to remember; and these three +things, or, rather, his consideration of them, worked upon him as he +went. Her advice, besides that which has been described, was, +principally, to say his Jesus Psalter more punctually, to hear mass +whenever that were possible, to trust in God, and to be patient and +submissive with his father in all things that did not touch divine love +and faith. The pair of beads that were once Mr. Maine's, he was to keep +upon him always, day and night, and to use them for his devotions. The +kiss--well, he was to remember this, and to return it to her upon their +next meeting. + +A great star came out as he drew near home. His path took him not +through the village, but behind it, near enough for him to hear the +barkings of the dogs and to smell upon the frosty air the scent of the +wood fires. The house was a great one for these parts. There was a small +gate-house before it, built by his father for dignity, with a lodge on +either side and an arch in the middle, and beyond this lay the short +road, straight and broad, that went up to the court of the house. This +court was, on three sides of it, buildings; the hall and the buttery and +the living-rooms in the midst, with the stables and falconry on the +left, and the servants' lodgings on the right; the fourth side, that +which lay opposite to the little gate-house, was a wall, with a great +double gate in it, hung on stone posts that had, each of them, a great +stone dog that held a blank shield. All this later part, the wall with +the gate, the stables and the servants' lodgings, as well as the +gatehouse without, had been built by the lad's father twenty years ago, +to bring home his wife to; for, until that time, the house had been but +a little place, though built of stone, and solid and good enough. The +house stood half-way up the rise of the hill, above the village, with +woods about it and behind it; and it was above these woods behind that +the great star came out like a diamond in enamel-work; and Robin looked +at it, and fell to thinking of Marjorie again, putting all other +thoughts away. Then, as he rode through into the court on to the cobbled +stones, a man ran out from the stable to take his mare from him. + +"Master Babington is here," he said. "He came half an hour ago." + +"He is in the hall?" + +"Yes, sir; they are at supper." + + * * * * * + +The hall at Matstead was such as that of most esquires of means. Its +daïs was to the south end, and the buttery entrance and the screens to +the north, through which came the servers with the meat. In the midst of +the floor stood the reredos with the fire against it, and a round vent +overhead in the roof through which went the smoke and came the rain. The +tables stood down the hall, one on either side, with the master's table +at the daïs end set cross-ways. It was not a great hall, though that was +its name; it ran perhaps forty feet by twenty. It was lighted, not only +by the fire that burned there through the winter day and night, but by +eight torches in cressets that hung against the walls and sadly smoked +them; and the master's table was lighted by six candles, of latten on +common days and of silver upon festivals. + +There were but two at the master's table this evening, Mr. Audrey +himself, a smallish, high-shouldered man, ruddy-faced, with bright blue +eyes like his son's, and no hair upon his face (for this was the way of +old men then, in the country, at least); and Mr. Anthony Babington, a +young man scarcely a year older than Robin himself, of a brown +complexion and a high look in his face, but a little pale, too, with +study, for he was learned beyond his years and read all the books that +he could lay hand to. It was said even that his own verses, and a +prose-lament he had written upon the Death of a Hound, were read with +pleasure in London by the lords and gentlemen. It was as long ago as +'71, that his verses had first become known, when he was still serving +in the school of good manners as page in my Lord Shrewsbury's household. +They were considered remarkable for so young a boy. So it was to this +company that Robin came, walking up between the tables after he had +washed his hands at the lavatory that stood by the screens. + +"You are late, lad," said his father. + +"I was over to Padley, sir.... Good-day, Anthony." + +Then silence fell again, for it was the custom in good houses to keep +silence, or very nearly, at dinner and supper. At times music would +play, if there was music to be had; or a scholar would read from a book +for awhile at the beginning, from the holy gospels in devout households, +or from some other grave book. But if there were neither music nor +reading, all would hold their tongues. + +Robin was hungry from his riding and the keen air; and he ate well. +First he stayed his appetite a little with a hunch of cheat-bread, and a +glass of pomage, while the servant was bringing him his entry of eggs +cooked with parsley. Then he ate this; and next came half a wild-duck +cooked with sage and sweet potatoes; and last of all a florentine which +he ate with a cup of Canarian. He ate heartily and quickly, while the +two waited for him and nibbled at marchpane. Then, when the doors were +flung open and the troop of servants came in to their supper, Mr. Audrey +blessed himself, and for them, too; and they went out by a door behind +into the wainscoted parlour, where the new stove from London stood, and +where the conserves and muscadel awaited them. For this, or like it, had +been the procedure in Matstead hall ever since Robin could remember, +when first he had come from the women to eat his food with the men. + +"And how were all at Booth's Edge?" asked Mr. Audrey, when all had +pulled off their boots in country fashion, and were sitting each with +his glass beside him. (Through the door behind came the clamour of the +farm-men and the keepers of the chase and the servants, over their +food.) + +"I saw Marjorie only, sir," said the boy. "Mr. Manners was in Derby, and +Mrs. Manners had a megrim." + +"Mrs. Manners is ageing swifter than her husband," observed Anthony. + +There seemed a constraint upon the company this evening. Robin spoke of +his ride, of things which he had seen upon it, of a wood that should be +thinned next year; and Anthony made a quip or two such as he was +accustomed to make; but the master sat silent for the most part, +speaking to the lads once or twice for civility's sake, but no more. And +presently silences began to fall, that were very unusual things in Mr. +Anthony's company, for he had a quick and a gay wit, and talked enough +for five. Robin knew very well what was the matter; it was what lay upon +his own heart as heavy as lead; but he was sorry that the signs of it +should be so evident, and wondered what he should say to his friend +Anthony when the time came for telling; since Anthony was as ardent for +the old Faith as any in the land. It was a bitter time, this, for the +old families that served God as their fathers had, and desired to serve +their prince too; for, now and again, the rumour would go abroad that +another house had fallen, and another name gone from the old roll. And +what would Anthony Babington say, thought the lad, when he heard that +Mr. Audrey, who had been so hot and persevered so long, must be added to +these? + +And then, on a sudden, Anthony himself opened on a matter that was at +least cognate. + +"I was hearing to-day from Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert that his uncle would +be let out again of the Fleet soon to collect his fines." + +He spoke bitterly; and, indeed, there was reason; for not only were the +recusants (as the Catholics were named) put in prison for their faith, +but fined for it as well, and let out of prison to raise money for this, +by selling their farms or estates. + +"He will go to Norbury?" asked Robin. + +"He will come to Padley, too, it is thought. Her Grace must have her +money for her ships and her men, and for her pursuivants to catch us all +with; and it is we that must pay. Shall you sell again this year, sir?" + +Mr. Audrey shook his head, pursing up his lips and staring upon the +fire. + +"I can sell no more," he said. + +Then an agony seized upon Robin lest his father should say all that was +in his mind. He knew it must be said; yet he feared its saying, and with +a quick wit he spoke of that which he knew would divert his friend. + +"And the Queen of the Scots," he said. "Have you heard more of her?" + +Now Anthony Babington was one of those spirits that live largely within +themselves, and therefore see that which is without through a haze or +mist of their own moods. He read much in the poets; you would say that +Vergil and Ovid, as well as the poets of his own day, were his friends; +he lived within, surrounded by his own images, and therefore he loved +and hated with ten times the ardour of a common man. He was furious for +the Old Faith, furious against the new; he dreamed of wars and gallantry +and splendour; you could see it even in his dress, in his furred +doublet, the embroideries at his throat, his silver-hilted rapier, as +well as in his port and countenance: and the burning heart of all his +images, the mirror on earth of Mary in heaven, the emblem of his piety, +the mistress of his dreams--she who embodied for him what the courtiers +in London protested that Elizabeth embodied for them--the pearl of great +price, the one among ten thousand--this, for him, was Mary Stuart, Queen +of Scotland, now prisoner in her cousin's hands, going to and fro from +house to house, with a guard about her, yet with all the seeming of +liberty and none of its reality.... + +The rough bitterness died out of the boy's face, and a look came upon it +as of one who sees a vision. + +"Queen Mary?" he said, as if he pronounced the name of the Mother of +God. "Yes; I have heard of her.... She is in Norfolk, I think." + +Then he let flow out of him the stream that always ran in his heart like +sorrowful music ever since the day when first, as a page, in my Lord +Shrewsbury's house in Sheffield, he had set eyes on that queen of +sorrows. Then, again, upon the occasion of his journey to Paris, he had +met with Mr. Morgan, her servant, and the Bishop of Glasgow, her +friend, whose talk had excited and inspired him. He had learned from +them something more of her glories and beauties, and remembering what he +had seen of her, adored her the more. He leaned back now, shading his +eyes from the candles upon the table, and began to sing his love and his +queen. He told of new insults that had been put upon her, new +deprivations of what was left to her of liberty; he did not speak now of +Elizabeth by name, since a fountain, even of talk, should not give out +at once sweet water and bitter; but he spoke of the day when Mary should +come herself to the throne of England, and take that which was already +hers; when the night should roll away, and the morning-star arise; and +the Faith should come again like the flowing tide, and all things be +again as they had been from the beginning. It was rank treason that he +talked, such as would have brought him to Tyburn if it had been spoken +in London in indiscreet company; it was that treason which her Grace +herself had made possible by her faithlessness to God and man; such +treason as God Himself must have mercy upon, since He reads all hearts +and their intentions. The others kept silence. + +At the end he stood up. Then he stooped for his boots. + +"I must be riding, sir," he said. + +Mr. Audrey raised his hand to the latten bell that stood beside him on +the table. + +"I will take Anthony to his horse," said Robin suddenly, for a thought +had come to him. + +"Then good-night, sir," said Anthony, as he drew on his second boot and +stood up. + + * * * * * + +The sky was all ablaze with stars now as they came out into the court. +On their right shone the high windows of the little hall where peace now +reigned, except for the clatter of the boys who took away the dishes; +and the night was very still about them in the grip of the frost, for +the village went early to bed, and even the dogs were asleep. + +Robin said nothing as they went over the paving, for his determination +was not yet ripe, and Anthony was still aglow with his own talk. Then, +as the servant who waited for his master, with the horses, showed +himself in the stable-arch with a lantern, Robin's mind was made up. + +"I have something to tell you," he said softly. "Tell your man to wait." + +"Eh?" + +"Tell your man to wait with the horses." + +His heart beat hot and thick in his throat as he led the way through the +screens and out beyond the hall and down the steps again into the +pleasaunce. Anthony took him by the sleeve once or twice, but he said +nothing, and went on across the grass, and out through the open iron +gate that gave upon the woods. He dared not say what he had to say +within the precincts of the house, for fear he should be overheard and +the shame known before its time. Then, when they had gone a little way +into the wood, into the dark out of the starlight, Robin turned; and, as +he turned, saw the windows of the hall go black as the boys extinguished +the torches. + +"Well?" whispered Anthony sharply (for a fool could see that the news +was to be weighty, and Anthony was no fool). + +It was wonderful how Robin's thoughts had fixed themselves since his +talk with Mistress Marjorie. He had gone to Padley, doubting of what he +should say, doubting what she would tell him, asking himself even +whether compliance might not be the just as well as the prudent way. Yet +now black shame had come on him--the black shame that any who was a +Catholic should turn from his faith; blacker, that he should so turn +without even a touch of the rack or the threat of it; blackest of all, +that it should be his own father who should do this. It was partly food +and wine that had strengthened him, partly Anthony's talk just now; but +the frame and substance of it all was Marjorie and her manner of +speaking, and her faith in him and in God. + +He stood still, silent, breathing so heavily that Anthony heard him. + +"Tell me, Rob; tell me quickly." + +Robin drew a long breath. + +"You saw that my father was silent?" he said. + +"Yes." + +"Stay.... Will you swear to me by the mass that you will tell no one +what you will hear from me till you hear it from others?" + +"I will swear it," whispered Anthony in the darkness. + +Again Robin sighed in a long, shuddering breath. Anthony could hear him +tremble with cold and pain. + +"Well," he said, "my father will leave the Church next Easter. He is +tired of paying fines, he says. And he has bidden me to come with him to +Matstead Church." + +There was dead silence. + +"I went to tell Marjorie to-day," whispered Robin. "She has promised to +be my wife some day; so I told her, but no one else. She has bidden me +to leave Matstead for Easter, and pray to God to show me what to do +afterwards. Can you help me, Anthony?" + +He was seized suddenly by the arms. + +"Robin.... No ... no! It is not possible!" + +"It is certain. I have never known my father to turn from his word." + + * * * * * + +From far away in the wild woods came a cry as the two stood there. It +might be a wolf or fox, if any were there, or some strange night-bird, +or a woman in pain. It rose, it seemed, to a scream, melancholy and +dreadful, and then died again. The two heard it, but said nothing, one +to the other. No doubt it was some beast in a snare or a-hunting, but it +chimed in with the desolation of their hearts so as to seem but a part +of it. So the two stood in silence. The house was quiet now, and most of +those within it upon their beds. Only, as the two knew, there still sat +in silence within the little wainscoted parlour, with his head on his +hand and a glass of muscadel beside him--he of whom they thought--the +father of one and the friend and host of the other.... It was not until +this instant in the dark and to the quiet, with the other lad's hands +still gripped on to his arms, that this boy understood the utter shame +and the black misery of that which he had said, and the other heard. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +There were excuses in plenty for Robin to ride abroad, to the north +towards Hathersage or to the south towards Dethick, as the whim took +him; for he was learning to manage the estate that should be his one +day. At one time it was to quiet a yeoman whose domain had been ridden +over and his sown fields destroyed; at another, to dispute with a miller +who claimed for injury through floods for which he held his lord +responsible; at a third, to see to the woodland or the fences broken by +the deer. He came and went then as he willed; and on the second day, +after Anthony's visit, set out before dinner to meet him, that they +might speak at length of what lay now upon both their hearts. + +To his father he had said no more, nor he to him. His father sat quiet +in the parlour, or was in his own chamber when Robin was at home; but +the lad understood very well that there was no thought of yielding. And +there were a dozen things on which he himself must come to a decision. +There was the first, the question as to where he was to go for Easter, +and how he was to tell his father; what to do if his father forbade him +outright; whether or no the priests of the district should be told; what +to do with the chapel furniture that was kept in a secret place in a +loft at Matstead. Above all, there hung over him the thought of what +would come after, if his father held to his decision and would allow him +neither to keep his religion at home nor go elsewhere. + +On the second day, therefore, he rode out (the frost still holding, +though the sun was clear and warm), and turned southwards through the +village for the Dethick road, towards the place in which he had +appointed to meet Anthony. At the entrance to the village he passed the +minister, Mr. Barton, coming out of his house, that had been the +priest's lodging, a middle-aged man, made a minister under the new +Prayer-Book, and therefore, no priest as were some of the ministers +about, who had been made priests under Mary. He was a solid man, of no +great wit or learning, but there was not an ounce of harm in him. (They +were fortunate, indeed, to have such a minister; since many parishes had +but laymen to read the services; and in one, not twenty miles away, the +squire's falconer held the living.) Mr. Barton was in his sad-coloured +cloak and round cap, and saluted Robin heartily in his loud, bellowing +voice. + +"Riding abroad again," he cried, "on some secret errand!" + +"I will give your respects to Mr. Babington," said Robin, smiling +heavily. "I am to meet him about a matter of a tithe too!" + +"Ah! you Papists would starve us altogether if you could," roared the +minister, who wished no better than to be at peace with his neighbours, +and was all for liberty. + +"You will get your tithe safe enough--one of you, at least," said Robin. +"It is but a matter as to who shall pay it." + +He waved good-day to the minister and set his horse to the Dethick +track. + + * * * * * + +There was no going fast to-day along this country road. The frosts and +the thaws had made of it a very way of sorrows. Here in the harder parts +was a tumble of ridges and holes, with edges as hard as steel; here in +the softer, the faggots laid to build it up were broken or rotted +through, making it no better than a trap for horses' feet; and it was a +full hour before Robin finished his four miles and turned up through the +winter woodland to the yeoman's farm where he was to meet Anthony. It +was true, as he had said to Mr. Barton, that they were to speak of a +matter of tithe--this was to be their excuse if his father questioned +him--for there was a doubt as to in which parish stood this farm, for +the yeoman tilled three meadows that were in the Babington estate and +two in Matstead. + +As he came up the broken ground on to the crest of the hill, he saw +Anthony come out of the yard-gate and the yeoman with him. Then Anthony +mounted his horse and rode down towards him, bidding the man stay, over +his shoulder. + +"It is all plain enough," shouted Anthony loud enough for the man to +hear. "It is Dethick that must pay. You need not come up, Robin; we must +do the paying." + +Robin checked his mare and waited till the other came near enough to +speak. + +"Young Thomas FitzHerbert is within. He is riding round his new +estates," said the other beneath his breath. "I thought I would come out +and tell you; and I do not know where we can talk or dine. I met him on +the road, and he would come with me. He is eating his dinner there." + +"But I must eat my dinner too," said Robin, in dismay. + +"Will you tell him of what you have told me? He is safe and discreet, I +think." + +"Why, yes, if you think so," said Robin. "I do not know him very well." + +"Oh! he is safe enough, and he has learned not to talk. Besides, all the +country will know it by Easter." + +So they turned their horses back again and rode up to the farm. + + * * * * * + +It was a great day for a yeoman when three gentlemen should take their +dinners in his house; and the place was in a respectful uproar. From the +kitchen vent went up a pillar of smoke, and through its door, in and out +continually, fled maids with dishes. The yeoman himself, John Merton, a +dried-looking, lean man, stood cap in hand to meet the gentlemen; and +his wife, crimson-faced from the fire, peeped and smiled from the open +door of the living-room that gave immediately upon the yard. For these +gentlemen were from three of the principal estates here about. The +Babingtons had their country house at Dethick and their town house in +Derby; the Audreys owned a matter of fifteen hundred acres at least all +about Matstead; and the FitzHerberts, it was said, scarcely knew +themselves all that they owned, or rather all that had been theirs until +the Queen's Grace had begun to strip them of it little by little on +account of their faith. The two Padleys, at least, were theirs, besides +their principal house at Norbury; and now that Sir Thomas was in the +Fleet Prison for his religion, young Mr. Thomas, his heir, was of more +account than ever. + +He was at his dinner when the two came in, and he rose and saluted them. +He was a smallish kind of man, with a little brown beard, and his short +hair, when he lifted his flapped cap to them, showed upright on his +head; he smiled pleasantly enough, and made space for them to sit down, +one at each side. + +"We shall do very well now, Mrs. Merton," he said, "if you will bring in +that goose once more for these gentlemen." + +Then he made excuses for beginning his dinner before them: he was on +his way home and must be off again presently. + +It was a well-furnished table for a yeoman's house. There was a linen +napkin for each guest, one corner of which he tucked into his throat, +while the other corner lay beneath his wooden plate. The twelve silver +spoons were laid out on the smooth elm-table, and a silver salt stood +before Mr. Thomas. There was, of course, an abundance to eat and drink, +even though no more than two had been expected; and John Merton himself +stood hatless on the further side of the table and took the dishes from +the bare-armed maids to place them before the gentlemen. There was a +jack of metheglin for each to drink, and a huge loaf of miscelin (or +bread made of mingled corn) stood in the midst and beyond the salt. + +They talked of this and of that and of the other, freely and easily--of +Mr. Thomas' marriage with Mistress Westley that was to take place +presently; of the new entailment of the estates made upon him by his +uncle. John Merton inquired, as was right, after Sir Thomas, and openly +shook his head when he heard of his sufferings (for he and his wife were +as good Catholics as any in the country); and when the room was empty +for a moment of the maids, spoke of a priest who, he had been told, +would say mass in Tansley next day (for it was in this way, for the most +part, that such news was carried from mouth to mouth). Then, when the +maids came in again, the battle of the tithe was fought once more, and +Mr. Thomas pronounced sentence for the second time. + +They blessed themselves, all four of them, openly at the end, and went +out at last to their horses. + +"Will you ride with us, sir?" asked Anthony; "we can go your way. Robin +here has something to say to you." + +"I shall be happy if you will give me your company for a little. I must +be at Padley before dark, if I can, and must visit a couple of houses on +the way." + +He called out to his two servants, who ran out from the kitchen wiping +their mouths, telling them to follow at once, and the three rode off +down the hill. + +Then Robin told him. + +He was silent for a while after he had put a question or two, biting his +lower lip a little, and putting his little beard into his mouth. Then he +burst out. + +"And I dare not ask you to come to me for Easter," he said. "God only +knows where I shall be at Easter. I shall be married, too, by then. My +father is in London now and may send for me. My uncle is in the Fleet. I +am here now only to see what money I can raise for the fines and for the +solace of my uncle. I cannot ask you, Mr. Audrey, though God knows that +I would do anything that I could. Have you nowhere to go? Will your +father hold to what he says?" + +Robin told him yes; and he added that there were four or five places he +could go to. He was not asking for help or harbourage, but advice only. + +"And even of that I have none," cried Mr. Thomas. "I need all that I can +get myself. I am distracted, Mr. Babington, with all these troubles." + +Robin asked him whether the priests who came and went should be told of +the blow that impended; for at those times every apostasy was of +importance to priests who had to run here and there for shelter. + +"I will tell one or two of the more discreet ones myself," said Mr. +Thomas, "if you will give me leave. I would that they were all discreet, +but they are not. We will name no names, if you please; but some of them +are unreasonable altogether and think nothing of bringing us all into +peril." + +He began to bite his beard again. + +"Do you think the Commissioners will visit us again?" asked Anthony. +"Mr. Fenton was telling me--" + +"It is Mr. Fenton and the like that will bring them down on us if any +will," burst out Mr. FitzHerbert peevishly. "I am as good a Catholic, I +hope, as any in the world; but we can surely live without the sacraments +for a month or two sometimes! But it is this perpetual coming and going +of priests that enrages her Grace and her counsellors. I do not believe +her Grace has any great enmity against us; but she soon will, if men +like Mr. Fenton and Mr. Bassett are for ever harbouring priests and +encouraging them. It is the same in London, I hear; it is the same in +Lancashire; it is the same everywhere. And all the world knows it, and +thinks that we do contemn her Grace by such boldness. All the mischief +came in with that old Bull, _Regnans in Excelsis_, in '69, and--" + +"I beg your pardon, sir," came in a quiet voice from beyond him; and +Robin, looking across, saw Anthony with a face as if frozen. + +"Pooh! pooh!" burst out Mr. Thomas, with an uneasy air. "The Holy +Father, I take it, may make mistakes, as I understand it, in such +matters, as well as any man. Why, a dozen priests have said to me they +thought it inopportune; and--" + +"I do not permit," said Anthony with an air of dignity beyond his years, +"that any man should speak so in my company." + +"Well, well; you are too hot altogether, Mr. Babington. I admire such +zeal indeed, as I do in the saints; but we are not bound to imitate all +that we admire. Say no more, sir; and I will say no more either." + +They rode in silence. + +It was, indeed, one of those matters that were in dispute at that time +amongst the Catholics. The Pope was not swift enough for some, and too +swift for others. He had thundered too soon, said one party, if, indeed, +it was right to thunder at all, and not to wait in patience till the +Queen's Grace should repent herself; and he had thundered not soon +enough, said the other. Whence it may at least be argued that he had +been exactly opportune. Yet it could not be denied that since the day +when he had declared Elizabeth cut off from the unity of the Church and +her subjects absolved from their allegiance--though never, as some +pretended then and have pretended ever since, that a private person +might kill her and do no wrong--ever since that day her bitterness had +increased yearly against her Catholic people, who desired no better than +to serve both her and their God, if she would but permit that to be +possible. + + +II + +It would be an hour later that they bid good-bye to Mr. Thomas +FitzHerbert, high among the hills to the east of the Derwent river; and +when they had seen him ride off towards Wingerworth, rode yet a few +furlongs together to speak of what had been said. + +"He can do nothing, then," said Robin; "not even to give good counsel." + +"I have never heard him speak so before," cried Anthony; "he must be +near mad, I think. It must be his marriage, I suppose." + +"He is full of his own troubles; that is plain enough, without seeking +others. Well, I must bear mine as best I can." + +They were just parting--Anthony to ride back to Dethick, and Robin over +the moors to Matstead, when over a rise in the ground they saw the +heads of three horsemen approaching. It was a wild country that they +were in; there were no houses in sight; and in such circumstances it was +but prudent to remain together until the character of the travellers +should be plain; so the two, after a word, rode gently forward, hearing +the voices of the three talking to one another, in the still air, though +without catching a word. For, as they came nearer the voices ceased, as +if the talkers feared to be overheard. + +They were well mounted, these three, on horses known as Scottish nags, +square-built, sturdy beasts, that could cover forty miles in the day. +They were splashed, too, not the horses only, but the riders, also, as +if they had ridden far, through streams or boggy ground. The men were +dressed soberly and well, like poor gentlemen or prosperous yeomen; all +three were bearded, and all carried arms as could be seen from the flash +of the sun on their hilts. It was plain, too, that they were not rogues +or cutters, since each carried his valise on his saddle, as well as from +their appearance. Our gentlemen, then, after passing them with a salute +and a good-day, were once more about to say good-bye one to the other, +and appoint a time and place to meet again for the hunting of which +Robin had spoken to Marjorie, and, indeed, had drawn rein--when one of +the three strangers was seen to turn his horse and come riding back +after them, while his friends waited. + +The two lads wheeled about to meet him, as was but prudent; but while he +was yet twenty yards away he lifted his hat. He seemed about thirty +years old; he had a pleasant, ruddy face. + +"Mr. Babington, I think, sir," he said. + +"That is my name," said Anthony. + +"I have heard mass in your house, sir," said the stranger. "My name is +Garlick." + +"Why, yes, sir, I remember--from Tideswell. How do you do, Mr. Garlick? +This is Mr. Audrey, of Matstead." + +They saluted one another gravely. + +"Mr. Audrey is a Catholic, too, I think?" + +Robin answered that he was. + +"Then I have news for you, gentlemen. A priest, Mr. Simpson, is with us; +and will say mass at Tansley next Sunday. You would like to speak with +his reverence?" + +"It will give us great pleasure, sir," said Anthony, touching his horse +with his heel. + +"I am bringing Mr. Simpson on his way. He is just fresh from Rheims. And +Mr. Ludlam is to carry him further on Monday," continued Mr. Garlick as +they went forward. + +"Mr. Ludlam?" + +"He is a native of Radbourne, and has but just finished at Oxford.... +Forgive me, sir; I will but just ride forward and tell them." + +The two lads drew rein, seeing that he wished first to tell the others +who they were, before bringing them up; and a strange little thing fell +as Mr. Garlick joined the two. For it happened that by now the sun was +at his setting; going down in a glory of crimson over the edge of the +high moor; and that the three riders were directly in his path from +where the two lads waited. Robin, therefore, looking at them, saw the +three all together on their horses with the circle of the sun about +them, and a great flood of blood-coloured light on every side; the +priest was in the midst of the three, and the two men leaning towards +him seemed to be speaking and as if encouraging him strongly. For an +instant, so strange was the light, so immense the shadows on this side +spread over the tumbled ground up to the lads themselves, so vast the +great vault of illuminated sky, that it seemed to Robin as if he saw a +vision.... Then the strangeness passed, as Mr. Garlick turned away again +to beckon to them; and the boy thought no more of it at that time. + +They uncovered as they rode towards the priest, and bowed low to him as +he lifted his hand with a few words of Latin; and the next instant they +were in talk. + +Mr. Simpson, like his friends, was a youngish man at this time, with a +kind face and great, innocent eyes that seemed to wonder and question. +Mr. Ludlam, too, was under thirty years old, plainly not of gentleman's +birth, though he was courteous and well-mannered. It seemed a great +matter to these three to have fallen in with young Mr. Babington, whose +family was so well-known, and whose own fame as a scholar, as well as an +ardent Catholic, was all over the county. + +Robin said little; he was overshadowed by his friend; but he listened +and watched as the four spoke together, and learned that Mr. Simpson had +been made priest scarcely a month before, and was come from Yorkshire, +which was his own county, to minister in the district of the Peak at +least for awhile. He heard, too, news from Douay, and that the college, +it was thought, might move from there to another place under the +protection of the family of De Guise, since her Grace was very hot +against Douay, whence so many of her troubles proceeded, and was doing +her best to persuade the Governor of the Netherlands to suppress it. +However, said Mr. Simpson, it was not yet done. + +Anthony, too, in his turn gave the news of the county; he spoke of Mr. +Fenton, of the FitzHerberts and others that were safe and discreet +persons; but he said nothing at that time of Mr. Audrey of Matstead, at +which Robin was glad, since his shame deepened on him every hour, and +all the more now that he had met with those three men who rode so +gallantly through the country in peril of liberty or life itself. Nor +did he say anything of the FitzHerberts except that they might be relied +upon. + +"We must be riding," said Garlick at last; "these moors are strange to +me; and it will be dark in half an hour." + +"Will you allow me to be your guide, sir?" asked Anthony of the priest. +"It is all in my road, and you will not be troubled with questions or +answers if you are in my company." + +"But what of your friend, sir?" + +"Oh! Robin knows the country as he knows the flat of his hand. We were +about to separate as we met you." + +"Then we will thankfully accept your guidance, sir," said the priest +gravely. + +An impulse seized upon Robin as he was about to say good-day, though he +was ashamed of it five minutes later as a modest lad would be. Yet he +followed it now; he leapt off his horse and, holding Cecily's rein in +his arm, kneeled on the stones with both knees. + +"Your blessing, sir," he said to the priest. And Anthony eyed him with +astonishment. + + +III + +Robin was moved, as he rode home over the high moors, and down at last +upon the woods of Matstead, in a manner that was new to him, and that he +could not altogether understand. He had met travelling priests before; +indeed, all the priests whose masses he had ever heard, or from whom he +had received the sacraments, were travelling priests who went in peril; +and yet this young man, upon whose consecrated hands the oil was +scarcely yet dry, moved and drew his heart in a manner that he had never +yet known. It was perhaps something in the priest's face that had so +affected him; for there was a look in it of a kind of surprised timidity +and gentleness, as if he wondered at himself for being so foolhardy, and +as if he appealed with that same wonder and surprise to all who looked +on him. His voice, too, was gentle, as if tamed for the seminary and the +altar; and his whole air and manner wholly unlike that of some of the +priests whom Robin knew--loud-voiced, confident, burly men whom you +would have sworn to be country gentlemen or yeomen living on their +estates or farms and fearing to look no man in the face. It was this +latter kind, thought Robin, that was best suited to such a life--to +riding all day through north-country storms, to lodging hardily where +they best could, to living such a desperate enterprise as a priest's +life then was, with prices upon their heads and spies everywhere. It was +not a life for quiet persons like Mr. Simpson, who, surely, would be +better at his books in some college abroad, offering the Holy Sacrifice +in peace and security, and praying for adventurers more hardy than +himself. Yet here was Mr. Simpson just set out upon such an adventure, +of his own free-will and choice, with no compulsion save that of God's +grace. + + * * * * * + +There was yet more than an hour before supper-time when he rode into the +court at last; and Dick Sampson, his own groom, came to take his horse +from him. + +"The master's not been from home to-day, sir," said Dick when Robin +asked of his father. + +"Not been from home?" + +"No, sir--not out of the house, except that he was walking in the +pleasaunce half an hour ago." + +Robin ran up the steps and through the screens to see if his father was +still there; but the little walled garden, so far as he could see it in +the light from the hall windows, was empty; and, indeed, it would be +strange for any man to walk in such a place at such an hour. He +wondered, too, to hear that his father had not been from home; for on +all days, except he were ill, he would be about the estate, here and +there. As he came back to the screens he heard a step going up and down +in the hall, and on looking in met his father face to face. The old man +had his hat on his head, but no cloak on his shoulders, though even with +the fire the place was cold. It was plain that he had been walking up +and down to warm himself. Robin could not make out his face very well, +as he stood with his back to a torch. + +"Where have you been, my lad?" + +"I went to meet Anthony at one of the Dethick farms, sir--John +Merton's." + +"You met no one else?" + +"Yes, sir; Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert was there and dined with us. He rode +with us, too, a little way." And then as he was on the point of speaking +of the priest, he stopped himself; and in an instant knew that never +again must he speak of a priest to his father; his father had already +lost his right to that. His father looked at him a moment, standing with +his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Have you heard anything of a priest that is newly come to these +parts--or coming?" + +"Yes, sir. I hear mass is to be said ... in the district on Sunday." + +"Where is mass to be said?" + +Robin drew along breath, lifted his eyes to his father's and then +dropped them again. + +"Did you hear me, sir? Where is mass to be said?" + +Again Robin lifted and again dropped his eyes. + +"What is the priest's name?" + +Again there was dead silence. For a son, in those days, so to behave +towards his father, was an act of very defiance. Yet the father said +nothing. There the two remained; Robin with his eyes on the ground, +expecting a storm of words or a blow in the face. Yet he knew he could +do no otherwise; the moment had come at last and he must act as he would +be obliged always to act hereafter. + +Matters had matured swiftly in the boy's mind, all unconsciously to +himself. Perhaps it was the timid air of the priest he had met an hour +ago that consummated the process. At least it was so consummated. + +Then his father turned suddenly on his heel; and the son went out +trembling. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +"I will speak to you to-night, sir, after supper," said his father +sharply a second day later, when Robin, meeting his father setting out +before dinner, had asked him to give him an hour's talk. + + * * * * * + +Robin's mind had worked fiercely and intently since the encounter in the +hall. His father had sat silent both at supper and afterwards, and the +next day was the same; the old man spoke no more than was necessary, +shortly and abruptly, scarcely looking his son once in the face, and the +rest of the day they had not met. It was plain to the boy that something +must follow his defiance, and he had prepared all his fortitude to meet +it. Yet the second night had passed and no word had been spoken, and by +the second morning Robin could bear it no longer; he must know what was +in his father's mind. And now the appointment was made, and he would +soon know all. His father was absent from dinner and the boy dined +alone. He learned from Dick Sampson that his father had ridden +southwards. + + * * * * * + +It was not until Robin had sat down nearly half an hour later than +supper-time that the old man came in. The frost was gone; deep mud had +succeeded, and the rider was splashed above his thighs. He stayed at the +fire for his boots to be drawn off and to put on his soft-leather shoes, +while Robin stood up dutifully to await him. Then he came forward, took +his seat without a word, and called for supper. In ominous silence the +meal proceeded, and with the same thunderous air, when it was over, his +father said grace and made his way, followed by his son, into the +parlour behind. He made no motion at first to pour out his wine; then he +helped himself twice and left the jug for Robin. + +Then suddenly he began without moving his head. + +"I wish to know your intentions," he said, with irony so serious that it +seemed gravity. "I cannot flog you or put you to school again, and I +must know how we stand to one another." + +Robin was silent. He had looked at his father once or twice, but now sat +downcast and humble in his place. With his left hand he fumbled, out of +sight, Mr. Maine's pair of beads. His father, for his part, sat with his +feet stretched to the fire, his head propped on his hand, not doing +enough courtesy to his son even to look at him. + +"Do you hear me, sir?" + +"Yes, sir. But I do not know what to say." + +"I wish to know your intentions. Do you mean to thwart and disobey me in +all matters, or in only those that have to do with religion?" + +"I do not wish to thwart or disobey you, sir, in any matters except +where my conscience is touched." (The substance of this answer had been +previously rehearsed, and the latter part of it even verbally.) + +"Be good enough to tell me what you mean by that." + +Robin licked his lips carefully and sat up a little in his chair. + +"You told me, sir, that it was your intention to leave the Church. Then +how can I tell you of what priests are here, or where mass is to be +said? You would not have done so to one who was not a Catholic, six +months ago." + +The man sneered visibly. + +"There is no need," he said. "It is Mr. Simpson who is to say mass +to-morrow, and it is at Tansley that it will be said, at six o'clock in +the morning. If I choose to tell the justices, you cannot prevent it." +(He turned round in a flare of anger.) "Do you think I shall tell the +justices?" + +Robin said nothing. + +"Do you think I shall tell the justices?" roared the old man +insistently. + +"No, sir. Now I do not." + +The other growled gently and sank back. + +"But if you think that I will permit my son to flout and to my face in +my own hall, and not to trust his own father--why, you are immeasurably +mistaken, sir. So I ask you again how far you intend to thwart and +disobey me." + +A kind of despair surged up in the boy's heart--despair at the +fruitlessness of this ironical and furious sort of talk; and with the +despair came boldness. + +"Father, will you let me speak outright, without thinking that I mean to +insult you? I do not; I swear I do not. Will you let me speak, sir?" + +His father growled again a sort of acquiescence, and Robin gathered his +forces. He had prepared a kind of defence that seemed to him reasonable, +and he knew that his father was at least just. They had been friends, +these two, always, in an underground sort of way, which was all that the +relations of father and son in such days allowed. The old man was curt, +obstinate, and even boisterous in his anger; but there was a kindliness +beneath that the boy always perceived--a kindliness which permitted the +son an exceptional freedom of speech, which he used always in the last +resort and which he knew his father loved to hear him use. This, then, +was plainly a legitimate occasion for it, and he had prepared himself to +make the most of it. He began formally: + +"Sir," he said, "you have brought me up in the Old Faith, sent me to +mass, and to the priest to learn my duty, and I have obeyed you always. +You have taught me that a man's duty to God must come before all +else--as our Saviour Himself said, too. And now you turn on me, and bid +me forget all that, and come to church with you.... It is not for me to +say anything to my father about his own conscience; I must leave that +alone. But I am bound to speak of mine when occasion rises, and this is +one of them.... I should be dishonouring and insulting you, sir, if I +did not believe you when you said you would turn Protestant; and a man +who says he will turn Protestant has done so already. It was for this +reason, then, and no other, that I did not answer you the other day; not +because I wish to be disobedient to you, but because I must be obedient +to God. I did not lie to you, as I might have done, and say that I did +not know who the priest was nor where mass was to be said. But I would +not answer, because it is not right or discreet for a Catholic to speak +of these things to those who are not Catholics--" + +"How dare you say I am not a Catholic, sir!" + +"A Catholic, sir, to my mind," said Robin steadily, "is one who holds to +the Catholic Church and to no other. I mean nothing offensive, sir; I +mean what I said I meant, and no more. It is not for me to condemn--" + +"I should think not!" snorted the old man. + +"Well, sir, that is my reason. And further--" + +He stopped, doubtful. + +"Well, sir--what further?" + +"Well, I cannot come to the church with you at Easter." + +His father wheeled round savagely in his chair. + +"Father, hear me out, and then say what you will.... I say I cannot come +with you to church at Easter, because I am a Catholic. But I do not wish +to trouble or disobey you openly. I will go away from home for that +time. Good Mr. Barton will cause no trouble; he wants nothing but peace. +Father, you are not just to me. You have taught me too much, or you have +not given me time enough--" + +Again he broke off, knowing that he had said what he did not mean, but +the old man was on him like a hawk. + +"Not time enough, you say? Well, then--" + +"No, sir; I did not mean that," wailed Robin suddenly. "I do not mean +that I should change if I had a hundred years; I am sure I shall not. +But--" + +"You said, 'Not time enough,'" said the other meditatively. "Perhaps if +I give you time--" + +"Father, I beg of you to forget what I said; I did not mean to say it. +It is not true. But Marjorie said--" + +"Marjorie! What has Marjorie to do with it?" + +Robin found himself suddenly in deep waters. He had plunged and found +that he could not swim. This was the second mistake he had made in +saying what he did not mean.... Again the courage of despair came to +him, and he struck out further. + +"I must tell you of that too, sir," he said. "Mistress Marjorie and I--" + +He stopped, overwhelmed with shame. His father turned full round and +stared at him. + +"Go on, sir." + +Robin seized his glass and emptied it. + +"Well, sir. Mistress Marjorie and I love one another. We are but boy and +girl, sir; we know that--" + +Then his father laughed. It was laughter that was at once hearty and +bitter; and, with it, came the closing of the open door in the boy's +heart. As there came out, after it, sentence after sentence of scorn and +contempt, the bolts, so to say, were shot and the key turned. It might +all have been otherwise if the elder man had been kind, or if he had +been sad or disappointed, or even if he had been merely angry; but the +soreness and misery in the old man's heart--misery at his own acts and +words, and at the outrage he was doing to his own conscience--turned his +judgment bitter, and with that bitterness his son's heart shut tight +against him. + +"But boy and girl!" sneered the man. "A couple of blind puppies, I would +say rather--you with your falcons and mare and your other toys, and the +down on your chin, and your conscience; and she with her white face and +her mother and her linen-parlour and her beads"--(his charity prevailed +so far as to hinder him from more outspoken contempt)--"And you two +babes have been prattling of conscience and prayers together--I make no +doubt, and thinking yourselves Cecilies and Laurences and all the holy +martyrs--and all this without a by-your-leave, I dare wager, from parent +or father, and thinking yourselves man and wife; and you fondling her, +and she too modest to be fondled, and--" + +The plain truth struck him with sudden splendour, at least sufficiently +strong to furnish him with a question. + +"And have you told Mistress Marjorie about your sad rogue of a father?" + +Robin, white with anger, held his lips grimly together and the wrath +blazed in an instant up from the scornful old heart, whose very love was +turned to gall. + +"Tell me, sir--I will have it!" he cried. + +Robin looked at him with such hard fury in his eyes that for a moment +the man winced. Then he recovered himself, and again his anger rose to +the brim. + +"You need not look at me like that, you hound. Tell me, I say!" + +"I will not!" shouted Robin, springing to his feet. + +The old man was up too by now, with all the anger of his son hardened by +his dignity. + +"You will not?" + +"No." + +For a moment the fate of them both still hung in the balance. If, even +at this instant, the father had remembered his love rather than his +dignity, had thought of the past and its happy years, rather than of the +blinding, swollen present; or, on the other side, if the son had but +submitted if only for an hour, and obeyed in order that he might rule +later--the whole course might have run aright, and no hearts have been +broken and no blood shed. But neither would yield. There was the fierce +northern obstinacy in them both; the gentle birth sharpened its edge; +the defiant refusal of the son, the wounding contempt of the father not +for his son only, but for his son's love--these things inflamed the +hearts of both to madness. The father seized his ultimate right, and +struck his son across the face. + +Then the son answered by his only weapon. + +For a sensible pause he stood there, his fresh face paled to chalkiness, +except where the print of five fingers slowly reddened. Then he made a +courteous little gesture, as if to invite his father to sit down; and as +the other did so, slowly and shaking all over, struck at him by careful +and calculated words, delivered with a stilted and pompous air: + +"You have beaten me, sir; so, of course, I obey. Yes, I told Mistress +Marjorie Manners that my father no longer counted himself a Catholic, +and would publicly turn Protestant at Easter, so as to please her Grace +and be in favour with the Court and with the county justices. And I have +told Mr. Babington so as well, and also Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert. It will +spare you the pain, sir, of making any public announcement on the +matter. It is always a son's duty to spare his father pain." + +Then he bowed, wheeled, and went out of the room. + + +II + +Two hours later Robin was still lying completely dressed on his bed in +the dark. + +It was a plain little chamber where he lay, fireless, yet not too cold, +since it was wainscoted from floor to ceiling, and looked out eastwards +upon the pleasaunce, with rooms on either side of it. A couple of +presses sunk in the walls held his clothes and boots; a rush-bottomed +chair stood by the bed; and the bed itself, laid immediately on the +ground, was such as was used in most good houses by all except the +master and mistress, or any sick members of the family--a straw mattress +and a wooden pillow. His bows and arrows, with a pair of dags or +pistols, hung on a rack against the wall at the foot of his bed, and a +little brass cross engraved with a figure of the Crucified hung over it. +It was such a chamber as any son of a house might have, who was a +gentleman and not luxurious. + +A hundred thoughts had gone through his mind since he had flung himself +down here shaking with passion; and these had begun already to repeat +themselves, like a turning wheel, in his head. Marjorie; his love for +her; his despair of that love; his father; all that they had been, one +to the other, in the past; the little, or worse than little, that they +would be, one to the other, in the future; the priest's face as he had +seen it three days ago; what would be done at Easter, what later--all +these things, coloured and embittered now by his own sorrow for his +words to his father, and the knowledge that he had shamed himself when +he should have suffered in silence--these things turned continually in +his head, and he was too young and too simple to extricate one from the +other all at once. + +Things had come about in a manner which yesterday he would not have +thought possible. He had never before spoken so to one to whom he owed +reverence; neither had this one ever treated him so. His father had +stood always to him for uprightness and justice; he had no more +questioned these virtues in his father than in God. Words or acts of +either might be strange or incomprehensible, yet the virtues themselves +remained always beyond a doubt; and now, with the opening of the door +which his father's first decision had accomplished, a crowd of questions +and judgments had rushed in, and a pillar of earth and heaven was shaken +at last.... It is a dreadful day when for the first time to a young man +or maiden, any shadow of God, however unworthy, begins to tremble. + + * * * * * + +He understood presently, however, what an elder man, or a less childish, +would have understood at once--that these things must be dealt with one +by one, and that that which lay nearest to his hand was his own fault. +Even then he fought with his conscience; he told himself that no lad of +spirit could tolerate such insults against his love, to say nothing of +the injustice against himself that had gone before; but, being honest, +he presently inquired of what spirit such a lad would be--not of that +spirit which Marjorie would approve, nor the gentle-eyed priest he had +spoken with.... + +Well, the event was certain with such as Robin, and he was presently +standing at the door of his room, his boots drawn off and laid aside, +listening, with a heart beating in his ears to hinder him, for any sound +from beneath. He did not know whether his father were abed or not. If +not, he must ask his pardon at once. + +He went downstairs at last, softly, to the parlour, and peeped in. All +was dark, except for the glimmer from the stove, and his heart felt +lightened. Then, as he was cold with his long vigil outside his bed, he +stirred the embers into a blaze and stood warming himself. + +How strange and passionless, he thought, looked this room, after the +tempest that had raged in it just now. The two glasses stood there--his +own not quite empty--and the jug between them. His father's chair was +drawn to the table, as if he were still sitting in it; his own was flung +back as he had pushed it from him in his passion. There was an old print +over the stove at which he looked presently--it had been his mother's, +and he remembered it as long as his life had been--it was of Christ +carrying His cross. + +His shame began to increase on him. How wickedly he had answered, with +every word a wound! He knew that the most poisonous of them all were +false; he had known it even while he spoke them; it was not to curry +favour with her Grace that his father had lapsed; it was that his temper +was tried beyond bearing by those continual fines and rebuffs; the old +man's patience was gone--that was all. And he, his son, had not said one +word of comfort or strength; he had thought of himself and his own +wrongs, and being reviled he had reviled again.... + +There stood against the wall between the windows a table and an oaken +desk that held the estate-bills and books; and beside the desk were laid +clean sheets of paper, an ink-pot, a pounce-box, and three or four +feather pens. It was here that he wrote, being newly from school, at his +father's dictation, or his father sometimes wrote himself, with pain and +labour, the few notices or letters that were necessary. So he went to +this and sat down at it; he pondered a little; then he wrote a single +line of abject regret. + +"I ask your pardon and God's, sir, for the wicked words I said before I +left the parlour. R." He folded this and addressed it with the proper +superscription; and left it lying there. + + +III + +It was a strange ride that he had back from Tansley next morning after +mass. + +Dick Sampson had met him with the horses in the stable-court at Matstead +a little after four o'clock in the morning; and together they had ridden +through the pitch darkness, each carrying a lantern fastened to his +stirrup. So complete was the darkness, however, and so small and +confined the circle of light cast by the tossing light, that, for all +they saw, they might have been riding round and round in a garden. Now +trees showed grim and towering for an instant, then gone again; now +their eyes were upon the track, the pools, the rugged ground, the soaked +meadow-grass; half a dozen times the river glimmered on their right, +turbid and forbidding. Once there shone in the circle of light the eyes +of some beast--pig or stag; seen and vanished again. + +But the return journey was another matter; for they needed no lanterns, +and the dawn rose steadily overhead, showing all that they passed in +ghostly fashion, up to final solidity. + +It resembled, in fact, the dawn of Faith in a soul. + +First from the darkness outlines only emerged, vast and sinister, of +such an appearance that it was impossible to tell their proportions or +distances. The skyline a mile away, beyond the Derwent, might have been +the edge of a bank a couple of yards off; the glimmering pool on the +lower meadow path might be the lighted window of a house across the +valley. There succeeded to outlines a kind of shaded tint, all worked in +gray like a print, clear enough to distinguish tree from boulder and sky +from water, yet not clear enough to show the texture of anything. The +third stage was that in which colours began to appear, yet flat and +dismal, holding, it seemed, no light, yet reflecting it; and all in an +extraordinary cold clearness. Nature seemed herself, yet struck to +dumbness. No breeze stirred the twigs overhead or the undergrowth +through which they rode. Once, as the two, riding a little apart, turned +suddenly together, up a ravine into thicker woods, they came upon a herd +of deer, who stared on them without any movement that the eye could see. +Here a stag stood with two hinds beside him; behind, Robin saw the backs +and heads of others that lay still. Only the beasts kept their eyes upon +them, as they went, watching, as if it were a picture only that went by. +So, by little and little, the breeze stirred like a waking man; cocks +crew from over the hills one to the other; dogs barked far away, till +the face of the world was itself again, and the smoke from Matstead rose +above the trees in front. + +Robin had ridden in the dawn an hundred times before; yet never before +had he so perceived that strange deliberateness and sleep of the world; +and he had ridden, too, perhaps twenty times at such an hour, with his +father beside him, after mass on some such occasion. Yet it seemed to +him this time that it was the mass which he had seen, and his own +solitariness, that had illuminated his eyes. It was dreadful to him--and +yet it threw him more than ever on himself and God--that his father +would ride with him so no more. Henceforward he would go alone, or with +a servant only; he would, alone, go up to the door of house or barn and +rap four times with his riding-whip; alone he would pass upstairs +through the darkened house to the shrouded room, garret or bed-chamber, +where the group was assembled, all in silence; where presently a dark +figure would rise and light the pair of candles, and then, himself a +ghost, vest there by their light, throwing huge shadows on wainscot and +ceiling as his arms went this way and that; and then, alone of all that +were of blood-relationship to him, he would witness the Holy +Sacrifice.... + +How long that would be so, he did not know. Something surely must happen +that would prevent it. Or, at least, some day, he would ride so with +Marjorie, whom he had seen this morning across the dusky candle-lit +gloom, praying in a corner; or, maybe, with her would entertain the +priest, and open the door to the worshippers who streamed in, like bees +to a flower-garden, from farm and manor and village. He could not for +ever ride alone from Matstead and meet his father's silence. + +One thing more, too, had moved him this morning; and that, the sight of +the young priest at the altar whom he had met on the moor. Here, more +than ever, was the gentle priestliness and innocency apparent. He stood +there in his red vestments; he moved this way and that; he made his +gestures; he spoke in undertones, lit only by the pair of wax-candles, +more Levitical than ever in such a guise, yet more unsuited than ever to +such exterior circumstances. Surely this man should say mass for ever; +yet surely never again ride over the moors to do it, amidst enemies. He +was of the strong castle and the chamber, not of the tent and the +battle.... And yet it was of such soldiers as these, as well as of the +sturdy and the strong, that Christ's army was made. + + * * * * * + +It was in broad daylight, though under a weeping sky, that Robin rode +into the court at Matstead. He shook the rain from his cloak within the +screens, and stamped to get the mud away; and, as he lifted his hat to +shake it, his father came in from the pleasaunce. + +Robin glanced up at him, swift and shy, half smiling, expecting a word +or a look. His father must surely have read his little letter by now, +and forgiven him. But the smile died away again, as he met the old man's +eyes; they were as hard as steel; his clean-shaven lips were set like a +trap, and, though he looked at his son, it seemed that he did not see +him. He passed through the screens and went down the steps into the +court. + +The boy's heart began to beat so as near to sicken him after his long +fast and his ride. He told himself that his father could not have been +into the parlour yet, though he knew, even while he thought it, that +this was false comfort. He stood there an instant, waiting; hoping that +even now his father would call to him; but the strong figure passed +resolutely on out of sight. + +Then the boy went into the hall, and swiftly through it. There on the +desk in the window lay the pen he had flung down last night, but no +more; the letter was gone; and, as he turned away, he saw lying among +the wood-ashes of the cold stove a little crumpled ball. He stooped and +drew it out. It was his letter, tossed there after the reading; his +father had not taken the pains to keep it safe, nor even to destroy it. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +The company was already assembled both within and without Padley, when +Robin rode up from the riverside, on a fine, windy morning, for the +sport of the day. Perhaps a dozen horses stood tethered at the entrance +to the little court, with a man or two to look after them, for the +greater part of their riders were already within; and a continual coming +and going of lads with dogs; falconers each with his cadge, or +three-sided frame on which sat the hawks; a barking of hounds, a +screaming of birds, a clatter of voices and footsteps in the court--all +this showed that the boy was none too early. A man stepped forward to +take his mare and his hawks; and Robin slipped from his saddle and went +in. + + * * * * * + +Padley Hall was just such a house as would serve a wealthy gentleman who +desired a small country estate with sufficient dignity and not too many +responsibilities. It stood upon the side of the hill, well set-up above +the damps of the valley, yet protected from the north-easterly winds by +the higher slopes, on the tops of which lay Burbage Moor, where the +hawking was to be held. On the south, over the valley, stood out the +modest hall and buttery (as, indeed, they stand to this day), with a +door between them, well buttressed in two places upon the falling +ground, in one by a chimney, in the other by a slope of masonry; and +behind these buildings stood the rest of the court, the stables, the +wash-house, the bake-house and such like, below; and, above, the +sleeping rooms for the family and the servants. On the first floor, +above the buttery and the hall, were situated the ladies' parlour and +chapel; for this, at least, Padley had, however little its dignity in +other matters, that it retained its chapel served in these sorrowful +days not, as once, by a chaplain, but by whatever travelling priest +might be there. + + * * * * * + +Robin entered through the great gate on the east side--a dark entrance +kept by a porter who saluted him--and rode through into the court; and +here, indeed, was the company; for out of the windows of the low hall on +his left came a babble of tongues, while two or three gentlemen with +pots in their hands saluted him from the passage door, telling him that +Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert was within. Mr. Fenton was one of these, come +over from North Lees, where he had his manor, a brisk, middle-aged man, +dressed soberly and well, with a pointed beard and pleasant, dancing +eyes. + +"And Mr. John, too, came last night," he said; "but he will not hawk +with us. He is ridden from London on private matters." + +It was an exceedingly gay sight on which Robin looked as he turned into +the hall. It was a low room, ceiled in oak and wainscoted half-way up, a +trifle dark, since it was lighted only by one or two little windows on +either side, yet warm and hospitable looking; with a great fire burning +in a chimney on the south side, and perhaps a dozen and a half persons +sitting over their food and drink, since they were dining early to-day +to have the longer time for sport. + +A voice hailed him as he came in; and he went up to pay his respects to +Mr. John FitzHerbert, a tall man, well past middle-age, who sat with his +hat on his head, at the centre of the high table, with the arms of Eyre +and FitzHerbert beneath the canopy, all emblazoned, to do the honours +of the day. + +"You are late, sir, you are late!" he cried out genially. "We are just +done." + +Robin saluted him. He liked this man, though he did not know him very +well; for he was continually about the country, now in London, now at +Norbury, now at Swinnerton, always occupied with these endless matters +of fines and recusancy. + +Robin saluted him then, and said a word or two; bowed to Mr. Thomas, his +son, who came up to speak with him; and then looked for Marjorie. She +sat there, at the corner of the table, with Mrs. Fenton at one side, and +an empty seat on the other. Robin immediately sat down in it, to eat his +dinner, beginning with the "gross foods," according to the English +custom. There was a piece of Christmas brawn to-day, from a pig fattened +on oats and peas, and hardened by being lodged (while he lived) on a +boarded floor; all this was told Robin across the table with +particularity, while he ate it, and drank, according to etiquette, a cup +of bastard. He attended to all this zealously, while never for an +instant was he unaware of the girl. + +They tricked their elders very well, these two innocent ones. You would +have sworn that Robin looked for another place and could not see one, +you would have sworn that they were shy of one another, and spoke +scarcely a dozen sentences. Yet they did very well each in the company +of the other; and Robin, indeed, before he had finished his partridge, +had conveyed to her that there was news that he had, and must give to +her before the day was out. She looked at him with enough dismay in her +face for him at least to read it; for she knew by his manner that it +would not be happy news. + +So, too, when the fruit was done and dinner was over (for they had no +opportunity to speak at any length), again you would have sworn that the +last idea in his mind, as in hers, was that he should be the one to help +her to her saddle. Yet he did so; and he fetched her hawk for her, and +settled her reins in her hand; and presently he on one side of her, with +Mr. Fenton on the other side, were riding up through Padley chase; and +the talk and the laughter went up too. + + +II + +Up on the high moors, in the frank-chase, here indeed was a day to make +sad hearts rejoice. The air was soft, as if spring were come before his +time; and in the great wind that blew continually from the south-west, +bearing the high clouds swiftly against the blue, ruffling the stiff +heather-twigs and bilberry beneath--here was wine enough for any +mourners. Before them, as they went--two riding before, with falconers +on either side a little behind and the lads with the dogs beside them, +and the rest in a silent line some twenty yards to the rear--stretched +the wide, flat moor like a tumbled table-cloth, broken here and there by +groups of wind-tossed beech and oak, backed by the tall limestone crags +like pillar-capitals of an upper world; with here and there a little +shallow quarry whence marble had been taken for Derby. But more lovely +than all were the valleys, seen from here, as great troughs up whose +sides trooped the leafless trees--lit by the streams that threw back the +sunlit sky from their bosoms; with here a mist of smoke blown all about +from a village out of sight, here the shadow of a travelling cloud that +fled as swift as the wind that drove it, extinguishing the flash of +water only to release it again, darkening a sweep of land only to make +the sunlight that followed it the more sweet. + +Yet the two saw little of this, dear and familiar as they found it; +since, first they rode together, and next, as it should be with young +hearts, the sport presently began and drove all else away. + +The sport was done in this way: + +The two that rode in front selected each from the cadge one of his own +falcons (it was peregrines that were used at the beginning of the day, +since they were first after partridges), and so rode, carrying his +falcon on his wrist, hooded, belled, and in the leash, ready to cast +off. Immediately before them went a lad with a couple of dogs to nose +the game--these also in a leash until they stiffened. Then the lad +released them and stepped softly back, while the riders moved on at a +foot's-pace, and the spaniels behind rose on their hind legs, choked by +the chain, whimpering, fifty yards in the rear. Slowly the dogs +advanced, each a frozen model of craft and blood-lust, till an instant +afterwards, with a whir and a chattering like a broken clock, the covey +whirled from the thick growth underfoot, and flashed away northwards; +and, a moment later, up went the peregrines behind them. Then, indeed, +it was _sauve qui peut_, for the ground was full of holes here and +there, though there were grass-stretches as well on which all rode with +loose rein, the two whose falcons were sprung always in front, according +to custom, and the rest in a medley behind. Away then went the birds, +pursued and pursuers, till, like a falling star the falcon stooped, and +then, maybe, the other a moment later, down upon the quarry; and a +minute later there was the falcon back again shivering with pride and +ecstasy, or all ruffle-feathered with shame, back on his master's wrist, +and another torn partridge, or maybe two, in the bottom of the lad's +bag; and arguments went full pelt, and cries, and sometimes sharp words, +and faults were found, and praise was given, and so, on for another +pair. + +It was but natural that Robin and Marjorie should compete one against +the other, for they were riding together and talked together. So +presently Mr. Thomas called to them, and beckoned them to their places. +Robin set aside Agnes on to the cadge and chose Magdalen, and Marjorie +chose Sharpie. The array was set, and all moved forward. + +It was a short chase and a merry one. Two birds rose from the heather +and flew screaming, skimming low, as from behind them moved on the +shadows of death, still as clouds, with great noiseless sweeps of +sickle-shaped wings. Behind came the gallopers; Marjorie on her black +horse, Robin on Cecily, seeming to compete, yet each content if either +won, each, maybe--or at least Marjorie--desiring that the other should +win. And the wind screamed past them as they went. + +Then came the stoops--together as if fastened by one string--faultless +and exquisite; and, as the two rode up and drew rein, there, side by +side on the windy turf, two fierce statues of destiny--cruel-eyed, +blood-stained on the beaks, resolute and suspicious--eyed them +motionless, the claws sunk deeply through back and head--awaiting +recapture. + +Marjorie turned swiftly to the boy as he leaped off. + +"In the chapel," she said, "at Padley." + +Robin stared at her. Then he understood and nodded his head, as Mr. +Thomas rode up, his beard all blown about by the wind, breathless but +congratulatory. + + +III + +It fell on Robin's mind with a certain heaviness and reproach that it +should have been she who should have carried in her head all day the +unknown news that he was to give her and he who should have forgotten +it. He understood then a little better of all that he must be to her, +since, as he turned to her (his head full of hawks, and the glory of the +shouting wind, and every thought of Faith and father clean blown away), +it was to her mind that the under-thought had leapt, that here was their +first, and perhaps their last, chance of speaking in private. + +It was indeed their last chance, for the sun already stood over +Chapel-le-Frith far away to the south-west; and they must begin their +circle to return, in which the ladies should fly their merlins after +larks, and there was no hope henceforth for Robin. Henceforth she rode +with Mrs. Fenton and two or three more, while the gentlemen who loved +sport more than courtesy, turned to the left over the broken ground to +work back once more after partridges. And Robin dared no more ride with +his love, for fear that his company all day with her should be marked. + + * * * * * + +It was within an hour of sunset that Robin, riding ahead, having lost a +hawk and his hat, having fallen into a bog-hole, being one mask of mud +from head to foot, slid from his horse into Dick's hands and demanded if +the ladies were back. + +"Yes, sir; they are back half an hour ago. They are in the parlour." + +Robin knew better. "I shall be riding in ten minutes," he said; "give +the mare a mouthful." + +He limped across the court, and looking behind him to see if any saw, +and finding the court at that instant empty, ran up, as well as he +could, the stone staircase that rose from the outside to the chapel +door. It was unlatched. He pushed it open and went in. + + * * * * * + +It was a brave thing that the FitzHerberts did in keeping such a place +at all, since the greatest Protestant fool in the valley knew what the +little chamber was that had the angels carved on the beam-ends, and the +piscina in the south wall. Windows looked out every way; through those +on the south could be seen now the darkening valley and the sunlit +hills, and, yet more necessary, the road by which any travellers from +the valley must surely come. Within, too, scarcely any pains were taken +to disguise the place. It was wainscoted from roof to floor--veiled, +floored and walled in oak. A great chest stood beneath the little east +window of two lights, that cried "Altar" if any chest ever did so. A +great press stood against the wooden screen that shut the room from the +ladies' parlour next door; filled in three shelves with innocent linen, +for this was the only disguise that the place stooped to put on. You +could not swear that mass was said there, but you could swear that it +was a place in which mass would very suitably be said. A couple of +benches were against the press, and three or four chairs stood about the +floor. + +Robin saw her against the light as soon as he came in. She was still in +her blue riding-dress, with the hood on her shoulders, and held her whip +in her hand; but he could see no more of her head than the paleness of +her face and the gleam on her black hair. + +"Well, then?" she whispered sharply; and then: "Why, what a state you +are in!" + +"It's nothing," said Robin. "I rolled in a bog-hole." + +She looked at him anxiously. + +"You are not hurt?... Sit down at least." + +He sat down stiffly, and she beside him, still watching to see if he +were the worse for his falling. He took her hand in his. + +"I am not fit to touch you," he said. + +"Tell me the news; tell me quickly." + +So he told her; of the wrangle in the parlour and what had passed +between his father and him; of his own bitterness; and his letter, and +the way in which the old man had taken it. + +"He has not spoken to me since," he said, "except in public before the +servants. Both nights after supper he has sat silent and I beside him." + +"And you have not spoken to him?" she asked quickly. + +"I said something to him after supper on Sunday, and he made no answer. +He has done all his writing himself. I think it is for him to speak now. +I should only anger him more if I tried it again." + +She sighed suddenly and swiftly, but said nothing. Her hand lay passive +in his, but her face was turned now to the bright southerly window, and +he could see her puzzled eyes and her down-turned, serious mouth. She +was thinking with all her wits, and, plainly, could come to no +conclusion. + +She turned to him again. + +"And you told him plainly that you and I ... that you and I--" + +"That you and I loved one another? I told him plainly. And it was his +contempt that angered me." + +She sighed again. + + * * * * * + +It was a troublesome situation in which these two children found +themselves. Here was the father of one of them that knew, yet not the +parents of the other, who should know first of all. Neither was there +any promise of secrecy and no hope of obtaining it. If she should not +tell her parents, then if the old man told them, deception would be +charged against her; and if she should tell them, perhaps he would not +have done so, and so all be brought to light too soon and without cause. +And besides all this there were the other matters, heavy enough before, +yet far more heavy now--matters of their hopes for the future, the +complications with regard to the Religion, what Robin should do, what he +should not do. + +So they sat there silent, she thinking and he waiting upon her thought. + +She sighed again and turned to him her troubled eyes. + +"My Robin," she said, "I have been thinking so much about you, and I +have feared sometimes--" + +She stopped herself, and he looked for her to finish. She drew her hand +away and stood up. + +"Oh! it is miserable!" she cried. "And all might have been so happy." + +The tears suddenly filled her eyes so that they shone like flowers in +dew. + +He stood up, too, and put his muddy arm about her shoulders. (She felt +so slight and slender.) + +"It will be happy," he said. "What have you been fearing?" + +She shook her head and the tears ran down. + +"I cannot tell you yet.... Robin, what a holy man that travelling priest +must be, who said mass on Sunday." + +The lad was bewildered at her swift changes of thought, for he did not +yet see the chain on which they hung. He strove to follow her. + +"It seemed so to me too," he said. "I think I have never seen--" + +"It seemed so to you too," she cried. "Why, what do you know of him?" + +He was amazed at her vehemence. She had drawn herself clear of his arm +and was looking at him full in the face. + +"I met him on the moor," he said. "I had some talk with him. I got his +blessing." + +"You got his blessing! Why, so did I, after the mass, when you were +gone." + +"Then that should join us more closely than ever," he said. + +"In Heaven, perhaps, but on earth--" She checked herself again. "Tell me +what you thought of him, Robin." + +"I thought it was strange that such a man as that should live such a +rough life. If he were in the seminary now, safe at Douay--" + +She seemed a shade paler, but her eyes did not flicker. + +"Yes," she said. "And you thought--?" + +"I thought that it was not that kind of man who should fare so hardly. +If it were a man like John Merton, who is accustomed to such things, or +a man like me--" + +Again he stopped; he did not know why. But it was as if she had cried +out, though she neither spoke nor moved. + +"You thought that, did you, Robin?" she said presently, never moving her +eyes from his face. "I thought so, too." + +"But I do not know why we are talking about Mr. Simpson," said the lad. +"There are other affairs more pressing." + +"I am not sure," said she. + +"Marjorie, my love, what are you thinking about?" + +She had turned her eyes and was looking out through the little window. +Outside the red sunlight still lay on the crags and slopes beyond the +deep valley beneath them, and her face was bright in the reflected +brightness. Yet he thought he had never seen her look so serious. She +turned her eyes back to him as he spoke. + +"I am thinking of a great many things," she said. "I am thinking of the +Faith and of sorrow and of love." + +"My love, what do you mean?" + +Suddenly she made a swift movement towards him and took him by the +lapels. He could see her face close beneath his, yet it was in shadow +again, and he could make out of it no more than the shadows of mouth and +eyes. + +"Robin," she said, "I cannot tell you unless God tells you Himself. I am +told that I am too scrupulous sometimes.... I do not know what I think, +nor what is right, nor what are fancies.... But ... but I know that I +love you with all my heart ... and ... and that I cannot bear--" + +Then her face was on his breast in a passion of weeping, and his arms +were round her, and his lips on her hair. + + +IV + +Dick found his master a poor travelling companion as they rode home. He +made a few respectful remarks as to the sport of the day, but he was +answered by a wandering eye and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Mr. Robin +rode loosely and heavily. Three or four times his mare stumbled (and no +wonder, after all that she had gone through), and he jerked her +savagely. + +Then Dick tried another tack and began to speak of the company, but with +no greater success. He discoursed on the riding of Mrs. Fenton, and the +peregrine of Mr. Thomas, who had distinguished herself that day, and he +was met by a lack-lustre eye once more. + +Finally he began to speak of the religious gossip of the +countryside--how it was said that another priest, a Mr. Nelson, had been +taken, in London, as Mr. Maine had been in Cornwall; that, it was said +again, priests would have to look to their lives in future, and not only +to their liberty; how the priest, Mr. Simpson, was said to be a native +of Yorkshire, and how he was ridden northwards again, still with Mr. +Ludlam. And here he met with a little more encouragement. Mr. Robin +asked where was Mr. Simpson gone to, and Dick told him he did not know, +but that he would be back again by Easter, it was thought, or, if not, +another priest would be in the district. Then he began to gossip of Mr. +Ludlam; how a man had told him that his cousin's wife thought that Mr. +Ludlam was to go abroad to be made priest himself, and that perhaps Mr. +Garlick would go too. + +"That is the kind of priest we want, sir," said Dick. + +"Eh?" + +"That is the kind of priest we want, sir," repeated Dick solemnly. "We +should do better with natives than foreigners. We want priests who know +the county and the ways of the people--and men too, I think, sir, who +can ride and know something of sport, and can talk of it. I told Mr. +Simpson, sir, of the sport we were to have to-day, and he seemed to care +nothing about it!" + +Robin sighed aloud. + +"I suppose so," he said. + +"Mr. John looked well, sir," pursued Dick, and proceeded to speak at +length of the FitzHerbert troubles, and the iniquities of the Queen's +Grace. He was such a man as was to be found throughout all England +everywhere at this time--a man whose religion was a part of his +politics, and none the less genuine for that. He was a shrewd man in his +way, with the simplicity which belongs to such shrewdness; he disliked +the new ways which he experienced chiefly in the towns, and put them +down, not wholly without justice, to the change of which religion formed +an integral part; he hated the beggars and would gladly have gone to see +one flogged; and he disliked the ministers and their sermons and their +"prophesyings" with all the healthy ardour of prejudice. Once in the +year did Dick approach the sacraments, and a great business he made of +it, being unusually morose before them and almost indecently boisterous +after them. He was feudal to the very heart of him; and it was his +feudality that made him faithful to his religion as well as to his +masters, for either of which he would resolutely have died. And what in +the world he would do when he discovered, at Easter, that the objects of +his fidelity were to take opposite courses, Robin could not conceive. + +As they rode in at last, Robin, who had fallen silent again after Dick's +last piece of respectful vehemence, suddenly beat his own leg with his +whip and uttered an inaudible word. It seemed to Dick that the young +master had perceived clearly that which plainly had been worrying him +all the way home, and that he did not like it. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +Mr. Manners sat in his parlour ten days after the beginning of Lent, +full of his Sunday dinner and of perplexing thoughts all at once. He had +eaten well and heartily after his week of spare diet, and then, while in +high humour with all the world, first his wife and then his daughter had +laid before him such revelations that all the pleasure of digestion was +gone. It was but three minutes ago that Marjorie had fled from him in a +torrent of tears, for which he could not see himself responsible, since +he had done nothing but make the exclamations and comments that should +be expected of a father in such a case. + +The following were the points for his reflection--to begin with those +that touched him less closely. + +First that his friend Mr. Audrey, whom he had always looked upon with +reverence and a kind of terror because of his hotness in matters of +politics and religion, had capitulated to the enemy and was to go to +church at Easter. Mr. Manners himself had something of timidity in his +nature: he was conservative certainly, and practised, when he could +without bringing himself into open trouble, the old religion in which he +had been brought up. He, like the younger generation, had been educated +at Derby Grammar School, and in his youth had sat with his parents in +the nave of the old Cluniac church of St. James to hear mass. He had +then entered his father's office in Derby, about the time that the +Religious Houses had fallen, and had transferred the scene of his +worship to St. Peter's. At Queen Mary's accession, he had stood, with +mild but genuine enthusiasm, in his lawyer's gown, in the train of the +sheriff who proclaimed her in Derby market-place; and stood in the +crowd, with corresponding dismay, six years later to shout for Queen +Elizabeth. Since that date, for the first eleven years he had gone, as +did other Catholics, to his parish church secretly, thankful that there +was no doubt as to the priesthood of his parson, to hear the English +prayers; and then, to do him justice, though he heard with something +resembling consternation the decision from Rome that compromise must +cease and that, henceforth, all true Catholics must withdraw themselves +from the national worship, he had obeyed without even a serious moment +of consideration. He had always feared that it might be so, +understanding that delay in the decision was only caused by the hope +that even now the breach might not be final or complete; and so was +better prepared for the blow when it came. Since that time he had heard +mass when he could, and occasionally even harboured priests, urged +thereto by his wife and daughter; and, for the rest, still went into +Derby for three or four days a week to carry on his lawyer's business, +with Mr. Biddell his partner, and had the reputation of a sound and +careful man without bigotry or passion. + +It was, then, a shock to his love of peace and serenity, to hear that +yet another Catholic house had fallen, and that Mr. Audrey, one of his +clients, could no longer be reckoned as one of his co-religionists. + +The next point for his reflection was that Robin was refusing to follow +his father's example; the third, that somebody must harbour the boy over +Easter, and that, in his daughter's violently expressed opinion, and +with his wife's consent, he, Thomas Manners, was the proper person to do +it. Last, that it was plain that there was something between his +daughter and this boy, though what that was he had been unable to +understand. Marjorie had flown suddenly from the room just as he was +beginning to put his questions. + +It is no wonder, then, that his peace of mind was gone. Not only were +large principles once more threatened--considerations of religion and +loyalty, but also those small and intimate principles which, so far more +than great ones, agitate the mind of the individual. He did not wish to +lose a client; yet neither did he wish to be unfriendly to a young +confessor for the faith. Still less did he wish to lose his daughter, +above all to a young man whose prospects seemed to be vanishing. He +wondered whether it would be prudent to consult Mr. Biddell on the +point.... + + * * * * * + +He was a small and precise man in his body and face, as well as in his +dress; his costume was, of course, of black; but he went so far as to +wear black buckles, too, on his shoes, and a black hilt on his sword. +His face was little and anxious; his eyebrows were perpetually arched, +as if in appeal, and he was accustomed, when in deep thought, to move +his lips as if in a motion of tasting. So, then, he sat before his fire +to-day after dinner, his elbow on the table where his few books lay, his +feet crossed before him, his cup of drink untouched at his side; and +meantime he tasted continually with his lips, as if better to appreciate +the values and significances of the points for his consideration. + + * * * * * + +It would be about half an hour later that the door opened once more and +Marjorie came in again. + +She was in her fine dress to-day--fine, that is, according to the +exigencies of the time and place, though sober enough if for a +town-house--in a good blue silk, rather dark, with a little ruff, with +lace ruffles at her wrists, and a quilted petticoat, and silver +buckles. For she was a gentleman's daughter, quite clearly, and not a +yeoman's, and she must dress to her station. Her face was very pale and +quite steady. She stood opposite her father. + +"Father," she said, "I am very sorry for having behaved like a goose. +You were quite right to ask those questions, and I have come back to +answer them." + +He had ceased tasting as she came in. He looked at her timidly and yet +with an attempt at severity. He knew what was due from him as a father. +But for the present he had forgotten what questions they were; his mind +had been circling so wildly. + +"You are right to come back," he said, "you should not have left me so." + +"I am very sorry," she said again. + +"Well, then--you tell me that Mr. Robin has nowhere else to go." + +She flushed a little. + +"He has ten places to go to. He has plenty of friends. But none have the +right that we have. He is a neighbour; it was to me, first of all, that +he told the trouble." + +Then he remembered. + +"Sit down," he said. "I must understand much better first. I do not +understand why he came to you first. Why not, if he must come to this +house at all--why not to me? I like the lad; he knows that well enough." + +He spoke with an admirable dignity, and began to feel more happy in +consequence. + +She had sat down as he told her, on the other side of the table; but he +could not see her face. + +"It would have been better if he had, perhaps," she said. "But--" + +"Yes? What 'But' is that?" + +Then she faced him, and her eyes were swimming. + +"Father, he told me first because he loves me, and because I love him." + +He sat up. This was speaking outright what she had only hinted at +before. She must have been gathering her resolution to say this, while +she had been gone. Perhaps she had been with her mother. In that case he +must be cautious.... + +"You mean--" + +"I mean just what I say. We love one another, and I am willing to be his +wife if he desires it--and with your permission. But--" + +He waited for her to go on. + +"Another 'But'!" he said presently, though with increasing mildness. + +"I do not think he will desire it after a while. And ... and I do not +know what I wish. I am torn in two." + +"But you are willing?" + +"I pray for it every night," she cried piteously. "And every morning I +pray that it may not be so." + +She was staring at him as if in agony, utterly unlike what he had looked +for in her. He was completely bewildered. + +"I do not understand one word--" + +Then she threw herself at his knees and seized his hands; her face was +all torn with pain. + +"And I cannot explain one word.... Father, I am in misery. You must pray +for me and have patience with me.... I must wait ... I must wait and see +what God wishes." + +"Now, now...." + +"Father, you will trust me, will you not?" + +"Listen to me. You must tell me thus. Do you love this boy?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"And you have told him so? He asked you, I mean?" + +"Yes." + +He put her hands firmly from his knee. + +"Then you must marry him, if matters can be arranged. It is what I +should wish. But I do not know--" + +"Father, you do not understand--you do not understand. I tell you I am +willing enough, if he wishes it ... if he wishes it." + +Again she seized his hands and held them. And again bewilderment came +down on him like a cloud. + +"Father! you must trust me. I am willing to do everything that I ought." +(She was speaking firmly and confidently now.) "If he wishes to marry +me, I will marry him. I love him dearly.... But you must say nothing to +him, not one word. My mother agrees with this. She would have told you +herself; but I said that I would--that I must be brave.... I must learn +to be brave.... I can tell you no more." + +He lifted her hands and stood up. + +"I see that I understand nothing that you say after all," he said with a +fine fatherly dignity. "I must talk with your mother." + + +II + +He found his wife half an hour later in the ladies' parlour, which he +entered with an air as of nothing to say. With the same air of +disengagement he made sure that Marjorie was nowhere in the room, and +presently sat down. + +Mrs. Manners was well past her prime. She was over forty years old and +looked over fifty, though she retained the air of distinction which +Marjorie had derived from her; but her looks belied her, and she had not +one tithe of the subtlety and keenness of her daughter. She was, in +fact, more suited to be wife to her husband than mother to her daughter. + +"You have come about the maid," she said instantly, with disconcerting +penetration and frankness. "Well, I know no more than you. She will tell +me nothing but what she has told you. She has some fiddle-faddle in her +head, as maids will, but she will have her way with us, I suppose." + +She drew her needle through the piece of embroidery which she permitted +to herself for an hour on Sundays, knotted the thread and bit it off. +Then she regarded her husband. + +"I.... I will have no fiddle-faddle in such a matter," he said +courageously. "Maids did not rule their parents when I was a boy; they +obeyed them or were beaten." + +His wife laughed shortly; and began to thread her needle again. + +He began to explain. The match was in all respects suitable. Certainly +there were difficulties, springing from the very startling events at +Matstead, and it well might be that a man who would do as Mr. Audrey had +done (or, rather, proposed to do) might show obstinacy in other +directions too. Therefore there was no hurry; the two were still very +young, and it certainly would be wiser to wait for any formal betrothal +until Robin's future disclosed itself. But no action of Mr. Audrey's +need delay the betrothal indefinitely; if need were, he, Mr. Manners, +would make proper settlements. Marjorie was an only daughter; in fact, +she was in some sort an heiress. The Manor would be sufficient for them +both. As to any other difficulties--any of the maidenly fiddle-faddle of +which his wife had spoken--this should not stand in the way for an +instant. + +His wife laughed again in the same exclamatory manner, when he had done +and sat stroking his knees. + +"Why, you understand nothing about it, Mr. Manners," she said, "Did the +maid not tell you she would marry him, if he wished it? She told me so." + +"Then what is the matter?" he asked. + +"I know no more than you." + +"Does he not wish it?" + +"She says so." + +"Then--" + +"Yes, that is what I say. And yet that says nothing. There is something +more." + +"Ask her." + +"I have asked her. She bids me wait, as she bids you. It is no good, Mr. +Manners. We must wait the maid's time." + +He sat, breathing audibly through his nose. + + * * * * * + +These two were devoted to their daughter in a manner hardly to be +described. She was the only one left to them; for the others, of whom +two had been boys, had died in infancy or childhood; and, in the event, +Marjorie had absorbed the love due to them all. She was a strain higher +than themselves, thought her parents, and so pride in her was added to +love. The mother had made incredible sacrifices, first to have her +educated by a couple of old nuns who still survived in Derby, and then +to bring her out suitably at Babington House last year. The father had +cordially approved, and joined in the sacrifices, which included an +expenditure which he would not have thought conceivable. The result was, +of course, that Marjorie, under cover of a very real dutifulness, ruled +both her parents completely; her mother acknowledged the dominion, at +least, to herself and her husband; her father pretended that he did +not; and on this occasion rose, perhaps, nearer to repudiating it than +ever in his life. It seemed to him unbearable to be bidden by his +daughter, though with the utmost courtesy and affection, to mind his own +business. + +So he sat and breathed audibly through his nose, and meditated +rebellion. + + * * * * * + +"And is the lad to come here for Easter?" he asked at last. + +"I suppose so." + +"And for how long?" + +"So long as the maid appoints." + +He breathed louder than ever. + +"And, Mr. Manners," continued his wife emphatically, "no word must be +said to him on the matter. The maid is very plain as to that.... Oh! we +must let her have her way." + +"Where is she gone?" + +She nodded with her head to the window. He went to it and looked out. + + * * * * * + +It was the little walled garden on which he looked, in which, if he had +but known it, the lad whom he liked had kissed the maid whom he loved; +and there walked the maid, at this moment with her back to him, going up +the central path that was bordered with box. The February sun shone on +her as she went, on her hooded head, her dark cloak and her blue dress +beneath. He watched her go up, and drew back a little as she turned, so +that she might not see him watching; and as she came down again he saw +that she held a string of beads in her fingers and was making her +devotions. She was a good girl.... That, at least, was a satisfaction. + +Then he turned from the window again. + +"Well?" said his wife. + +"I suppose it must be as she says." + + +III + +It was an hour before sunset when Marjorie came out again into the +walled garden that had become for her now a kind of sanctuary, and in +her hand she carried a letter, sealed and inscribed. On the outside the +following words were written: + +"To Mr. Robin Audrey. At Matstead. + +"Haste, haste, haste." + +Within, the sheet was covered from top to bottom with the neat +convent-hand she had learnt from the nuns. The most of it does not +concern us. It began with such words as you would expect from a maid to +her lover; it continued to inform him that her parents were willing, +and, indeed, desirous, that he should come to them for Easter, and that +her father would write a formal letter later to invite him; it was to be +written from Derby, (this conspirator informed the other), that it might +cause less comment when Mr. Audrey saw it, and was to be expressed in +terms that would satisfy him. Finally, it closed as it had begun, and +was subscribed by his "loving friend, M. M." One paragraph, however, is +worth attention. + +"I have told my father and mother, that we love one another, my Robin; +and that you have asked me to marry you, and that I have consented +should you wish to do so when the time comes. They have consented most +willingly; and so Jesu have you in His keeping, and guide your mind +aright." + +It was this paragraph that had cost her half of the hour occupied in +writing; for it must be expressed just so and no otherwise; and its +wording had cost her agony lest on the one side she should tell him too +much, and, on the other, too little. And her agony was not yet over; for +she had to face its sending, and the thought of all that it might cost +her. She was to give it to one of the men who was to leave early for +Derby next morning and was to deliver it at Matstead on the road; so she +brought it out now to her sanctuary to spread it, like the old King of +Israel, before the Lord.... + + * * * * * + +There was a promise of frost in the air to-night. Underfoot the moisture +of the path was beginning, not yet to stiffen, but rather to withdraw +itself; and there was a cold clearness in the air. Over the wall beside +the house, beyond the leafless trees which barred it like prison-bars, +burned the sunset, deepening and glowing redder every instant. Yet she +felt nothing of the cold, for a fire was within her as she went again up +and down the path on which her father had watched her walk--a fire of +which as yet she could not discern the fuel. The love of Robin was +there--that she knew; and the love of Christ was there--so she thought; +and yet where the divine and the human passion mingled, she could not +tell; nor whether, indeed, for certain, it were the love of Christ at +all, and not a vain imagination of her own as to how Christ, in this +case, would be loved. Only she knew that across her love for Robin a +shadow had fallen; she could scarcely tell when it had first come to +her, and whence. Yet it had so come; it had deepened rapidly and +strongly during the mass that Mr. Simpson had said, and, behold! in its +very darkness there was light. And so it had continued till confusion +had fallen on her which none but Robin could dissolve. It must be his +word finally that must give her the answer to her doubts; and she must +make it easy for him to give it. He must know, that is, that she loved +him more passionately than ever, that her heart would break if she had +not her desire; and yet that she would not hold him back if a love that +was greater than hers could be for him or his for her, called him to +another wedding than that of which either had yet spoken. A broken heart +and God's will done would be better than that God's will should be +avoided and her own satisfied. + + * * * * * + +It was this kind of considerations, therefore, that sent her swiftly to +and fro, up and down the path under the darkening sky--if they can be +called considerations which beat on the mind like a clamour of shouting; +and, as she went, she strove to offer all to God: she entreated Him to +do His will, yet not to break her heart; to break her heart, yet not +Robin's; to break both her heart and Robin's, if that Will could not +otherwise be served. + +Her lips moved now and again as she went; but her eyes were downcast and +her face untroubled.... + + * * * * * + +As the bell in the court rang for supper she went to the door and looked +through. The man was just saddling up in the stable-door opposite. + +"Jack," she called, "here is the letter. Take if safely." + +Then she went in to supper. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +It was a great day and a solemn when the squire of Matstead went to +Protestant communion for the first time. It was Easter Day, too, but +this was less in the consideration of the village. There was first the +minister, Mr. Barton, in a condition of excited geniality from an early +hour. He was observed soon after it was light, by an old man who was up +betimes, hurrying up the village street in his minister's cassock and +gown, presumably on his way to see that all preparations were complete +for the solemnity. His wife was seen to follow him a few minutes later. + +By eight o'clock the inhabitants of the village were assembled at points +of vantage; some openly at their doors; others at the windows; and +groups from the more distant farms, decked suitably, stood at all +corners; to be greeted presently by their minister hurrying back once +more from the church to bring the communion vessels and the bread and +wine. The four or five soldiers of the village--a couple of billmen and +pikemen and a real gunner--stood apart in an official group, but did not +salute him. He did not speak of that which was in the minds of all, but +he waved a hand to this man, bid a happy Easter to another, and +disappeared within his lodgings leaving a wake of excitement behind him. + +By a quarter before nine the three bells had begun to jangle from the +tower; and the crowd had increased largely, when Mr. Barton once more +passed to the church in the spring sunshine, followed by the more devout +who wished to pray, and the more timid who feared a disturbance. For +sentiments were not wholly on the squire's side. There was first a +number of Catholics, openly confessed or at least secretly Catholic, +though these were not in full force since most were gone to Padley +before dawn; and there was next a certain sentiment abroad, even amongst +those who conformed, in favour of tradition. That the squire of Matstead +should be a Catholic was at least as fundamental an article of faith as +that the minister should be a Protestant. There was little or no +hot-gospel here; men still shook their heads sympathetically over the +old days and the old faith, which indeed had ceased to be the faith of +all scarcely twenty years ago; and it appeared to the most of them that +the proper faith of the Quality, since they had before their eyes such +families as the Babingtons, the Fentons, and the FitzHerberts, was that +to which their own squire was about to say good-bye. It was known, too, +publicly by now, that Mr. Robin was gone away for Easter, since he would +not follow his father. So the crowd waited; the dogs sunned themselves; +and the gunner sat on a wall. + + * * * * * + +The bells ceased at nine o'clock, and upon the moment, a group came +round the churchyard wall, down from the field-path and the stile that +led to the manor. + +First, walking alone, came the squire, swiftly and steadily. His face +was flushed a little, but set and determined. He was in his fine +clothes, ruff and all; his rapier was looped at his side, and he carried +a stick. Behind him came three or four farm servants; then a yeoman and +his wife; and last, at a little distance, three or four onlookers. + +There was dead silence as he came; the hum of talk died at the corners; +the bells' clamour had even now ceased. It seemed as if each man waited +for his neighbour to speak. There was only the sound of the squire's +brisk footsteps on the few yards of cobbles that paved the walk up to +the lych-gate. At the door of the church, seen beyond him, was a crowd +of faces. + +Then a man called something aloud from fifty yards away; but there was +no voice to echo him. The folk just watched their lord go by, staring on +him as on some strange sight, forgetting even to salute him. And so in +silence he passed on. + + +II + +Within, the church murmured with low talking. Already two-thirds of it +was full, and all faces turned and re-turned to the door at every +footstep or sound. As the bells ceased a sigh went up, as if a giant +drew breath; then, once again, the murmuring began. + +The church was as most were in those days. It was but a little place, +yet it had had in old days great treasures of beauty. There had been, +until some ten or twelve years ago, a carved screen that ran across the +chancel arch, with the Rood upon it, and St. Mary and St. John on this +side and that. The high-altar, it was remembered, had been of stone +throughout, surrounded with curtains on the three sides, hanging between +posts that had each a carven angel, all gilt. Now all was gone, +excepting only the painted windows (since glass was costly). The chancel +was as bare as a barn; beneath the whitewash, high over the place where +the old canopy had hung, pale colours still glimmered through where, +twelve years ago, Christ had sat crowning His Mother. The altar was +gone; its holy slab served now as the pavement within the west door, +where the superstitious took pains to step clear of it. The screen was +gone; part lay beneath the tower; part had been burned; Christ's Cross +held up the roof of the shed where the minister kept his horse; the +three figures had been carted off to Derby to help swell the Protestant +bonfire. The projecting stoup to the right of the main door had been +broken half off.... In place of these glories there stood now, in the +body of the church, before the chancel-steps, a great table, such as the +rubrics of the new Prayer-Book required, spread with a white cloth, upon +which now rested two tall pewter flagons of wine, a flat pewter plate as +great as a small dish, and two silver communion-cups--all new. And to +one side of this, in a new wainscoted desk, waited worthy Mr. Barton for +the coming of his squire--a happy man that day; his face beamed in the +spring sunlight; he had on his silk gown, and he eyed, openly, the door +through which his new patron was to come. + + * * * * * + +Then, without sound or warning, except for the footsteps on the +paving-stones and the sudden darkening of the sunshine on the floor, +there came the figure for which all looked. As he entered he lifted his +hand to his head, but dropped it again; and passed on, sturdy, and (you +would have said) honest and resolute too, to his seat behind the +reading-desk. He was met by silence; he was escorted by silence; and in +silence he sat down. + +Then the waiting crowd surged in, poured this way and that, and flowed +into the benches. And Mr. Barton's voice was raised in holy exhortation. + +"At what time soever a sinner doth repent him of his sin from the bottom +of his heart, I will put all his wickedness out of remembrance, with the +Lord." + + +III + +Those who could best observe (for the tale was handed on with the +careful accuracy of those who cannot read or write) professed themselves +amazed at the assured ease of the squire. No sound came from the seat +half-hidden behind the reading-desk where he sat alone; and, during the +prayers when he stood or kneeled, he moved as if he understood well +enough what he was at. A great bound Prayer-Book, it was known, rested +before him on the book-board, and he was observed to turn the pages more +than once. + +It was, indeed, a heavy task that Mr. Barton had to do. For first there +was the morning prayer, with its psalms, its lessons and its prayers; +next the Litany, and last the communion, in the course of which was +delivered one of the homilies set forth by authority, especially +designed for the support of those who were no preachers--preceded and +followed by a psalm. But all was easy to-day to a man who had such cause +for exultation; his voice boomed heartily out; his face radiated his +pleasure; and he delivered his homily when the time came, with excellent +emphasis and power--all from the reading-desk, except the communion. + +Yet it is to be doubted whether the attention of those that heard him +was where their pastor would have desired it to be; since even to these +country-folk the drama of the whole was evident. There, seen full when +he sat down, and in part when he kneeled and stood, was the man who +hitherto had stood to them for the old order, the old faith, the old +tradition--the man whose horse's footsteps had been heard, times and +again, before dawn, in the village street, bearing him to the mystery of +the mass; through whose gate strangers had ridden, perhaps three or four +times in the year, to find harbourage--strangers dressed indeed as plain +gentlemen or yeomen, yet known, every one of them, to be under her +Grace's ban, and to ride in peril of liberty if not of life. + +Yet here he sat--a man feared and even loved by some--the first of his +line to yield to circumstance, and to make peace with his times. Not a +man of all who looked on him believed him certainly to be that which his +actions professed him to be; some doubted, especially those who +themselves inclined to the old ways or secretly followed them; and the +hearts of these grew sick as they watched. + +But the crown and climax was yet to come. + + * * * * * + +The minister finished at last the homily--it was one which inveighed +more than once against the popish superstitions; and he had chosen it +for that reason, to clench the bargain, so to say--all in due order; for +he was a careful man and observed his instructions, unlike some of his +brethren who did as they pleased; and came back again to the long north +side of the linen-covered table to finish the service. + +He had no man to help him; so he was forced to do it all for himself; so +he went forward gallantly, first reading a set of Scripture sentences +while the officers collected first for the poor-box, and then, as it was +one of the offering-days, collected again the dues for the curate. It +was largely upon these, in such poor parishes as was this, that the +minister depended and his wife. + +Then he went on to pray for the whole estate of Christ's Church militant +here on earth, especially for God's "servant, Elizabeth our Queen, that +under her we may be godly and quietly governed"; then came the +exhortation, urging any who might think himself to be "a blasphemer of +God, an hinderer or slanderer of His Word ... or to be in malice or +envy," to bewail his sins, and "not to come to this holy table, lest +after the taking of that holy sacrament, the devil enter into him, as he +entered into Judas, and fill him full of all iniquities." + +So forward with the rest. He read the Comfortable Words; the English +equivalent for Sursum Corda with the Easter Preface; then another +prayer; and finally rehearsed the story of the Institution of the Most +Holy Sacrament, though without any blessing of the bread and wine, at +least by any action, since none such was ordered in the new Prayer-Book. +Then he immediately received the bread and wine himself, and stood up +again, holding the silver plate in his hand for an instant, before +proceeding to the squire's seat to give him the communion. Meantime, so +great was the expectation and interest that it was not until the +minister had moved from the table that the first communicants began to +come up to the two white-hung benches, left empty till now, next to the +table. + + * * * * * + +Then those who still watched, and who spread the tale about afterwards, +saw that the squire did not move from his seat to kneel down. He had put +off his hat again after the homily, and had so sat ever since; and now +that the minister came to him, still there he sat. + +Now such a manner of receiving was not unknown; yet it was the sign of a +Puritan; and, so far from the folk expecting such behaviour in their +squire, they had looked rather for Popish gestures, knockings on the +breast, signs of the cross. + +For a moment the minister stood before the seat, as if doubtful what to +do. He held the plate in his left hand and a fragment of bread in his +fingers. Then, as he began the words he had to say, one thing at least +the people saw, and that was that a great flush dyed the old man's face, +though he sat quiet. Then, as the minister held out the bread, the +squire seemed to recover himself; he put out his fingers quickly, took +the bread sharply and put it into his mouth; and so sat again, until the +minister brought the cup; and this, too, he drank of quickly, and gave +it back. + +Then, as the communicants, one by one, took the bread and wine and went +back to their seats, man after man glanced up at the squire. + +But the squire sat there, motionless and upright, like a figure cut of +stone. + + +IV + +The court of the manor seemed deserted half an hour before dinner-time. +There was a Sabbath stillness in the air to-day, sweetened, as it were, +by the bubbling of bird-music in the pleasaunce behind the hall and the +high woods beyond. On the strips of rough turf before the gate and +within it bloomed the spring flowers, white and blue. A hound lay +stretched in the sunshine on the hall steps; twitching his ears to keep +off a persistent fly. You would have sworn that his was the only +intelligence in the place. Yet at the sound of the iron latch of the +gate and the squire's footsteps on the stones, the place, so to say, +became alive, though in a furtive and secret manner. Over the half door +of the stable entrance on the left two faces appeared--one, which was +Dick's, sullen and angry, the other, that of a stable-boy, inquiring and +frankly interested. This second vanished again as the squire came +forward. A figure of a kitchen-boy, in a white apron, showed in the dark +doorway that led to the kitchen and hall, and disappeared again +instantly. From two or three upper windows faces peeped and remained +fascinated. Only the old hound remained still, twitching his ears. + +All this--though there was nothing to be seen but the familiar personage +of the place, in his hat and cloak and sword, walking through his own +court on his way to dinner, as he had walked a thousand times before. +And yet so great was the significance of his coming to-day, that the +very gate behind him was pushed open by sightseers, who had followed at +a safe distance up the path from the church; half a dozen stood there +staring, and behind them, at intervals, a score more, spread out in +groups, all the way down to the porter's lodge. + +The most remarkable feature of all was the silence. Not a voice there +spoke, even in a whisper. The maids at the windows above, Dick glowering +over the half door, the little group which, far back in the kitchen +entrance, peeped and rustled, the men at the gate behind, even the boys +in the path--all these held their tongues for interest and a kind of +fear. Drama was in the air--the tragedy of seeing the squire come back +from church for the first time, bearing himself as he always did, +resolute and sturdy, yet changed in his significance after a fashion of +which none of these simple hearts had ever dreamed. + +So, again in silence, he went up the court, knowing that eyes were upon +him, yet showing no sign that he knew it; he went up the steps with the +same assured air, and disappeared into the hall. + + * * * * * + +Then the spell broke up and the bustle began, for it was only half an +hour to dinner and guests were coming. First Dick came out, slashing to +the door behind him, and strode out to the gate. He was still in his +boots, for he had ridden to Padley and back since early morning with a +couple of the maids and the stable-boy. He went to the gate of the +court, the group dissolving as he came, and shut it in their faces. A +noise of talking came out of the kitchen windows and the clash of a +saucepan: the maids' heads vanished from the upper windows. + +Even as Dick shut the gate he heard the sound of horses' hoofs down by +the porter's lodge. The justices were coming--the two whose names he had +heard with amazement last week, as the last corroboration of the +incredible rumour of his master's defection. For these were a couple of +magistrates--harmless men, indeed, as regarded their hostility to the +old Faith--yet Protestants who had sat more than once on the bench in +Derby to hear cases of recusancy. Old Mrs. Marpleden had told him they +were to come, and that provision must be made for their horses--Mrs. +Marpleden, the ancient housekeeper of the manor, who had gone to school +for a while with the Benedictine nuns of Derby in King Henry's days. She +had shaken her head and eyed him, and then had suffered three or four +tears to fall down her old cheeks. + +Well, they were coming, so Dick must open the gate again, and pull the +bell for the servants; and this he did, and waited, hat in hand. + +Up the little straight road they came, with a servant or two behind +them--the two harmless gentlemen, chattering as they rode; and Dick +loathed them in his heart. + +"The squire is within?" + +"Yes, sir." + +They dismounted, and Dick held their stirrups. + +"He has been to church--eh?" + +Dick made no answer. He feigned to be busy with one of the saddles. + +The magistrate glanced at him sharply. + + +V + +It was a strange dinner that day. + +Outwardly, again, all was as usual--as it might have been on any other +Sunday in spring. The three gentlemen sat at the high table, facing down +the hall; and, since there was no reading, and since it was a festival, +there was no lack of conversation. The servants came in as usual with +the dishes--there was roast lamb to-day, according to old usage, among +the rest; and three or four wines. A little fire burned against the +reredos, for cheerfulness rather than warmth, and the spring sunshine +flowed in through the clear-glass windows, bright and genial. + +Yet the difference was profound. Certainly there was no talk, overheard +at least by the servants, which might not have been on any Sunday for +the last twenty years: the congratulations and good wishes, or whatever +they were, must have been spoken between the three in the parlour before +dinner; and they spoke now of harmless usual things--news of the +countryside and tales from Derby; gossip of affairs of State; of her +Grace, who, in a manner unthinkable, even by now dominated the +imagination of England. None of these three had ever seen her; the +squire had been to London but once in his life, his two guests never. +Yet they talked of her, of her state-craft, of her romanticism; they +told little tales, one to the other, as if she lived in the county town. +All this, then, was harmless enough. Religion was not mentioned in the +hearing of the servants, neither the old nor the new; they talked, all +three of them, and the squire loudest of all, though with pauses of +pregnant silence, of such things as children might have heard without +dismay. + +Yet to the servants who came and went, it was as if their master were +another man altogether, and his hall some unknown place. There was no +blessing of himself before meat; he said something, indeed, before he +sat down, but it was unintelligible, and he made no movement with his +hand. But it was deeper than this ... and his men who had served him for +ten or fifteen years looked on him as upon a stranger or a changeling. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +The same Easter Day at Padley was another matter altogether. + +As early as five o'clock in the morning the house was astir: lights +glimmered in upper rooms; footsteps passed along corridors and across +the court; parties began to arrive. All was done without ostentation, +yet without concealment, for Padley was a solitary place, and had no +fear, at this time, of a sudden descent of the authorities. For form's +sake--scarcely for more--a man kept watch over the valley road, and +signalled by the flashing of a lamp twice every party with which he was +acquainted, and there were no others than these to signal. A second man +waited by the gate into the court to admit them. They rode and walked in +from all round--great gentlemen, such as the North Lees family, came +with a small retinue; a few came alone; yeomen and farm servants, with +their women-folk, from the Hathersage valley, came for the most part on +foot. Altogether perhaps a hundred and twenty persons were within Padley +Manor--and the gate secured--by six o'clock. + +Meanwhile, within, the priest had been busy since half-past four with +the hearing of confessions. He sat in the chapel beside the undecked +altar, and they came to him one by one. The household and a few of the +nearer neighbours had done their duty in this matter the day before, and +a good number had already made their Easter duties earlier in Lent; so +by six o'clock all was finished. + +Then began the bustle. + +A group of ladies, FitzHerberts and Fentons, entered, so soon as the +priest gave the signal by tapping on the parlour wall, bearing all +things necessary for the altar; and it was astonishing what fine things +these were; so that by the time that the priest was ready to vest, the +place was transformed. Stuffs and embroideries hung upon the wall about +the altar, making it seem, indeed, a sanctuary; two tall silver +candlesticks, used for no other purpose, stood upon the linen cloths, +under which rested the slate altar-stone, taken, with the sacred vessels +and the vestments, from one of the privy hiding-holes, with whose secret +not a living being without the house, and not more than two or three +within, was acquainted. It was rumored that half a dozen such places had +been contrived within the precincts, two of which were great enough to +hold two or three men at a pinch. + + * * * * * + +Soon after six o'clock, then, the altar was ready and the priest stood +vested. He retired a pace from the altar, signed himself with the cross, +and with Mr. John FitzHerbert and his son Thomas on either side of him, +began the preparation.... + +It was a strange and an inspiriting sight that the young priest (for it +was Mr. Simpson who was saying the mass) looked upon as he turned round +after the gospel to make his little sermon. From end to end the tiny +chapel was full, packed so that few could kneel and none sit down. The +two doors were open, and here two faces peered in; and behind, rank +after rank down the steps and along the little passage, the folk stood +or knelt, out of sight of both priest and altar, and almost out of +sound. The sanctuary was full of children--whose round-eyed, solemn +faces looked up at him--children who knew little or nothing of what was +passing, except that they were there to worship God, but who, for all +that, received impressions and associations that could never thereafter +wholly leave them. The chapel was still completely dark, for the faint +light of dawn was excluded by the heavy hangings over the windows; and +there was but the light of the two tapers to show the people to one +another and the priest to them all. + +It was an inspiriting sight to him then--and one which well rewarded him +for his labours, since there was not a class from gentlemen to labourers +who was not represented there. The FitzHerberts, the Babingtons, the +Fentons--these, with their servants and guests, accounted for perhaps +half of the folk. From the shadow by the door peeped out the faces of +John Merton and his wife and son; beneath the window was the solemn face +of Mr. Manners the lawyer, with his daughter beside him, Robin Audrey +beside her, and Dick his servant behind him. Surely, thought the young +priest, the Faith could not be in its final decay, with such a gathering +as this. + +His little sermon was plain enough for the most foolish there. He spoke +of Christ's Resurrection; of how death had no power to hold Him, nor +pains nor prison to detain Him; and he spoke, too, of that mystical life +of His which He yet lived in His body, which was the Church; of how +Death, too, stretched forth his hands against Him there, and yet had no +more force to hold Him than in His natural life lived on earth near +sixteen hundred years ago; how a Resurrection awaited Him here in +England as in Jerusalem, if His friends would be constant and +courageous, not faithless, but believing. + +"Even here," he said, "in this upper chamber, where we are gathered for +fear of the Jews, comes Jesus and stands in the midst, the doors being +shut. Upon this altar He will be presently, the Lamb slain yet the Lamb +victorious, to give us all that peace which the world can neither give +nor take away." + +And he added a few words of exhortation and encouragement, bidding them +fear nothing whatever might come upon them in the future; to hold fast +to the faith once delivered to the saints, and so to attain the heavenly +crown. He was not eloquent, for he was but a young man newly come from +college, with no great gifts. Yet not a soul there looked upon him, on +his innocent, wondering eyes and his quivering lips, but was moved by +what he saw and heard. + +The priest signed himself with the cross, and turned again to continue +the mass. + + +II + +"You tell me, then," said the girl quietly, "that all is as it was with +you? God has told you nothing?" + +Robin was silent. + + * * * * * + +Mass had been done an hour or more, and for the most part the company +was dispersed again, after refreshment spread in the hall, except for +those who were to stay to dinner, and these two had slipped away at last +to talk together in the woods; for the court was still filled with +servants coming and going, and the parlours occupied. In one the ladies +were still busy with the altar furniture; in the other the priest sat to +talk in private with those who were come from a distance; and as for the +hall--this, too, was in the hands of the servants, since not less than +thirty gentle folk were to dine there that day. + +Robin had come to Booth's Edge at the beginning of Passion week, and had +been there ever since. He had refrained, at Marjorie's entreaty, from +speaking of her to her parents; and they, too, ruled by their daughter, +had held their tongues on the matter. Everything else, however, had +been discussed--the effect of the squire's apostasy, the alternatives +that presented themselves to the boy, the future behaviour of him to his +father--all these things had been spoken of; and even the priest called +into council during the last two or three days. Yet not much had come of +it. If the worst came to the worst, the lawyer had offered the boy a +place in his office; Anthony Babington had proposed his coming to +Dethick if his father turned him out; while Robin himself inclined to a +third alternative--the begging of his father to give him a sum of money +and be rid of him; after which he proposed, with youthful vagueness, to +set off for London and see what he could do there. + +Marjorie, however, had seemed strangely uninterested in such proposals. +She had listened with patience, bowing her head in assent to each, +beginning once or twice a word of criticism, and stopping herself before +she had well begun. But she had looked at Robin with more than interest; +and her mother had found her more than once on her knees in her own +chamber, in tears. Yet she had said nothing, except that she would speak +her mind after Easter, perhaps. + +And now, it seemed, she was doing it. + + * * * * * + +"You have had no other thought?" she said again, "besides those of which +you talked with my father?" + +They were walking together through the woods, half a mile along the +Hathersage valley. Beneath them the ground fell steeply away, above them +it rose as steeply to the right. Underfoot the new life of spring was +bourgeoning in mould and grass and undergrowth; for the heather did not +come down so far as this; and the daffodils and celandine and wild +hyacinth lay in carpets of yellow and blue, infinitely sweet, beneath +the shadow of the trees and in the open sunshine. (It was at this time +that the squire of Matstead was entering the church and hearing of the +promises of the Lord to the sinner who forsook his sinful ways.) + +"I have had other thoughts," said the boy slowly, "but they are so wild +and foolish that I have determined to think no more of them." + +"You are determined?" + +He bowed his head. + +"You are sure, then, that they are not from God?" asked the girl, torn +between fear and hope. He was silent; and her heart sank again. + +He looked, indeed, a bewildered boy, borne down by a weight that was too +heavy for his years. He walked with his hands behind his back, his +hatless head bowed, regarding his feet and the last year's leaves on +which he walked. A cuckoo across the valley called with the insistence +of one who will be answered. + +"My Robin," said the girl, "the last thing I would have you do is to +tell me what you would not.... Will you not speak to the priest about +it?" + +"I have spoken to the priest." + +"Yes?" + +"He tells me he does not know what to think." + +"Would you do this thing--whatever it may be--if the priest told you it +was God's will?" + +There was a pause; and then: + +"I do not know," said Robin, so low she could scarcely hear him. + +She drew a deep breath to reassure herself. + +"Listen!" she said. "I must say a little of what I think; but not all. +Our Lord must finish it to you, if it is according to His will." + +He glanced at her swiftly, and down again, like a frightened child. Yet +even in that glance he could see that it was all that she could do to +force herself to speak; and by that look he understood for the first +time something of that which she was suffering. + +"You know first," she said, "that I am promised to you. I hold that +promise as sacred as anything on earth can be." + +Her voice shook a little. The boy bowed his head again. She went on: + +"But there are some things," she said, "more sacred than anything on +earth--those things that come from heaven. Now, I wish to say this--and +then have done with it: that if such should be God's will, I would not +hold you for a day. We are Catholics, you and I.... Your father--" + +Her voice broke; and she stopped; yet without leaving go of her hold +upon herself. Only she could not speak for a moment. + +Then a great fury seized on the boy. It was one of those angers that for +a while poison the air and turn all things sour; yet without obscuring +the mind--an anger in which the angry one strikes first at that which he +loves most, because he loves it most, knowing, too, that the words he +speaks are false. For this, for the present, was the breaking-point in +the lad. He had suffered torments in his soul, ever since the hour in +which he had ridden into the gate of his own home after his talk in the +empty chapel; he had striven to put away from him that idea for which +the girl's words had broken an entrance into his heart. And now she +would give him no peace; she continued to press on him from without that +which already pained him within; so he turned on her. + +"You wish to be rid of me!" he cried fiercely. + +She looked at him with her lips parted, her eyes astonished, and her +face gone white. + +"What did you say?" she said. + +His conscience pierced him like a sword. Yet he set his teeth. + +"You wish to be rid of me. You are urging me to leave you. You talk to +me of God's will and God's voice, and you have no pity on me at all. It +is an excuse--a blind." + +He stood raging. The very fact that he knew every word to be false made +his energy the greater; for he could not have said it otherwise. + +"You think that!" she whispered. + +There, then, they stood, eyeing one another. A stranger, coming suddenly +upon them, would have said it was a lovers' tiff, and have laughed at +it. Yet it was a deeper matter than that. + +Then there surged over the boy a wave of shame; and the truth prevailed. +His fair face went scarlet; and his eyes filled with tears. He dropped +on his knees in the leaves, seized her hand and kissed it. + +"Oh! you must forgive me," he said. "But ... but I cannot do it!" + + +III + +It was a great occasion in the hall that Easter Day. The three tables, +which, according to custom, ran along the walls, were filled to-day with +guests; and a second dinner was to follow, scarcely less splendid than +the first, for their servants as well as for those of the household. The +floor was spread with new rushes; jugs of March beer, a full month old, +as it should be, were ranged down the tables; and by every plate lay a +posy of flowers. From the passage outside came the sound of music. + +The feast began with the reading of the Gospel; at the close, Mr. John +struck with his hand upon the table as a signal for conversation; the +doors opened; the servants came in, and a babble of talk broke out. At +the high table the master of the house presided, with the priest on his +right, Mrs. Manners and Marjorie beyond him; on his left, Mrs. Fenton +and her lord. At the other two tables Mr. Thomas presided at one and Mr. +Babington at the other. + +The talk was, of course, within the bounds of discretion; though once +and again sentences were spoken which would scarcely have pleased the +minister of the parish. For they were difficult times in which they +lived; and it is no wonder at all if bitterness mixed itself with +charity. Here was Mr. John, for instance, come to Padley expressly for +the selling of some meadows to meet his fines; here was his son Thomas, +the heir now, not only to Padley, but to Norbury, whose lord, his uncle, +lay in the Fleet Prison. Here was Mr. Fenton, who had suffered the like +in the matter of fines more than once. Hardly one of the folk there but +had paid a heavy price for his conscience; and all the worship that was +permitted to them, and that by circumstance, and not by law, was such as +they had engaged in that morning with shuttered windows and a sentinel +for fear that, too, should be silenced. + +They talked, then, guardedly of those things, since the servants were in +and out continually, and though all professed the same faith as their +masters, yet these were times that tried loyalty hard. Mr. John, indeed, +gave news, of his brother Sir Thomas, and said how he did; and read a +letter, too, from Italy, from his younger brother Nicholas, who was fled +abroad after a year's prison at Oxford; but the climax of the talk came +when dinner was over, and the muscadel, with the mould-jellies, had been +put upon the tables. It was at this moment that Mr. John nodded to his +son, who went to the door, to see the servants out, and stood by it to +see that none listened. Then his father struck his hands together for +silence, and himself spoke. + +"Mr. Simpson," he said, "has something to say to us all. It is not a +matter to be spoken of lightly, as you will understand presently.... Mr. +Simpson." + +The priest looked up timidly, pulling out a paper from his pocket. + +"You have heard of Mr. Nelson?" he said to the company. "Well, he was a +priest; and I have news of his death. He was executed in London on the +third of February for his religion. And another man, a Mr. Sherwood, was +executed a few days afterwards." + +There was a rustle along the benches. Some there had heard of the fact, +but no more; some had heard nothing of either the man or his death. Two +or three faces turned a shade paler; and then the silence settled down +again. For here was a matter that touched them all closely enough; since +up to now scarcely a priest except Mr. Cuthbert Maine had suffered death +for his religion; and even of him some of the more tolerant said that it +was treason with which he was charged. They had heard, indeed, of a +priest or two having been sent abroad into exile for his faith; but the +most of them thought it a thing incredible that in England at this time +a man should suffer death for it. Fines and imprisonment were one thing; +to such they had become almost accustomed. But death was another matter +altogether. And for a priest! Was it possible that the days of King +Harry were coming back; and that every Catholic henceforth should go in +peril of his life as well as of liberty? + +The folks settled themselves then in their seats; one or two men drank +off a glass of wine. + +"I have heard from a good friend of mine in London," went on the priest, +looking at his paper, "one who followed every step of the trial; and +was present at the death. They suffered at Tyburn.... However, I will +tell you what he says. He is a countryman of mine, from Yorkshire; as +was Mr. Nelson, too. + +"'Mr. Nelson was taken in London on the first of December last year. He +was born at Shelton, and was about forty-three years old; he was the son +of Sir Nicholas Nelson.' + +"So much," said the priest, looking up from his paper, "I knew myself. I +saw him about four years ago just before he went to Douay, and he came +back to England as a priest, a year and a half after. Mr. Sherwood was +not a priest; he had been at Douay, too, but as a scholar only.... Well, +we will speak of Mr. Nelson first. This is what my friend says." + +He spread the paper before him on the table; and Marjorie, looking past +her mother, saw that his hands shook as he spread it. + +"'Mr. Nelson,'" began the priest, reading aloud with some difficulty, +"'was brought before my lords, and first had tendered to him the oath of +the Queen's supremacy. This he refused to take, saying that no lay +prince could have pre-eminence over Christ's Church; and, upon being +pressed as to who then could have it, answered, Christ's Vicar only, the +successor of Peter. Further, he proceeded to say, under questioning, +that since the religion of England at this time is schismatic and +heretical, so also is the Queen's Grace who is head of it. + +"'This, then, was what was wanted; and after a delay of a few weeks, the +same questions being put to him, and his answers being the same, he was +sentenced to death. He was very fortunate in his imprisonment. I had +speech with him two or three times and was the means, by God's blessing, +of bringing another priest to him, to whom he confessed himself; and +with whom he received the Body of Christ a day before he suffered. + +"'On the third of February, knowing nothing of his death being so near, +he was brought up to a higher part of the prison, and there told he was +to suffer that day. His kinsmen were admitted to him then, to bid him +farewell; and afterwards two ministers came to turn him from his faith +if they could; but they prevailed nothing.'" + +There was a pause in the reading; but there was no movement among any +that listened. Robin, watching from his place at the right-hand table, +cold at heart, ran his eyes along the faces. The priest was as white as +death, with the excitement, it seemed, of having to tell such a tale. +His host beside him seemed downcast and quiet, but perfectly composed. +Mrs. Manners had her eyes closed; Anthony Babington was frowning to +himself with tight lips; Marjorie he could not see. + +With a great effort the reader resumed: + +"'When he was laid on the hurdle he refused to ask pardon of the Queen's +Grace; for, said he, I have never yet offended her. I was beside him, +and heard it. And he added, when those who stood near stormed at him, +that it was better to be hanged than to burn in hell-fire. + +"'There was a great concourse of people at Tyburn, but kept back by the +officers so that they could not come at him. When he was in the cart, +first he commended his spirit into God's Hands, saying _In manus tuas_, +etc.; then he besought all Catholics that were present to pray for him; +I saw a good many who signed themselves in the crowd; and then he said +some prayers in Latin; with the psalms _Miserere_ and _De Profundis_. +And then he addressed himself to the people, telling them he died for +his religion, which was the Catholic Roman one, and prayed, and desired +them to pray, that God would bring all Englishmen into it. The crowd +cried out at that, exclaiming against this _Catholic Romish Faith_; and +so he said what he had to say, over again. Then, before the cart was +drawn away from him to leave him to hang, he asked pardon of all them he +had offended, and even of the Queen, if he had indeed offended her. Then +one of the sheriffs called on the hangman to make an end; so Mr. Nelson +prayed again in silence, and then begged all Catholics that were there +once more to pray that, by the bitter passion of Christ, his soul might +be received into everlasting joy. And they did so; for as the cart was +drawn away a great number cried out, and I with them, _Lord, receive his +soul_. + +"'He was cut down, according to sentence, before he was dead, and the +butchery begun on him; and when it was near over, he moved a little in +his pain, and said that he forgave the Queen and all that caused or +consented to his death: and so he died.'" + +The priest's voice, which had shaken again and again, grew so tremulous +as he ended that those that were at the end of the hall could scarcely +hear him; and, as it ceased, a murmur ran along the seats. + +Mr. FitzHerbert leaned over to the priest and whispered. The priest +nodded, and the other held up his hand for silence. + +"There is more yet," he said. + +Mr. Simpson, with a hand that still shook so violently that he could +hardly hold his glass, lifted and drank off a cup of muscadel. Then he +cleared his throat, sat up a little in his chair, and resumed: + +"'Next I went to see Mr. Sherwood, to talk to him in prison and to +encourage him by telling him of the passion of the other and how bravely +he bore it. Mr. Sherwood took it very well, and said that he was afraid +of nothing, that he had reconciled his mind to it long ago, and had +rehearsed it all two or three times, so that he would know what to say +and how to bear himself.'" + +Mr. FitzHerbert leaned over again to the priest at this point and +whispered something. Mr. Simpson nodded, and raised his eyes. + +"Mr. Sherwood," he said, "was a scholar from Douay, but not a priest. He +was lodging in the house of a Catholic lady, and had procured mass to be +said there, and it was through her son that he was taken and charged +with recusancy." + +Again ran a rustle through the benches. This executing of the laity for +religion was a new thing in their experience. The priest lifted the +paper again. + +"'I found that Mr. Sherwood had been racked many times in the Tower, +during the six months he was in prison, to force him to tell, if they +could, where he had heard mass and who had said it. But they could +prevail nothing. Further, no visitor was admitted to him all this time, +and I was the first and the last that he had; and that though Mr. Roper +himself had tried to get at him for his relief; for he was confined +underground and lay in chains and filth not to be described. I said what +I could to him, but he said he needed nothing and was content, though +his pain must have been very great all this while, what with the racking +repeated over and over again and the place he lay in. + +"'I was present again when he suffered at Tyburn, but was too far away +to hear anything that he said, and scarcely, indeed, could see him; but +I learned afterwards that he died well and courageously, as a Catholic +should, and made no outcry or complaint when the butchery was done on +him. + +"'This, then, is the news I have to send you--sorrowful, indeed, yet +joyful, too; for surely we may think that they who bore such pains for +Christ's sake with such constancy will intercede for us whom they leave +behind. I am hoping myself to come North again before I go to Douay next +year, and will see you then and tell you more.'" + +The priest laid down the paper, trembling. + +Mr. FitzHerbert looked up. + +"It will give pleasure to the company," he said, "to know that the +writer of the letter is Mr. Ludlam, from Radbourne, in this county. As +you have heard, he, too, hopes by God's mercy to be made priest and to +come back to England." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +In the following week Robin went home again. + +The clear weather of Easter had broken, and racing clouds, thick as a +pall, sped across the sky that had been so blue and so cheerful; a wind +screamed all day, now high, now low, shattering the tender flowers of +spring, ruffling the Derwent against its current, by which he rode, and +dashing spatters of rain now and again on his back, tossing high and +wide the branches under which he went, until the woods themselves became +as a great melancholy organ, making sad music about him. + +When a mind is fluent and uncertain there is no describing it. He +thought he had come to a decision last week; he found that the decision +was shattered as soon as made. He had talked to the priest; he had +resisted Marjorie; and yet to neither of them had he put into formal +words what it was that troubled him. He had asked questions about +vocation, about the place that circumstance occupies in it, of the value +of dispositions, fears, scruples, and resistance. He had, that is, +fingered his wound, half uncovered it, and then covered it up again, +tormented it, glanced at it and then glanced aside; yet the one thing he +had not done was to probe it--not even to allow another to do so. + +His mind, then, was fluent and distracted; it formed images before him, +which dissolved as soon as formed; it whirled in little eddies; it threw +up obscuring foam; it ran clear one instant, and the next broke itself +in rapids. He could neither ease it, nor dam it altogether, and he did +not know what to do. + +As he rode through Froggatt, he saw a group of saddle-horses standing +at the inn door, but thought nothing of it, till a man ran out of the +door, still holding his pot, and saluted him, and he recognised him to +be one of Mr. Babington's men. + +"My master is within, sir," he said; "he bade me look out for you." + +Robin drew rein, and as he did so, Anthony, too, came out. + +"Ah!" he said. "I heard you would be coming this way. Will you come in? +I have something to say to you." + +Robin slipped off, leaving his mare in the hands of Anthony's man, since +he himself was riding alone, with his valise strapped on behind. + +It was a little room, very trim and well kept, on the first floor, to +which his friend led him. Anthony shut the door carefully and came +across to the settle by the window-seat. + +"Well," he said, "I have bad news for you, my friend. Will you forgive +me? I have seen your father and had words with him." + +"Eh?" + +"I said nothing to you before," went on the other, sitting down beside +him. "I knew you would not have it so, but I went to see for myself and +to put a question or two. He is your father, but he has also been my +friend. That gives me rights, you see!" + +"Tell me," said Robin heavily. + +It appeared that Anthony, who was a precise as well as an ardent young +man, had had scruples about trusting to hearsay. Certainly it was +rumoured far and wide that the squire of Matstead had done as he had +said he would do, and gone to church; but Mr. Anthony was one of those +spirits who will always have things, as they say, from the +fountain-head; partly from instincts of justice, partly, no doubt, for +the pleasure of making direct observations to the principals concerned. +This was what he had done in this case. He had ridden, without a word to +any, up to Matstead, and had demanded to be led to the squire; and there +and then, refusing to sit down till he was answered, had put his +question. There had been a scene. The squire had referred to puppies who +wanted drowning, to young sparks, and to such illustrative similes; and +Anthony, in spite of his youthful years, had flared out about turncoats +and lick-spittles. There had been a very pretty ending: the squire had +shouted for his servants and Anthony for his, and the two parties had +eyed one another, growling like dogs, until bloodshed seemed imminent. +Then the visitor had himself solved the situation by stalking out of the +house from which the squire was proposing to flog him, mounting his +horse, and with a last compliment or two had ridden away. And here he +was at Froggatt on his return journey, having eaten there that dinner +which no longer would be spread for him at Matstead. + +Robin sat silent till the tale was done, and at the end of it Anthony +was striding about the room, aflame again with wrath, gesticulating and +raging aloud. + +Then Robin spoke, holding up his hand for moderation. "You will have the +whole house here," he said. "Well, you have cooked my goose for me." + +"Bah! that was cooked at Passiontide when you went to Booth's Edge. Do +you think he'll ever have a Papist in his house again?" + +"Did he say so?" + +"No; but he said enough about his 'young cub.'... Nonsense, man! Come +home with me to Dethick. We'll find occupation enough." + +"Did he say he would not have me home again?" + +"No," bawled Anthony. "I have told you he did not say so outright. But +he said enough to show he'd have no rebels, as he called them, in his +Protestant house! Dick's to leave. Did you hear that?" + +"Dick!" + +"Why, certainly. There was a to-do on Sunday, and Dick spoke his mind. +He'll come to me, he says, if you have no service for him." + +Robin set his teeth. It seemed as if the pelting blows would never +cease. + +"Come with me to Dethick!" said Anthony again. "I tell you--" + +"Well?" + +"There'll be time enough to tell you when you come. But I promise you +occupation enough." + +He paused, as if he would say more and dared not. + +"You must tell me more," said the lad slowly. "What kind of occupation?" + +Then Anthony did a queer thing. He first glanced at the door, and then +went to it quickly and threw it open. The little lobby was empty. He +went out, leaned over the stair and called one of his men. + +"Sit you there," he said, with the glorious nonchalance of a Babington, +"and let no man by till I tell you." + +He came back, closed the door, bolted it, and then came across and sat +down by his friend. + +"Do you think the rest of us are doing nothing?" he whispered. "Why, I +tell you that a dozen of us in Derbyshire--" He broke off once more. "I +may not tell you," he said, "I must ask leave first." + +A light began to glimmer before Robin's mind; the light broadened +suddenly and intensely, and his whole soul leapt to meet it. + +"Do you mean--?" And then he, too, broke off, well knowing enough, +though not all of, what was meant. + + * * * * * + +It was quiet here within this room, in spite of the village street +outside. It was dinner-time, and all were within doors or out at their +affairs; and except for the stamp of a horse now and again, and the +scream of the wind in the keyhole and between the windows, there was +little to hear. And in the lad's soul was a tempest. + +He knew well enough now what his friend meant, though nothing of the +details; and from the secrecy and excitement of the young man's manner +he understood what the character of his dealings would likely be, and +towards those dealings his whole nature leaped as a fish to the water. +Was it possible that this way lay the escape from his own torment of +conscience? Yet he must put a question first, in honesty. + +"Tell me this much," he said in a low voice. "Do you mean that this ... +this affair will be against men's lives ... or ... or such as even a +priest might engage in?" + +Then the light of fanaticism leaped to the eyes of his friend, and his +face brightened wonderfully. + +"Do they observe the courtesies and forms of law?" he snarled. "Did +Nelson die by God's law, or did Sherwood--those we know of? I will tell +you this," he said, "and no more unless you pledge yourself to us ... +that we count it as warfare--in Christ's Name yes--but warfare for all +that." + + * * * * * + +There then lay the choice before this lad, and surely it was as hard a +choice as ever a man had to make. On the one side lay such an excitement +as he had never yet known--for Anthony was no merely mad fool--a path, +too, that gave him hopes of Marjorie, that gave him an escape from home +without any more ado, a task besides which he could tell himself +honestly was, at least, for the cause that lay so near to Marjorie's +heart, and was beginning to lie near his own. And on the other there was +open to him that against which he had fought now day after day, in +misery--a life that had no single attraction to the natural man in him, +a life that meant the loss of Marjorie for ever. + +The colour died from his lips as he considered this. Surely all lay +Anthony's way: Anthony was a gentleman like himself; he would do nothing +that was not worthy of one.... What he had said of warfare was surely +sound logic. Were they not already at war? Had not the Queen declared +it? And on the other side--nothing. Nothing. Except that a voice within +him on that other side cried louder and louder--it seemed in despair: +"This is the way; walk in it." + +"Come," whispered Anthony again. + +Robin stood up; he made as if to speak; then he silenced himself and +began to walk to and fro in the little room. He could hear voices from +the room beneath--Anthony's men talking there no doubt. They might be +his men, too, at the lifting of a finger--they and Dick. There were the +horses waiting without; he heard the jingle of a bit as one tossed his +head. Those were the horses that would go back to Dethick and Derby, +and, may be, half over England. + +He walked to and fro half a dozen times without speaking, and, if he had +but guessed it, he might have been comforted to know that his manhood +flowed in upon him, as a tide coming in over a flat beach. These +instants added more years to him than as many months that had gone +before. His boyhood was passing, since experience and conflict, whether +it end in victory or defeat, give the years to a man far more than the +passing of time. So in God's sight Robin added many inches to the +stature of his spirit in this little parlour of Froggatt. + +Yet, though he conquered then, he did not know that he conquered. He +still believed, as he turned at last and faced his friend, that his mind +was yet to make up, and his whisper was harsh and broken. + +"I do not know," he whispered. "I must go home first." + + +II + +Dick was waiting by the porter's lodge as the boy rode in, and walked up +beside him with his brown hand on the horse's shoulder. Robin could not +say much, and, besides, his confidence must be tied. + +"So you are going," he said softly. + +The man nodded. + +"I met Mr. Babington.... You cannot do better, I think, than go to him." + + * * * * * + +It was with a miserable heart that an hour or two later he came down to +supper. His father was already at table, sitting grimly in his place; he +made no sign of welcome or recognition as his son came in. During the +meal itself this was of no great consequence, as silence was the custom; +but the boy's heart sank yet further as, still without a word to him, +the squire rose from table at the end and went as usual through the +parlour door. He hesitated a moment before following. Then he grasped +his courage and went after. + +All things were as usual there--the wine set out and the sweetmeats, and +his father in his usual place, Yet still there was silence. + +Robin began to meditate again, yet alert for a sign or a word. It was +in this little room, he understood, that the dispute with Anthony had +taken place a few hours before, and he looked round it, almost wondering +that all seemed so peaceful. It was this room, too, that was associated +with so much that was happy in his life--drawn-out hours after supper, +when his father was in genial moods, or when company was there--company +that would never come again--and laughter and gallant talk went round. +There was the fire burning in the new stove--that which had so much +excited him only a year or two ago, for it was then the first that he +had ever seen: there was the table where he had written his little +letter; there was "Christ carrying His Cross." + +"So you have sent your friend to insult me; now!" + +Robin started. The voice was quiet enough, but full of a suppressed +force. + +"I have not, sir. I met Mr. Babington at Froggatt on his way back. He +told me. I am very sorry for it." + +"And you talked with him at Padley, too, no doubt?" + +"Yes, sir." + +His father suddenly wheeled round on him. + +"Do you think I have no sense, then? Do you think I do not know what you +and your friends speak of?" + +Robin was silent. + +He was astonished how little afraid he was. His heart beat loud enough +in his ears; yet he felt none of that helplessness that had fallen on +him before when his father was angry.... Certainly he had added to his +stature in the parlour at Froggatt. + +The old man poured out a glass of wine and drank it. His face was +flushed high, and he was using more words than usual. + +"Well, sir, there are other affairs we must speak of; and then no more +of them. I wish to know your meaning for the time to come. There must be +no more fooling this way and that. I shall pay no fines for you--mark +that! If you must stand on your own feet, stand on them.... Now then!" + +"Do you mean, am I coming to church with you, sir?" + +"I mean, who is to pay your fines?... Miss Marjorie?" + +Robin set his teeth at the sneer. + +"I have not yet been fined, sir." + +"Now do you take me for a fool? D'you think they'll let you off? I was +speaking--" + +The old man stopped. + +"Yes, sir?" + +The other wheeled his face on him. + +"If you will have it," he said, "I was speaking to my two good friends +who dined here on Sunday. I was plain with them and they were plain with +me. 'I shall not pay for my brat of a son,' I said. 'Then he must pay +for himself,' said they, 'unless we lay him by the heels.' 'Not in my +house, I hope,' I said; and they laughed at that. We were very merry +together." + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Good God! have I a fool for a son? I ask you again, Who is it to pay?" + +"When will they demand it?" + +"Why, they may demand it next week, if they will! You were not at church +on Sunday!" + +"I was not in Matstead," said the lad. + +"But--" + +"And Mr. Barton will not, I think--" + +The old man struck the table suddenly and violently. + +"I have dropped words enough," he cried. "Where's the use of it? If you +think they will let you alone, I tell you they will not. There are to be +doings before Christmas, at latest; and what then?" + +Then Robin drew his breath sharply between his teeth; and knew that one +more step had been passed, that had separated him from that which he +feared.... He had come just now, still hesitating. Still there had been +passing through his mind hopes and ideas of what his father might do for +him. He knew well enough that he would never pay the fines, amounting +sometimes to as much as twenty pounds a month; but he had thought that +perhaps his father would give him a sum of money and let him go to fend +for himself; that he might help him even to a situation somewhere; and +now hope had died so utterly that he did not even dare speak of it. And +he had said "No" to Anthony; he said to himself at least that he had +meant "No," in spite of his hesitation. All doors seemed closing, save +that which terrified him.... + +"I have thought in my mind--" he began; and stopped, for the terror of +what was on his tongue grew suddenly upon him. + +"Eh?" + +Robin stood up. + +"I must have time, sir," he cried; "I must have time. Do not press me +too much." + +His father's eyes shone bright and wrathful. He beat on the table with +his open hand; but the boy was too quick for him. + +"I beg of you, sir, not to make me speak too soon. It may be that you +would hate that I should speak more than my silence." + +His whole person was tense and magnetic; his face was paler than ever; +and it seemed as if his father understood enough, at least, to make him +hesitate. The two looked at one another; and it was the man's eyes that +tell first. + +"You may have till Pentecost," he said. + + +III + +It would be at about an hour before dawn that Robin awoke for perhaps +the third or fourth time that night; for the conflict still roared +within his soul and would give him no peace. And, as he lay there, awake +in an instant, staring up into the dark, once more weighing and +balancing this and the other, swayed by enthusiasm at one moment, +weighed down with melancholy the next--there came to him, distinct and +clear through the still night, the sound of horses' hoofs, perhaps of +three or four beasts, walking together. + +Now, whether it was the ferment of his own soul, or the work of some +interior influence, or indeed, the very intimation of God Himself, Robin +never knew (though he inclined later to the last of these); yet it +remains as a fact that when he heard that sound, so fierce was his +curiosity to know who it was that rode abroad in company at such an +hour, he threw off the blankets that covered him, went to his window and +threw it open. Further, when he had listened there a second or two, and +had heard the sound cease and then break out again clearer and nearer, +signifying that the party was riding through the village, his curiosity +grew so intense, that he turned from the window, snatched up and put on +a few clothes, groping for them as well as he could in the dimness, and +was presently speeding, barefooted, downstairs, telling himself in one +breath that he was a fool, and in the next that he must reach the +churchyard wall before the horses did. + +It was but a short run when he had come down into the court, by the +little staircase that led from the men's rooms; the ground was soaking +with the rains of yesterday, but he cared nothing for that; and, as the +riding party turned up the little ascent that led beneath the +churchyard, Robin, on the other side of the wall, was keeping between +the tombstones to see, and not be seen. + +It was within an hour of dawn, at that time when the sky begins to +glimmer with rifts above the two horizons, showing light enough at least +to distinguish faces. It was such a light as that in which he had seen +the deer looking at him motionless as he rode home with Dick. Yet the +three who now rode up towards him were so muffled about the faces that +he feared he would not know them. They were men, all three of them; and +he could make out valises strapped to the saddle of each; but, what +seemed strange, they did not speak as they came; and it appeared as if +they wished to make no more noise than was necessary, since one of them, +when his horse set his foot upon the cobblestones beside the lych-gate, +pulled him sharply off them. + +And then, just as they rounded the angle of the wall where the boy +crouched peeping, the man that rode in the middle, sighed as if with +relief, and pulled the cloak that was about him, so that the collar fell +from his face, and at the same time turned to his companion on his +right, and said something in a low voice. + +But the boy heard not a word; for he found himself staring at the +thin-faced young priest from whom he had received Holy Communion at +Padley. It was but for an instant; for the man to whom the priest spoke +answered in the same low voice, and the other pulled his cloak again +round his mouth. + +Yet the look was enough. The sight, once more, of this servant of God, +setting out again upon his perilous travels--seen at such a moment, when +the boy's judgment hung in the balance (as he thought); this one single +reminder of what a priest could do in these days of sorrow, and of what +God called on him to do--the vision, for it was scarcely less, all +things considered, of a life such as this--presented, so to say, in this +single scene of a furtive and secret ride before the dawn, leaving +Padley soon after midnight--this, falling on a soul that already leaned +that way, finished that for which Marjorie had prayed, and against which +the lad himself had fought so fiercely. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he stood by his father's bed, looking down on him +without fear. + +"Father," he said, as the old man stared up at him through sleep-ridden +eyes, "I have come to give you my answer. It is that I must go to Rheims +and be a priest." + +Then he turned again and went out of the room, without waiting. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +Mrs. Manners was still abed when her daughter came in to see her. She +lay in the great chamber that gave upon the gallery above the hall +whence, on either side, she could hear whether or no the maids were at +their business--which was a comfort to her if a discomfort to them. And +now that her lord was in Derby, she lay here all alone. + +The first that she knew of her daughter's coming was a light in her +eyes; and the next was a face, as of a stranger, looking at her with +great eyes, exalted by joy and pain. The light, held below, cast shadows +upwards from chin and cheek, and the eyes shone in hollows. Then, as she +sat up, she saw that it was her daughter, and that the maid held a paper +in her hands; she was in her night-linen, and a wrap lay over her +shoulders and shrouded her hair. + +"He is to be a priest," she whispered sharply. "Thank our Lord with me +... and ... and God have mercy on me!" + +Then Marjorie was on her knees by the bedside, sobbing so that the +curtains shook. + + * * * * * + +The mother got it all out of her presently--the tale of the girl's heart +torn two ways at once. On the one side there was her human love for the +lad who had wooed her--as hot as fire, and as pure--and on the other +that keen romance that had made her pray that he might be a priest. This +second desire had come to her, as sharp as a voice that calls, when she +had heard of the apostasy of his father; it had seemed to her the +riposte that God made to the assault upon His honour. The father would +no longer be His worshipper? Then let the son be His priest; and so the +balance be restored. And so the maid had striven with the two loves +that, for once, would not agree together (as did the man in the Gospels +who wished to go and bury his father and afterwards to follow his +Saviour); she had not dared to say a word to the lad of anything of this +lest it should be her will and not God's that should govern him, for she +knew very well what a power she had over him; but she had prayed God, +and begged Robin to pray too and to listen to His voice; and now she had +her way, and her heart was broken with it, she said: + +"And when I think," she wailed across her mother's knees, "of what it is +to be a priest; and of the life that he will lead, and of the death that +he may die!... And it is I ... I ... who will have sent him to it. +Mother!..." + +Mrs. Manners was bethinking herself of a cordial just then, and how she +knew old Ann would be coming presently, and was listening with but half +an ear. + +"It's not you, my dear," she said, patting the head beneath her hands. +(The wrap was fallen off, and the maid's long hair was all over her +shoulders.) "And now--" + +"But our Lord will take care of him, will He not? And not suffer--" + +Mrs. Manners fell to patting her head again. + +"And who brought the message?" she asked. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Manners was one of those experienced persons who are fully +persuaded that youth is a disease that must be borne with patiently. +Time, indeed, will cure it; yet until the cure is complete, elders must +bear it as well as they can and not seem to pay too much attention to +it. A rigorous and prudent diet; long hours of sleep, plenty of +occupation--these are the remedies for the fever. So, while Marjorie +first began to read the lad's letter, and then, breaking down +altogether, thrust it into her mother's hand, Mrs. Manners was searching +her memory as to whether any imprudence the day before, in food or +behaviour, could be the cause of this crisis. Love between boys and +girls was common enough; she herself twenty years ago had suffered from +the sickness when young John had come wooing her; yet a love that could +thrust from it that which it loved, was beyond her altogether. Either +Marjorie loved the lad, or she did not, and if she loved him, why did +she pray that he might be a priest? That was foolishness; since +priesthood was a bar to marriage. She began to conclude that Marjorie +did not love him; it had been but a romantic fancy; and she was +encouraged by the thought. + +"Madge," she began, when she had read through the confused line or two, +in the half-boyish, half-clerkly hand of Robin, scribbled and dispatched +by the hands of Dick scarcely two hours ago. "Madge--" + +She was about to say something sensible when the maid interrupted her +again. + +"And it is I who have brought it all on him!" she wailed. "If it had not +been for me--" + +Her mother laid a firm hand on her daughter's mouth. It was not often +that she felt the superior of the two; yet here was a time, plain +enough, when maturity and experience must take the reins. + +"Madge," she said, "it is plain you do not love him; or you never--" + +The maid started back, her eyes ablaze. + +"Not love him! Why--" + +"That you do not love him truly; or you would never have wished this for +him.... Now listen to me!" + +She raised an admonitory finger, complacent at last. But her speech was +not to be made at that time; for her daughter swiftly rose to her feet, +controlled at last by the shock of astonishment. + +"Then I do not think you know what love is," she said softly. "To love +is to wish the other's highest good, as I understand it." + +Mrs. Manners compressed her lips, as might a prophetess before a +prediction. But her daughter was beforehand with her again. + +"That is the love of a Christian, at least," she said. Then she stooped, +took the letter from her mother's knees, and went out. + +Mrs. Manners sat for a moment as her daughter left her. Then she +understood that her hour of superiority was gone with Marjorie's hour of +weakness; and she emitted a short laugh as she took her place again +behind the child she had borne. + + +II + +It was a strange time that Marjorie had until two days later, when Robin +came and told her all, and how it had fallen out. For now, it seemed, +she walked on air; now in shoes of lead. When she was at her prayers +(which was pretty often just now), and at other times, when the air +lightened suddenly about her and the burdens of earth were lifted as if +another hand were put to them--at those times which every interior soul +experiences in a period of stress--why, then, all was glory, and she saw +Robin as transfigured and herself beneath him all but adoring. Little +visions came and went before her imagination. Robin riding, like some +knight on an adventure, to do Christ's work; Robin at the altar, in his +vestments; Robin absolving penitents--all in a rosy light of faith and +romance. She saw him even on the scaffold, undaunted and resolute, with +God's light on his face, and the crowd awed beneath him; she saw his +soul entering heaven, with all the harps ringing to meet him, and +eternity begun.... And then, at other times, when the heaviness came +down on her, as clouds upon the Derbyshire hills, she understood nothing +but that she had lost him; that he was not to be hers, but Another's; +that a loveless and empty life lay before her, and a womanhood that was +without its fruition. And it was this latter mood that fell on her, +swift and entire, when, looking out from her window a little before +dinner-time, she saw suddenly his hat, and Cecily's head, jerking up the +steep path that led to the house. + +She fell on her knees by her bedside. + +"Jesu!" she cried. "Jesu! Give me strength to meet him." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Manners, too, hearing the horse's footsteps on the pavement a +minute later, and Marjorie's steps going downstairs, also looked forth +and saw him dismounting. She was a prudent woman, and did not stir a +finger till she heard the bell ringing in the court for the dinner to be +served. They would have time, so she thought, to arrange their +attitudes. + +And, indeed, she was right: for it was two quiet enough persons who met +her as she came down into the hall: Robin flushed with riding, yet +wholly under his own command--bright-eyed, and resolute and natural +(indeed, it seemed to her that he was more of a man than she had thought +him). And her daughter, too, was still and strong; a trifle paler than +she should be, yet that was to be expected. At dinner, of course, +nothing could be spoken of but the most ordinary affairs--in such +speaking, that is, as there was. It was not till they had gone out into +the walled garden and sat them down, all three of them, on the long +garden-seat beside the rose-beds, that a word was said on these new +matters. There was silence as they walked there, and silence as they sat +down. + +"Tell her, Robin," said the maid. + + * * * * * + +It appeared that matters were not yet as wholly decided as Mrs. Manners +had thought. Indeed, it seemed to her that they were not decided at all. +Robin had written to Dr. Allen, and had found means to convey his letter +to Mr. Simpson, who, in his turn, had undertaken to forward it at least +as far as to London; and there it would await a messenger to Douay. It +might be a month before it would reach Douay, and it might be three or +four months, or even more, before an answer could come back. Next, the +squire had taken a course of action which, plainly, had disconcerted the +lad, though it had its conveniences too. For, instead of increasing the +old man's fury, the news his son had given him had had a contrary +effect. He had seemed all shaken, said Robin; he had spoken to him +quietly, holding in the anger that surely must be there, the boy +thought, without difficulty. And the upshot of it was that no more had +been said as to Robin's leaving Matstead for the present--not one word +even about the fines. It seemed almost as if the old man had been trying +how far he could push his son, and had recoiled when he had learned the +effect of his pushing. + +"I think he is frightened," said the lad gravely. "He had never thought +that I could be a priest." + +Mrs. Manners considered this in silence. + +"And it may be autumn before Dr. Allen's letter comes back?" she asked +presently. + +Robin said that that was so. + +"It may even be till winter," he said. "The talk among the priests, Mr. +Simpson tells me, is all about the removal from Douay. It may be made at +any time, and who knows where they will go?" + +Mrs. Manners glanced across at her daughter, who sat motionless, with +her hands clasped. Then she was filled with the spirit of reasonableness +and sense: all this tragic to-do about what might never happen seemed to +her the height of folly. + +"Nay, then," she burst out, "then nothing may happen after all. Dr. +Allen may say 'No;' the letter may never get to him. It may be that you +will forget all this in a month or two." + +Robin turned his face slowly towards her, and she saw that she had +spoken at random. Again, too, it struck her attention that his manner +seemed a little changed. It was graver than that to which she was +accustomed. + +"I shall not forget it," he said softly. "And Dr. Allen will get the +letter. Or, if not he, someone else." + +There was silence again, but Mrs. Manners heard her daughter draw a long +breath. + + +III + +It was an hour later that Marjorie found herself able to say that which +she knew must be said. + +Robin had lingered on, talking of this and that, though he had said half +a dozen times that he must be getting homewards; and at last, when he +rose, Mistress Manners, who was still wholly misconceiving the +situation, after the manner of sensible middle-aged folk, archly and +tactfully took her leave and disappeared down towards the house, +advancing some domestic reason for her departure. + +Robin sighed, and turned to the girl, who still sat quiet. But as he +turned she lifted her eyes to him swiftly. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Robin," she said. + +He pulled himself up. + +"You understand, do you not?" she said. "You are to be a priest. You +must remember that always. You are a sort of student already." + +She could see him pale a little; his lips tightened. For a moment he +said nothing; he was taken wholly aback. + +"Then I am not to come here again?" + +Marjorie stood up. She showed no sign of the fierce self-control she was +using. + +"Why, yes," she said. "Come as you would come to any Catholic +neighbours. But no more than that.... You are to be a priest." + + * * * * * + +The spring air was full of softness and sweetness as they stood there. +On the trees behind them and on the roses in front the budding leaves +had burst into delicate green, and the copses on all sides sounded with +the twittering of birds. The whole world, it seemed, was kindling with +love and freshness. Yet these two had to stand here and be cold, one to +the other.... He was to be a priest; that must not be forgotten, and +they must meet no more on the old footing. That was gone. Already he +stood among the Levites, at least in intention; and the Lord alone was +to be the portion of his inheritance and his Cup. + +It was a minute before either of them moved, and during that minute the +maid felt her courage ebb from her like an outgoing tide, leaving a +desolation behind. It was all that she could do not to cry out. + +But when at last Robin made a movement and she had to look him in the +face, what she saw there braced and strengthened her. + +"You are right, Mistress Marjorie," he said both gravely and kindly. "I +will bid you good-day and be getting to my horse." + +He kissed her gently, as the manner was, and went down the path alone. + + + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +It was with a sudden leap of her heart that Marjorie, looking out of her +window at the late autumn landscape, her mind still running on the sheet +of paper that lay before her, saw a capped head, and then a horse's +crest, rise over the broken edge of land up which Robin had ridden so +often two and three years ago. Then she saw who was the rider, and laid +her pen down again. + + * * * * * + +It was two years since the lad had gone to Rheims, and it would be five +years more, she knew (since he was not over quick at his books), before +he would return a priest. She had letters from him: one would come now +and again, a month or two sometimes after the date of writing. It was +only in September that she had had the letter which he had written her +on hearing of her father's death, and Mr. Manners had died in June. She +had written back to him then, a discreet and modest letter enough, +telling him of how Mr. Simpson had read mass over the body before it was +taken down to Derby for the burying; and telling him, too, of her +mother's rheumatics that kept her abed now three parts of the year. For +the rest, the letters were dull enough reading to one who did not +understand them: the news the lad had to give was of a kind that must be +disguised, lest the letters should fall into other hands, since it +concerned the coming and going of priests whose names must not appear. +Yet, for all that, the letters were laid up in a press, and the heap +grew slowly. + +It was Mr. Anthony Babington who was come now to see her, and it was +his third visit since the summer. But she knew well enough what he was +come for, since his young wife, whom he had married last year, was no +use to him in such matters: she had lately had a child, too, and lived +quietly at Dethick with her women. His letters, too, would come at +intervals, carried by a rider, or sometimes some farmer's man on his way +home from Derby, and these letters, too, held dull reading enough for +such as were not in the secret. Yet the magistrates at Derby would have +given a good sum if they could have intercepted and understood them. + +It was in the upper parlour now that she received him. A fire was +burning there, as it had burned so long ago, when Robin found her fresh +from her linen, and Anthony sat down in the same place. She sat by the +window, with the paper in her hands at which she had been writing when +she first saw him. + +He had news for her, of two kinds, and, like a man, gave her first that +which she least wished to hear. (She had first showed him the paper.) + +"That was the very matter I was come about," he said. "You have only a +few of the names, I see. Now the rest will be over before Christmas, and +will all be in London together." + +"Can you not give me the names?" she said. + +"I could give you the names, certainly. And I will do so before I leave; +I have them here. But--Mistress Marjorie, could you not come to London +with me? It would ease the case very much." + +"Why, I could not," she said. "My mother--And what good would it +serve?" + +"This is how the matter stands," said Anthony, crossing his legs. "We +have a dozen priests coming all together--at least, they will not travel +together, of course; but they will all reach London before Christmas, +and there they will hold counsel as to who shall go to the districts. +Eight of them, I have no doubt, will come to the north. There are as +many priests in the south as are safe at the present time--or as are +needed. Now if you were to come with me, mistress--with a serving-maid, +and my sister would be with us--we could meet these priests, and speak +with them, and make their acquaintance. That would remove a great deal +of danger. We must not have that affair again which fell out last +month." + +Marjorie nodded slowly. (It was wonderful how her gravity had grown on +her these last two years.) + +She knew well enough what he meant. It was the affair of the clerk who +had come from Derby on a matter connected with her father's will about +the time she was looking for the arrival of a strange priest, and who +had been so mistaken by her. Fortunately he had been a well-disposed +man, with Catholic sympathies, or grave trouble might have followed. But +this proposal of a visit to London seemed to her impossible. She had +never been to London in her life; it appeared to her as might a voyage +to the moon. Derby seemed oppressingly large and noisy and dangerous; +and Derby, she understood, was scarcely more than a village compared to +London. + +"I could not do it," she said presently. "I could not leave my mother." + +Anthony explained further. + +It was evident that Booth's Edge was becoming more and more a harbour +for priests, owing largely to Mistress Marjorie's courage and piety. It +was well placed; it was remote; and it had so far avoided all suspicion. +Padley certainly served for many, but Padley was nearer the main road; +and besides, had fallen under the misfortune of losing its master for +the very crime of recusancy. It seemed to be all important, therefore, +that the ruling mistress of Booth's Edge, since there was no master, +should meet as many priests as possible, in order that she might both +know and be known by them; and here was such an opportunity as would not +easily occur again. Here were a dozen priests, all to be together at one +time; and of these, at least two-thirds would be soon in the north. How +convenient, therefore, it would be if their future hostess could but +meet them, learn their plans, and perhaps aid them by her counsel. + +But she shook her head resolutely. + +"I cannot do it," she said. + +Anthony made a little gesture of resignation. But, indeed, he had +scarcely hoped to persuade her. He knew it was a formidable thing to ask +of a countrybred maid. + +"Then we must do as well as we can," he said. "In any case, I must go. +There is a priest I have to meet in any case; he is returning as soon as +he has bestowed the rest." + +"Yes?" + +"His name is Ballard. He is known as Fortescue, and passes himself off +as a captain. You would never know him for a priest." + +"He is returning, you say?" + +A shade of embarrassment passed over the young man's face, and Marjorie +saw that there was something behind which she was not to know. + +"Yes," he said, "I have business with him. He is not to come over on the +mission yet, but only to bring the others and see them safe--" + +He broke off suddenly. + +"Why, I was forgetting," he cried. "Our Robin is coming too. I had a +letter from him, and another for you." + +He searched in the breast of his coat, and did not see the sudden +rigidity that fell on the girl. For a moment she sat perfectly still; +her heart had leapt to her throat, it seemed, and was hammering +there.... But by the time he had found the letter she was herself again. + +"Here it is," he said. + +She took it; but made no movement to open it. + +"But he is not to be a priest for five years yet?" she said quietly. + +"No; but they send them sometimes as servants and such like, to make a +party seem what it is not, as well as to learn how to avoid her Grace's +servants. He will go back with Mr. Ballard, I think, after three or four +weeks. You have had letters from him, you told me?" + +She nodded. + +"Yes; but he said nothing of it, but only how much he longed to see +England again." + +"He could not. It has only just been arranged. He has asked to go." + +There was a silence for a moment. But Anthony did not understand what it +meant. He had known nothing of the affair of his friend and this girl, +and he looked upon them merely as a pair of acquaintances, above all, +when he had heard of Robin's determination to go to Rheims. Even the +girl saw that he knew nothing, in spite of her embarrassment, and the +thought that had come to her when she had heard of Robin's coming to +London grew on her every moment. But she thought she must gain time. + +She stood up. + +"You would like to see his letters?" she asked. "I will bring them." + +And she slipped out of the room. + + +II + +Anthony Babington sat still, staring up at Icarus in the chariot of the +Sun, with something of a moody look on his face. + +It was true that he was sincere and active enough in all that he did up +here in the north for the priests of his faith; indeed, he risked both +property and liberty on their behalf, and was willing to continue doing +so as long as these were left to him. But it seemed to him sometimes +that too much was done by spiritual ways and too little by temporal. +Certainly the priesthood and the mass were instruments--and, indeed, the +highest instruments in God's hand; it was necessary to pray and receive +the sacraments, and to run every risk in life for these purposes. Yet it +appeared to him that the highest instruments were not always the best +for such rough work. + +It was now over two years ago since the thought had first come to him, +and since that time he had spared no effort to shape a certain other +weapon, which, he thought, would do the business straight and clean. Yet +how difficult it had been to raise any feeling on the point. At first he +had spoken almost freely to this or that Catholic whom he could trust; +he had endeavoured to win even Robin; and yet, with hardly an exception, +all had drawn back and bidden him be content with a spiritual warfare. +One priest, indeed, had gone so far as to tell him that he was on +dangerous ground ... and the one and single man who up to the present +had seemed on his side, was the very man, Mr. Ballard, then a layman, +whom he had met by chance in London, and who had been the occasion of +first suggesting any such idea. It was, in fact, for the sake of meeting +Ballard again that he was going to London; and, he had almost thought +from his friend's last letter, it had seemed that it was for the sake +of meeting him that Mr. Ballard was coming across once more. + +So the young man sat, with that moody look on his face, until Marjorie +came back, wondering what news he would have from Mr. Ballard, and +whether the plan, at present only half conceived, was to go forward or +be dropped. He was willing enough, as has been said, to work for +priests, and he had been perfectly sincere in his begging Marjorie to +come with him for that very purpose; but there was another work which he +thought still more urgent.... However, that was not to be Marjorie's +affair.... It was work for men only. + + * * * * * + +"Here they are," she said, holding out the packet. + +He took them and thanked her. + +"I may read them at my leisure? I may take them with me?" + +She had not meant that, but there was no help for it now. + +"Why, yes, if you wish," she said. "Stay; let me show you which they +are. You may not wish to take them all." + + * * * * * + +The letters that the two looked over together in that wainscoted parlour +at Booth's Edge lie now in an iron case in a certain muniment-room. They +are yellow now, and the ink is faded to a pale dusky red; and they must +not be roughly unfolded lest they should crack at the creases. But they +were fresh then, written on stout white paper, each occupying one side +of a sheet that was then folded three or four times, sealed, and +inscribed to "Mistress Marjorie Manners" in the middle, with the word +"Haste" in the lower corner. The lines of writing run close together, +and the flourishes on one line interweave now and again with the tails +on the next. + +The first was written within a week of Robin's coming to Rheims, and +told the tale of the sailing, the long rides that followed it, the +pleasure the writer found at coming to a Catholic country, and something +of his adventures upon his arrival with his little party. But names and +places were scrupulously omitted. Dr. Allen was described as "my host"; +and, in more than one instance, the name of a town was inscribed with a +line drawn beneath it to indicate that this was a kind of _alias_. + +The second letter gave some account of the life lived in Rheims--was a +real boy's letter--and this was more difficult to treat with discretion. +It related that studies occupied a certain part of the day; that +"prayers" were held at such and such times, and that the sports +consisted chiefly of a game called "Cat." + +So with the eight or nine that followed. The third and fourth were +bolder, and spoke of certain definitely Catholic practices--of prayers +for the conversion of England, and of mass said on certain days for the +same intention. It seemed as if the writer had grown confident in his +place of security. But later, again, his caution returned to him, and he +spoke in terms so veiled that even Marjorie could scarcely understand +him. Yet, on the whole, the letters, if they had fallen into hostile +hands, would have done no irreparable injury; they would only have +indicated that a Catholic living abroad, in some unnamed university or +college, was writing an account of his life to a Catholic named Mistress +Marjorie Manners, living in England. + + * * * * * + +When the girl had finished her explaining, it was evident that there was +no longer any need for Anthony to take them with him. He said so. + +"Ah! but take them, if you will," cried the girl. + +"It would be better not. You have them safe here. And--" + +Marjorie flushed. She felt that her ruse had been too plain. + +"I would sooner you took them," she said. "You can read them at your +leisure." + +So he accepted, and slipped them into his breast with what seemed to the +girl a lamentable carelessness. Then he stood up. + +"I must go," he said. "And I have never asked after Mistress Manners." + +"She is abed," said the girl. "She has been there this past month now." + +She went with him to the door, for it was not until then that she was +courageous enough to speak as she had determined. + +"Mr. Babington," she said suddenly. + +He turned. + +"I have been thinking while we talked," she said. "You think my coming +to London would be of real service?" + +"I think so. It would be good for you to meet these priests before +they--" + +"Then I will come, if my mother gives me leave. When will you go?" + +"We should be riding in not less than a week from now. But, mistress--" + +"No, I have thought of it. I will come--if my mother gives me leave." + +He nodded briskly and brightly. He loved courage, and he understood that +this decision of hers had required courage. + +"Then my sister shall come for you, and--" + +"No, Mr. Babington, there is no need. We shall start from Derby?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then my maid and I will ride down there and sleep at the inn, and be +ready for you on the day that you appoint." + + * * * * * + +When he was gone at last she went back again to the parlour, and sat +without moving and without seeing. She was in an agony lest she had been +unmaidenly in determining to go so soon as she heard that Robin was to +be there. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +Anthony lifted his whip and pointed. + +"London," he said. + +Marjorie nodded; she was too tired to speak. + + * * * * * + +The journey had taken them some ten days, by easy stages; each night +they had slept at an inn, except once, when they stayed with friends of +the Babingtons and had heard mass. They had had the small and usual +adventures: a horse had fallen lame; a baggage-horse had bolted; they +had passed two or three hunting-parties; they had been stared at in +villages and saluted, and stared at and not saluted. Rain had fallen; +the clouds had cleared again; and the clouds had gathered once more and +rain had again fallen. The sun, morning by morning, had stood on the +left, and evening by evening gone down again on the right. + +They were a small party for so long a journey--the three with four +servants--two men and two maids: the men had ridden armed, as the custom +was; one rode in front, then came the two ladies with Anthony; then the +two maids, and behind them the second man. In towns and villages they +closed up together lest they should be separated, and then spread out +once more as the long, straight track lengthened before them. Anthony +and the two men-servants carried each a case of dags or pistols at the +saddle-bow, for fear of highwaymen. But none had troubled them. + +A strange dreamlike mood had come down on Marjorie. At times it seemed +to her in her fatigue as if she had done nothing all her life but ride; +at times, as she sat rocking, she was living still at home, sitting in +the parlour, watching her mother; the illusion was so clear and +continuous that its departure, when her horse stumbled or a companion +spoke, was as an awaking from a dream. At other times she looked about +her; talked; asked questions. + +She found Mistress Alice Babington a pleasant friend, some ten years +older than herself, who knew London well, and had plenty to tell her. +She was a fair woman, well built and active; very fond of her brother, +whom she treated almost as a mother treats a son; but she seemed not to +be in his confidence, and even not to wish to be; she thought more of +his comfort than of his ideals. She was a Catholic, of course, but of +the quiet, assured kind, and seemed unable to believe that anyone could +seriously be anything else; she seemed completely confident that the +present distress was a passing one, and that when politics had run their +course, it would presently disappear. Marjorie found her as comfortable +as a pillow, when she was low enough to rest on her.... + + * * * * * + +Though Marjorie had nodded only when the spires of London shone up +suddenly in the evening light, a sharp internal interest awakened in +her. It was as astonishing as a miracle that the end should be in sight; +the past ten days had made it seem to her as if all things which she +desired must eternally recede.... She touched her horse unconsciously, +and stared out between his ears, sitting upright and alert again. + +It was not a great deal that met the eye, but it was so disposed as to +suggest a great deal more. Far away to the right lay a faint haze, and +in it appeared towers and spires, with gleams of sharp white here and +there, where some tall building rose above the dark roofs. To the left +again appeared similar signs of another town--the same haze, towers and +spires--linked to the first. She knew what they were; she had heard half +a dozen times already of the two towns that made London--running +continuously in one long line, however, which grew thin by St. Mary's +Hospital and St. Martin's, she was told--the two troops of houses and +churches that had grown up about the two centres of Court and City, +Westminster and the City itself. But it was none the less startling to +see these with her proper eyes. + +Presently, in spite of herself, as she saw the spire of St. Clement's +Dane, where she was told they must turn City-wards, she began to talk, +and Anthony to answer. + + +II + +Dark was beginning to fall and the lamps to be lighted as they rode in +at last half an hour later, across the Fleet Ditch, through Ludgate and +turned up towards Cheapside. They were to stay at an inn where Anthony +was accustomed to lodge when he was not with friends--an inn, too, of +which the landlord was in sympathy with the old ways, and where friends +could come and go without suspicion. It was here, perhaps, that letters +would be waiting for them from Rheims. + +Marjorie had known Derby only among the greater towns, and neither this +nor the towns where she had stayed, night by night, during the journey, +had prepared her in the least for the amazing rush and splendour of the +City itself. A fine, cold rain was falling, and this, she was told, had +driven half the inhabitants within doors; but even so, it appeared to +her that London was far beyond her imaginings. Beneath here, in the deep +and narrow channel of houses up which they rode, narrowed yet further +by the rows of stalls that were ranged along the pathways on either +side, the lamps were kindling swiftly, in windows as well as in the +street; here and there hung great flaring torches, and the vast eaves +and walls overhead shone in the light of the fires where the rich +gilding threw it back. Beyond them again, solemn and towering, leaned +over the enormous roofs; and everywhere, it seemed to her fresh from the +silence and solitude of the country, countless hundreds of moving faces +were turned up to her, from doorways and windows, as well as from the +groups that hurried along under the shelter of the walls; and the air +was full of talking and laughter and footsteps. It meant nothing to her +at present, except inextricable confusion: the gleam of arms as a patrol +passed by; the important little group making its way with torches; the +dogs that scuffled in the roadway; the party of apprentices singing +together loudly, with linked arms, plunging up a side street; the hooded +women chattering together with gestures beneath a low-hung roof; the +calling, from side to side of the twisting street; the bargaining of the +sellers at the stalls--all this, with the rattle of their own horses' +feet and the jingling of the bits, combined only to make a noisy and +brilliant spectacle without sense or signification. + +Mistress Alice glanced at her, smiling. + +"You are tired," she said; "we are nearly there. That is St. Paul's on +the right." + +Ah! that gave her peace.... + +They were turning off from the main street just as her friend spoke; but +she had time to catch a glimpse of what appeared at first sight a mere +gulf of darkness, and then, as they turned, resolved itself into a vast +and solemn pile, grey-lined against black. Lights burned far across the +wide churchyard, as well as in the windows of the high houses that +crowned the wall, and figures moved against the glow, tiny as dolls.... +Then she remembered again: how God had once been worshipped there +indeed, in the great house built to His honour, but was no longer so +worshipped. Or, if it were the same God, as some claimed, at least the +character of Him was very differently conceived.... + + * * * * * + +The "Red Bull" again increased her sense of rest; since all inns are +alike. A curved archway opened on the narrow street; and beneath this +they rode, to find themselves in a paved court, already lighted, +surrounded by window-pierced walls, and high galleries to right and +left. The stamping of horses from the further end; and, almost +immediately, the appearance of a couple of hostlers, showed where the +stables lay. Beside it she could see through the door of the +brightly-lit bake-house. + +She was terribly stiff, as she found when she limped up the three or +four stairs that led up to the door of the living-part of the inn; and +she was glad enough to sit down in a wide, low parlour with her friend +as Mr. Babington went in search of the host. The room was lighted only +by a fire leaping in the chimney; and she could make out little, except +that pieces of stuff hung upon the walls, and a long row of metal +vessels and plates were ranged in a rack between the windows. + +"It is a quiet inn," said Alice. Marjorie nodded again. She was too +tired to speak; and almost immediately Anthony came back, with a tall, +clean-shaven, middle-aged man, in an apron, following behind. + +"It is all well," he said. "We can have our rooms and the parlour +complete. These are the ladies," he added. + +The landlord bowed a little, with a dignity beyond that of his dress. + +"Supper shall be served immediately, madam," he said, with a tactful +impartiality towards them both. + + * * * * * + +They were indeed very pleasant rooms; and, as Anthony had described +them to her, were situated towards the back of the long, low house, on +the first floor, with a private staircase leading straight up from the +yard to the parlour itself. The sleeping-rooms, too, opened upon the +parlour; that which the two ladies were to occupy was furthest from the +yard, for quietness' sake; that in which Anthony and his man would +sleep, upon the other side. The windows of all three looked straight out +upon a little walled garden that appeared to be the property of some +other house. The rooms were plainly furnished, but had a sort of dignity +about them, especially in the carved woodwork about the doors and +windows. There was a fireplace in the parlour, plainly a recent +addition; and a maid rose from kindling the logs and turf, as the two +ladies came back after washing and changing. + +A table was already laid, lit by a couple of candles: it was laid with +fine napery, and the cutlery was clean and solid. Marjorie looked round +the room once more; and, as she sat down, Anthony came in, still in his +mud-splashed dress, carrying three or four letters in his hands. + +"News," he said.... "I will be with you immediately," and vanished into +his room. + + * * * * * + +The sense of home was deepening on Marjorie every moment. This room in +which she sat, might, with a little fancy, be thought to resemble the +hall at Booth's Edge. It was not so high, indeed; but the plain solidity +of the walls and woodwork, the aspect of the supper-table, and the +quiet, so refreshing after the noises of the day, and, above all, after +the din of their mile-long ride through the City--these little things, +together with the knowledge that the journey was done at last, and that +her old friend Robin was, if not already come, at least soon to +arrive--these little things helped to soothe and reassure her. She +wondered how her mother found herself.... + +When Anthony came back, the supper was all laid out. He had given orders +that no waiting was to be done; his own servants would do what was +necessary. He had a bright and interested face, Marjorie thought; and +the instant they were sat down, she knew the reason of it. + +"We are just in time," he said. "These letters have been lying here for +me the last week. They will be here, they tell me, by to-morrow night. +But that is not all--" + +He glanced round the dusky room; then he laid down the knife with which +he was carving; and spoke in a yet lower voice. + +"Father Campion is in the house," he said. + +His sister started. + +"In the house?... Do you mean--" + +He nodded mysteriously, as he took up the knife again. + +"He has been here three or four days. The rooms are full in the ... in +the usual place. And I have spoken with him; he is coming here after +supper. He had already supped." + +Marjorie leaned back in her chair; but she said nothing. From beneath in +the house came the sound of singing, from the tavern parlour where boys +were performing madrigals. + +It seemed to her incredible that she should presently be speaking with +the man, whose name was already affecting England as perhaps no priest's +name had ever affected it. He had been in England, she knew, +comparatively a short time; yet in that time, his name had run like fire +from mouth to mouth. To the minds of Protestants there was something +almost diabolical about the man; he was here, he was there, he was +everywhere, and yet, when the search was up, he was nowhere. Tales were +told of his eloquence that increased the impression that he made a +thousand-fold; it was said that he could wile birds off their branches +and the beasts from their lairs; and this eloquence, it was known, could +be heard only by initiates, in far-off country houses, or in quiet, +unsuspected places in the cities. He preached in some shrouded and +locked room in London one day; and the next, thirty miles off, in a +cow-shed to rustics. And his learning and his subtlety were equal to his +eloquence: her Grace had heard him at Oxford years ago, before his +conversion; and, it was said, would refuse him nothing, even now, if he +would but be reasonable in his religion; even Canterbury, it was +reported, might be his. And if he would not be reasonable--then, as was +fully in accordance with what was known of her Grace, nothing was too +bad for him. + +Such feeling then, on the part of Protestants, found its fellow in that +of the Catholics. He was their champion, as no other man could be. Had +he not issued his famous "challenge" to any and all of the Protestant +divines, to meet them in any argument on religion that they cared to +select, in any place and at any time, if only his own safe-conduct were +secure? And was it not notorious that none would meet him? He was, +indeed, a fire, a smoke in the nostrils of his adversaries, a flame in +the hearts of his friends. Everywhere he ranged, he and his comrade, +Father Persons, sometimes in company, sometimes apart; and wherever they +went the Faith blazed up anew from its dying embers, in the lives of +rustic knave and squire. + +And she was to see him! + + * * * * * + +"He is here for four or five days only," went on Anthony presently, +still in a low, cautious voice. "The hunt is very hot, they say. Not +even the host knows who he is; or, at least, makes that he does not. He +is under another name, of course; it is Mr. Edmonds, this time. He was +in Essex, he tells me; but comes to the wolves' den for safety. It is +safer, he says, to sit secure in the midst of the trap, than to wander +about its doors; for when the doors are opened he can run out again, if +no one knows he is there...." + + +III + +When supper was finished at last, and the maids had borne away the +dishes, there came almost immediately a tap upon the door; and before +any could answer, there walked in a man, smiling. + +He was of middle-size, dressed in a dark, gentleman's suit, carrying his +feathered hat in his hand, with his sword. He appeared far younger than +Marjorie had expected--scarcely more than thirty years old, of a dark +and yet clear complexion, large-eyed, with a look of humour; his hair +was long and brushed back; and a soft, pointed beard and moustache +covered the lower part of his face. He moved briskly and assuredly, as +one wholly at his ease. + +"I am come to the right room?" he said. "That is as well." + +His voice, too, had a ring of gaiety in it; it was low, quite clear and +very sympathetic; and his manners, as Marjorie observed, were those of a +cultivated gentleman, without even a trace of the priest. She would not +have been astonished if she had been told that the man was of the court, +or some great personage of the country. There was no trace of furtive +hurry or of alarm about him; he moved deftly and confidently; and when +he sat down, after the proper greetings, crossed one leg over the other, +so that he could nurse his foot. It seemed more incredible even than she +had thought, that this was Father Campion! + +"You have pleasant rooms here, and music to cheer you, too," he said. +"I understand that you are often here, Mr. Babington." + +Anthony explained that he found them convenient and very secure. + +"Roberts is a prudent landlord," he said. + +Father Campion nodded. + +"He knows his own business, which is what few landlords do, in these +degenerate days; and he knows nothing at all of his guests'. In that he +is even more of an exception." + +His eyes twinkled delightfully at the ladies. + +"And so," he said, "God blesses him in those who use his house." + +They talked for a few minutes in this manner. Father Campion spoke of +the high duty that lay on all country ladies to make themselves +acquainted with the sights of the town; and spoke of three or four of +these. Her Grace, of course, must be seen; that was the greatest sight +of all. They must make an opportunity for that; and there would surely +be no difficulty, since her Grace liked nothing better than to be looked +at. And they must go up the river by water, if the weather allowed, from +the Tower to Westminster; not from Westminster to the Tower, since that +was the way that traitors came, and no good Catholic could, even in +appearance, be a traitor. And, if they pleased, he would himself be +their guide for a part of their adventures. He was to lie hid, he told +them; and he knew no better way to do that than to flaunt as boldly as +possible in the open ways. + +"If I lay in my room," said he, "with a bolt drawn, I would soon have +some busy fellow knocking on the door to know what I did there. But if I +could but dine with her Grace, or take an hour with Mr. Topcliffe, I +should be secure for ever." + +Marjorie glanced shyly towards Alice, as if to ask a question. (She was +listening, it seemed to her, with every nerve in her tired body.) The +priest saw the glance. + +"Mr. Topcliffe, madam? Well; let us say he is a dear friend of the +Lieutenant of the Tower, and has, I think, lodgings there just now. And +he is even a friend of Catholics, too--to such, at least, as desire a +heavenly crown." + +"He is an informer and a tormentor!" broke in Anthony harshly. + +"Well, sir; let us say that he is very loyal to the letter of the law; +and that he presides over our Protestant bed of Procrustes." + +"The--" began Marjorie, emboldened by the kindness of the priest's +voice. + +"The bed of Procrustes, madam, was a bed to which all who lay upon it +had to be conformed. Those that were too long were made short; and those +that were too short were made long. It is a pleasant classical name for +the rack." + +Marjorie caught her breath. But Father Campion went on smoothly. + +"We shall have a clear day to-morrow, I think," he said. "If you are at +liberty, sir, and these ladies are not too wearied--I have a little +business in Westminster; and--" + +"Why, yes," said Anthony, "for to-morrow night we expect friends. From +Rheims, sir." + +The priest dropped his foot and leaned forward. + +"From Rheims?" he said sharply. + +The other nodded. + +"Eight or ten at least will arrive. Not all are priests. One is a friend +of our own from Derbyshire, who will not be made priest for five years +yet." + +"I had not heard they were to come so soon," said Father Campion. "And +what a company of them!" + +"There are a few of them who have been here before. Mr. Ballard is one +of them." + +The priest was silent an instant. + +"Mr. Ballard," he said. "Ballard! Yes; he has been here before. He +travels as Captain Fortescue, does he not? You are a friend of his?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Father Campion made as if he would speak; but interrupted himself and +was silent; and it seemed to Marjorie as if another mood was fallen on +him. And presently they were talking again of London and its sights. + + +IV + +In spite of her weariness, Marjorie could not sleep for an hour or two +after she had gone to bed. It was an extraordinary experience to her to +have fallen in, on the very night of her coming to London, with the one +man whose name stood to her for all that was gallant in her faith. As +she lay there, listening to the steady breathing of Alice, who knew no +such tremors of romance, to the occasional stamp of a horse across the +yard, and, once or twice, to voices and footsteps passing on some paved +way between the houses, she rehearsed again and again to herself the +tales she had heard of him. + +Now and again she thought of Robin. She wondered whether he, too, one +day (and not of necessity a far-distant day, since promotion came +quickly in this war of faith), would occupy some post like that which +this man held so gaily and so courageously; and for the first time, +perhaps, she understood not in vision merely, but in sober thought, what +the life of a priest in those days signified. Certainly she had met man +after man before--she had entertained them often enough in her mother's +place, and had provided by her own wits for their security--men who +went in peril of liberty and even of life; but here, within the walls of +London, in this "wolves' den" as Father Campion had called it, where men +brushed against one another continually, and looked into a thousand +faces a day, where patrols went noisily with lights and weapons, where +the great Tower stood, where her Grace, the mistress of the wolves, had +her dwelling--here, peril assumed another aspect, and pain and death +another reality, from that which they presented on the wind-swept hills +and the secret valleys of the country from which they came.... And it +was with Father Campion himself, in his very flesh, that she had talked +this evening--it was Father Campion who had given her that swift, kindly +look of commendation, as Mr. Babington had spoken of her reason for +coming to London, and of her hospitality to wandering priests--Father +Campion, the Angel of the Church, was in England. And to-morrow Robin, +too, would be here. + + * * * * * + +Then, as sleep began to come down on her tired and excited brain, and to +form, as so often under such conditions, little visible images, even +before the reason itself is lulled, there began to pass before her, +first tiny and delicate pictures of what she had seen to-day--the low +hills to the north of London, dull and dark below the heavy sky, but +light immediately above the horizon as the sun sank down; the appearance +of her horse's ears--those ears and that tuft of wayward mane between +them of which she had grown so weary; the lighted walls of the London +streets; the monstrous shadows of the eaves; the flare of lights; the +moving figures--these came first; and then faces--Father Campion's, +smiling, with white teeth and narrowed eyes, bright against the dark +chimney-breast; Alice's serene features, framed in flaxen hair; and +then, as sleep had all but conquered her, the imagination sent up one +last idea, and a face came into being before her, so formless yet so +full, so sinister, so fierce and so distorted, that she drew a sudden +breath and sat up, trembling.... + +... Why had they spoken to her of Topcliffe?... + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +It was a soft winter's morning as the party came down the little slope +towards the entrance-gate of the Tower next day. The rain last night had +cleared the air, and the sun shone as through thin veils of haze, kindly +and sweet. The river on the right was at high tide, and up from the +water's edge came the cries of the boatmen, pleasant and invigorating. + +The sense of unreality was deeper than ever on Marjorie's mind. One +incredible thing after another, known to her only in the past by rumour +and description, and imagined in a frame of glory, was taking shape +before her eyes.... She was in London; she had slept in Cheapside; she +had talked with Father Campion; he was with her now; this was the Tower +of London that lay before her, a monstrous huddle of grey towers and +battlemented walls along which passed the scarlet of a livery and the +gleam of arms. + +All the way that they had walked, her eyes had been about her +everywhere--the eyes of a startled child, through which looked the soul +of a woman. She had seen the folks go past like actors in a +drama--London merchants, apprentices, a party of soldiers, a group on +horseback: she had seen a congregation pour out of the doors of some +church whose name she had asked and had forgotten again; the cobbled +patches of street had been a marvel to her; the endless roofs, the white +and black walls, the leaning windows, the galleries where heads moved; +the vast wharfs; the crowding masts, resembling a stripped forest; the +rolling-gaited sailors; and, above all, the steady murmur of voices and +footsteps, never ceasing, beyond which the crowing of cocks and the +barking of dogs sounded far off and apart--these things combined to make +a kind of miracle that all at once delighted, oppressed and bewildered +her. + +Here and there some personage had been pointed out to her by the trim, +merry gentleman who walked by her side with his sword swinging. (Anthony +went with his sister just behind, as they threaded their way through the +crowded streets, and the two men-servants followed.) She saw a couple of +City dignitaries in their furs, with stavesmen to clear their road; a +little troop of the Queen's horse, blazing with colour, under the +command of a young officer who might have come straight from Romance. +But she was more absorbed--or, rather, she returned every instant to the +man who walked beside her with such an air and talked so loudly and +cheerfully. Certainly, it seemed to her, his disguise was perfect, and +himself the best part of it. She compared him in her mind with a couple +of ministers, splendid and awful in their gowns and ruffs, whom they had +met turning into one of the churches just now, and smiled at the +comparison; and yet perhaps these were preachers too, and eloquent in +their own fashion. + +And now, here was the Tower--the end of all things, so far as London was +concerned. Beyond it she saw the wide rolling hills, the bright reaches +of the river, and the sparkle of Placentia, far away. + +"Her Grace is at Westminster these days," exclaimed the priest; "she is +moving to Hampton Court in a day or two; so I doubt not we shall be able +to go in and see a little. We shall see, at least, the outside of the +Paradise where so many holy ones have lived and died. There are three or +four of them here now; but the most of them are in the Fleet or the +Marshalsea." + +Marjorie glanced at him. She did not understand. + +"I mean Catholic prisoners, mistress. There are several of them in ward +here, but we had better speak no names." + +He wheeled suddenly as they came out into the open and moved to the +left. + +"There is Tower Hill, mistress; where my lord Cardinal Fisher died, and +Thomas More." + +Marjorie stopped short. But there was nothing great to see--only a +rising ground, empty and bare, with a few trimmed trees; the ground was +without grass; a few cobbled paths crossed this way and that. + +"And here is the gateway," he said, "whence they come out to glory.... +And there on the right" (he swept his arm towards the river) "you may +see, if you are fortunate, other criminals called pirates, hung there +till they be covered by three tides." + + * * * * * + +Still standing there, with Mr. Babington and his sister come up from +behind, he began to relate the names of this tower and of that, in the +great tumbled mass of buildings surmounted by the high keep. But +Marjorie paid no great attention except with an effort: she was brooding +rather on the amazing significance of all that she saw. It was under +this gateway that the martyrs came; it was from those windows in that +tower which the priest had named just now, that they had looked.... And +this was Father Campion. She turned and watched him as he talked. He was +dressed as he had been dressed last night, but with a small cloak thrown +over his shoulders; he gesticulated freely and easily, pointing out this +and that; now and again his eyes met hers, and there was nothing but a +grave merriment in them.... Only once or twice his voice softened, as he +spoke of those great ones that had shown Catholics how both to die and +live. + +"And now," he said, "with your permission I will go and speak to the +guard, and see if we may have entrance." + + * * * * * + +It was almost with terror that she saw him go--a solitary man, with a +price on his head, straight up to those whose business it was to catch +him--armed men, as she could see--she could even see the quilted jacks +they wore--who, it may be, had talked of him in the guard-room only last +night. But his air was so assured and so magnificent that even she began +to understand how complete such a disguise might be; and she watched him +speaking with the officer with a touch even of his own humour in her +heart. Indeed, there was some truth in the charge of Jesuitry, after +all! + +Then the figure turned and beckoned, and they went forward. + + +II + +A certain horror, in spite of herself and her company, fell on her as +she passed beneath the solid stone vaulting, passed along beneath the +towering wall, turned up from the water-gate, and came out into the wide +court round which the Lieutenant's lodgings, the little church, and the +enormous White Tower itself are grouped. There was a space, not enclosed +in any way, but situated within a web of paths, not far from the church, +that caught her attention. She stood looking at it. + +"Yes, mistress," said the priest behind her. "That is the place of +execution for those who die within the Tower--those usually of royal +blood. My Lady Salisbury died there, and my Lady Jane Grey, and others." + +He laid his hand gently on her arm. + +"You must not look so grave," he said, "you must gape more. You are a +country-cousin, madam." + +And she smiled in spite of herself, as she met his eyes. + +"Tell me everything," she said. + +They went together nearer to the church, and faced about. + +"We can see better from here," he said. Then he began. + +First there was the Lieutenant's lodging on the right. They must look +well at that. Interviews had taken place there that had made history. +(He mentioned a few names.) Then, further down on the right, beyond that +corner round which they had come just now, was the famous water-gate, +called "Traitors' Gate," through which passed those convicted of treason +at Westminster, or, at least, those who were under grave suspicion. Such +as these came, of course, by water, as prisoners on whose behalf a +demonstration might perhaps be made if they came by land. So, at least, +he understood was the reason of the custom. + +"Her Grace herself once came that way," he said with a twinkle. "Now she +sends other folks in her stead." + +Then he pointed out more clearly the White Tower. It was there that the +Council sat on affairs of importance. + +"And it is there--" began Anthony harshly. + +The priest turned to him, suddenly grave, as if in reproof. + +"Yes," he said softly. "It is there that the passion of the martyrs +begins." + +Marjorie turned sharply. + +"You mean--" + +"Well," he said, "it is there that the Council sits to examine prisoners +both before and after the Question. They are taken downstairs to the +Question, and brought back again after it. It was there that--" + +He broke off. + +"Who is this?" he said. + +The court had been empty while they talked except that on the far side, +beneath the towering cliff of the keep, a sentry went to and fro. But +now another man had come into view, walking up from the way they +themselves had come; and it would appear from the direction he took that +he would pass within twenty or thirty yards of them. He was a tall man, +dressed in sad-coloured clothes, with a felt hat on his head and the +usual sword by his side. He was plainly something of a personage, for he +walked easily and confidently. He was still some distance off; but it +was possible to make out that he was sallowish in complexion, wore a +trimmed beard, and had something of a long throat. + +Father Campion stared at him a moment, and, as he stared, Marjorie heard +Mr. Babington utter a sudden exclamation. Then the priest, with one +quick glance at him, murmured something which Marjorie could not hear, +and walked briskly off to meet the stranger. + +"Come," said Anthony in a sharp, low voice, "we must see the church." + +"Who is it?" whispered Mistress Alice, with even her serene face a +little troubled. + +For the first moment, as they walked towards the entrance of the church, +Anthony said nothing. Then as they reached it, he said, in a tone quite +low and yet full of suppressed passion of some kind, a name that +Marjorie could not catch. + +She turned before they went in, and looked again. + +The priest was talking to the stranger, and was making gestures, as if +asking for direction. + +"Who is it, Mr. Babington?" she asked again as they went in. "I did +not--" + +"Topcliffe," said Anthony. + + +III + +The horror was still on the girl, as they went, an hour later, up the +ebbing tide towards Westminster, in a boat rowed by a waterman and one +of their own servants. About them was a scene, of which the very +thought, a month ago, would have absorbed and fascinated her. They had +scarcely passed through London Bridge finding themselves just in time +before the fall of the water would have hindered their passage, leaving +out of sight the grey sunlit heap of buildings from which they had come. +All about them the river was gay with shipping. Wherries, like clumsy +water-beetles, lurched along out of the current, or slipped out suddenly +to make their way across from one stairs to another; a great barge, +coming down-stream, grew larger every instant, its prow bright with +gilding, and the throb of the twelve oars in the row-locks coming to +them like the grunting of a beast. On either side of the broad stream +rose the houses and the churches, those on this side visible down to +their shining window-panes in the sunlight, and the very texture of +their tiled roofs; those on the other a mere huddle of countless walls +and gables, in the shadow; and between them showed the leafless trees, +stretches of green meadow, across which moved tiny figures, and the +brown flats of the marshes beyond, broken here and there by outlying +villages a mile or two away. Behind them now towered the great buildings +on London Bridge--the chapel, the houses, the old gateway on the south +end, above which the impaled heads of traitors stood out against the +bright sky. It was a tolerable crop just now, the priest had said, +bitterly smiling. But, above all else, as the boat moved up, Marjorie +kept her eyes fixed on far-off Westminster, on the grey towers and the +white walls where Elizabeth reigned and Saint Edward slept; while within +her mind, clear as a picture, she saw still the empty court, as she had +seen it when the priest fetched them out again from the church--empty at +last of the hateful presence which he had faced so confidently. + + * * * * * + +"It appeared to me best to speak with him openly," said the priest +quietly, as they had waited ten minutes later on the wharf outside the +Tower, while the men ran to make ready their boat. "I do not know why, +but I suppose I am one of those who better like their danger in front +than behind. I knew him at once; I have had him pointed out to me two or +three times before. So I looked him in the eyes, and asked him whether +some ladies from the country might be permitted to see the White Tower, +and to whom we had best apply. He told me that was not his affair, and +looked me up and down as he said it. And then he went his way to ... the +White Tower, where I doubt not he had business." + +"He said no more?" asked Anthony. + +"No, he said no more. But I shall know him again better next time, and +he me." + + * * * * * + +It seemed of evil omen to the girl that she should have had such an +encounter on the day that Robin came back. Like all persons who dwell +much in the country, a world that was neither that of the flesh nor yet +of the spirit was that in which she largely moved--a world of strange +laws, and auspices, and this answering to this and that to that. It is a +state inconceivable to those who live in the noise and movement of +town--who find town-life, that is, the life in which they are most at +ease. For where men have made the earth that is trodden underfoot, and +have largely veiled the heavens themselves, it is but natural that they +should think that they have made everything, and that it is they who +rule it. + +As they drew nearer Westminster then, it was with Marjorie as it had +been when they came to the Tower. The priest was busy pointing out this +or that building--the Palace towers, the Hall, the Abbey behind, and St. +Margaret's Church, as well as the smaller buildings of the Court, and +the little town that lay round about. But she listened as she listened +to the noise that came from the streets clear across the water, +attending to it, yet scarcely distinguishing one thing from another, and +forgetting each as soon as she heard it. She was thinking all the while +of Robin, and of the man whose face she had seen, of his beard and his +long throat. Well, at least, Robin was not yet a priest.... + + * * * * * + +The boat was already nearing the King's Stairs at Westminster, when a +new event happened that for a while distracted her. + +The first they saw of it was the sight of a number of men and women +running in a disorderly mob, calling out as they ran, along the +river-bank in the direction from Charing Old Cross towards Palace Yard. +They appeared excited, but not by fear; and it was plain that something +was taking place of which they wished to have a sight. As the priest +stood up in the boat in order to have a clearer sight of what lay above +the bank, three or four trumpet-calls of a peculiar melody, rang out +clear and distinct, echoed back by the walls round about, plainly +audible above the rising noise of a crowd that, it seemed, must be +gathering out of sight. The priest sat down again and his face was +merry. + +"You have come on a fortunate day, mistress," he said to Marjorie. +"First Topcliffe, and now her Grace; if we make haste we may see her +pass by." + +"Her Grace?" + +"She will be going to dinner in Whitehall, after having taken the air +by the river. They will be passing the Abbey now. But she will not be in +her supreme state; I am sorry for that." + + * * * * * + +As they rowed in quickly over the last hundred yards that lay between +them and the stairs, Marjorie listened to the priest as he described +something of what the "supreme state" signified. He spoke of the long +lines of carriages, filled with the ladies and the infirm, preceded by +the pikemen, and the gentlemen pensioners carrying wands, and the +knights followed by the heralds. Behind these, he said, came the +officers of State immediately before the Queen's carriage, and after her +the guards of her person. + +"But this will be but a tame affair," he said. "I wish you could have +seen a Progress, with the arches and the speeches and the declamations, +and the heathen gods and goddesses that reign round our Eliza, when she +will go to Ashridge or Havering. I have heard it said--" + +And then the prow of the boat, turned deftly at the last instant, grated +along the lowest stair, and the waterman was out to steady his craft. + + +IV + +It was the very crown and summit of new sensation that Marjorie attained +as she stood in an open gallery that looked on to the road from +Westminster to Whitehall. Father Campion, speaking of a "good friend" of +his that had his lodgings there, led them by a short turning or two, +that avoided the crowd, straight to the door of what appeared to +Marjorie a mere warren of rooms, stairs and passages. A grave little +man, with a pen behind his ear, ran out upon their knocking at one of +these doors, and led them straight through, smiling and talking, out +into this very gallery where they now stood; and then vanished again. + +The gallery was such as those which Marjorie had noted on the way to the +Tower; a high-hung, airy place, running the length of the house, +contrived on the level of the second floor, with the first floor roof +beneath and overhanging attics above. It was supported on massive oak +beams, and protected from the street by a low balustrade of a height to +lean the elbows upon it. It was on this balustrade that Marjorie leaned, +looking down into the street. + +To the left the narrow roadway curved off out of sight in the direction +of Palace Yard; on the right she could make out, a hundred yards away, +some kind of a gateway, that strode across the street, and gave access, +she supposed, to the Palace. Opposite, the windows were filled with +faces, and an enthusiastic loyalist was leaning, red-faced and +vociferous, calling to a friend in the crowd beneath, from a gallery +corresponding to that from which the girl was looking. + +Of the procession nothing was at present to be seen. They had caught a +glimpse of colour somewhere to the east of the Abbey as they turned off +opposite Westminster Hall; and already the cry of the trumpets and the +increasing noise of a crowd out of sight, told the listeners that they +would not have long to wait. + +Beneath, the crowd was arranging itself with admirable discipline, +dispersing in long lines two or three deep against the walls, so as to +leave a good space, and laughing good-humouredly at a couple of +officious persons in livery who had suddenly made their appearance. And +then, as the country girl herself smiled down, an exclamation from Alice +made her turn. + +At first it was difficult to discern anything clearly in the stream +whose head began to discharge itself round the curve from the left. A +row of brightly-coloured uniforms, moving four abreast, came first, +visible above the tossing heads of horses. Then followed a group of +guards, whose steel caps passed suddenly into the sunlight that caught +them from between the houses, and went again into shadow. + +And then at last, she caught a glimpse of the carriage, followed by +ladies on grey horses; and forgot all the rest. + +This way and that she craned her head, gripping the oak post by which +she leaned, unconscious of all except that she was to see her in whom +England itself seemed to have been incarnated--the woman who, as perhaps +no other earthly sovereign in the world at that time, or before her, had +her people in a grasp that was not one of merely regal power. Even far +away in Derbyshire--even in the little country manor from which the girl +came, the aroma of that tremendous presence penetrated--of the woman +whom men loved to hail as the Virgin Queen, even though they might +question her virginity; the woman--"our Eliza," as the priest had named +her just now--who had made so shrewd an act of faith in her people that +they had responded with an unreserved act of love. It was this woman, +then, whom she was about to see; the sister of Mary and Edward, the +daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn, who had received her kingdom +Catholic, and by her own mere might had chosen to make it Protestant; +the woman whose anointed hands were already red in the blood of God's +servants, yet hands which men fainted as they kissed.... + +Then on a sudden, as Elizabeth lifted her head this side and that, the +girl saw her. + +She was sitting in a low carriage, raised on cushions, alone. Four tall +horses drew her at a slow trot: the wheels of the carriage were deep in +mud, since she had driven for an hour over the deep December roads; but +this added rather to the splendour within. But of this Marjorie +remembered no more than an uncertain glimpse. The air was thick with +cries; from window after window waved hands; and, more than all, the +loyalty was real, and filled the air like brave music. + +There, then, she sat, smiling. + +She was dressed in some splendid stuff; jewels sparkled beneath her +throat. Once a hand in an embroidered glove rose to wave an answer to +the roar of salute; and, as the carriage came beneath, she raised her +face. + +It was a thin face, sharply pear-shaped, ending in a pointed chin; a +tight mouth smiled at the corners; above her narrow eyes and high brows +rose a high forehead, surmounted by strands of auburn hair drawn back +tightly beneath the little head-dress. It was a strangely peaked face, +very clear-skinned, and resembled in some manner a mask. But the look of +it was as sharp as steel; like a slender rapier, fragile and thin, yet +keen enough to run a man through. The power of it, in a word, was out of +all measure with the slightness of the face.... Then the face dropped; +and Marjorie watched the back of the head bending this way and that, +till the nodding heads that followed hid it from sight. + +Marjorie drew a deep breath and turned. The faces of her friends were as +pale and intent as her own. Only the priest was as easy as ever. + +"So that is our Eliza," he said. + +Then he did a strange thing. + +He lifted his cap once more with grave seriousness. "God save her +Grace!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +Robin bowed to her very carefully, and stood upright again. + + * * * * * + +She had seen in an instant how changed he was, in that swift instant in +which her eyes had singled him out from the little crowd of men that had +come into the room with Anthony at their head. It was a change which she +could scarcely have put into words, unless she had said that it was the +conception of the Levite within his soul. He was dressed soberly and +richly, with a sword at his side, in great riding-boots splashed to the +knees with mud, with his cloak thrown back; and he carried his great +brimmed hat in his hand. All this was as it might have been in Derby, +though, perhaps, his dress was a shade more dignified than that in which +she had ever seen him. But the change was in his face and bearing; he +bore himself like a man, and a restrained man; and there was besides +that subtle air which her woman's eyes could see, but which even her +woman's wit could not properly describe. + +She made room for him to sit beside her; and then Father Campion's voice +spoke: + +"These are the gentlemen, then," he said. "And two more are not yet +come. Gentlemen--" he bowed. "And which is Captain Fortescue?" + +A big man, distinguished from the rest by a slightly military air, and +by a certain vividness of costume and a bristling feather in his hat, +bowed back to him. + +"We have met once before, Mr.--Mr. Edmonds," he said. "At Valladolid." + +Father Campion smiled. + +"Yes, sir; for five or ten minutes; and I was in the same room with your +honour once at the Duke of Guise's.... And now, sir, who are the rest of +your company?" + +The others were named one by one; and Marjorie eyed each of them +carefully. It was her business to know them again if ever they should +meet in the north; and for a few minutes the company moved here and +there, bowing and saluting, and taking their seats. There were still a +couple of men who were not yet come; but these two arrived a few minutes +later; and it was not until she had said a word or two to them all, and +Father Campion had named her and her good works, to them, that she found +herself back again with Robin in a seat a little apart. + +"You look very well," she said, with an admirable composure. + +His eyes twinkled. + +"I am as weary as a man can be," he said. "We have ridden since before +dawn.... And you, and your good works?" + +Marjorie explained, describing to him something of the system by which +priests were safeguarded now in the north--the districts into which the +county was divided, and the apportioning of the responsibilities among +the faithful houses. It was her business, she said, to receive messages +and to pass them on; she had entertained perhaps a dozen priests since +the summer; perhaps she would entertain him, too, one day, she said. + + * * * * * + +The ordeal was far lighter than she had feared it would be. There was a +strong undercurrent of excitement in her heart, flushing her cheeks and +sparkling in her eyes; yet never for one moment was she even tempted to +forget that he was now vowed to God. It seemed to her as if she talked +with him in the spirit of that place where there is neither marrying nor +giving in marriage. Those two years of quiet in the north, occupied, +even more than she recognised, in the rearranging of her relations with +the memory of this young man, had done their work. She still kindled at +his presence; but it was at the presence of one who had undertaken an +adventure that destroyed altogether her old relations with him.... She +was enkindled even more by the sense of her own security; and, as she +looked at him, by the sense of his security too. Robin was gone; here, +instead, was young Mr. Audrey, seminary student, who even in a court of +law could swear before God that he was not a priest, nor had been +"ordained beyond the seas." + +So they sat and exchanged news. She told him of the rumours of his +father that had come to her from time to time; he would be a magistrate +yet, it was said, so hot was his loyalty. Even her Grace, it was +reported, had vowed she wished she had a thousand such country gentlemen +on whose faithfulness she could depend. And Robin gave her news of the +seminary, of the hours of rising and sleeping, of the sports there; of +the confessors for the faith who came and went; of Dr. Allen. He told +her, too, of Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam; he often had talked with them +of Derbyshire, he said. It was very peaceful and very stirring, too, to +sit here in the lighted parlour, and hear and give the news; while the +company, gathered round Anthony and Father Campion, talked in low +voices, and Mistress Babington, placid, watched them and listened. He +showed her, too, Mr. Maine's beads which she had given him so long ago, +hung in a little packet round his neck. + + * * * * * + +More than once, as they talked, Marjorie found herself looking at Mr. +Ballard, or, as he was called here, Captain Fortescue. It was he who +seemed the leader of the troop; and, indeed, as Robin told her in a +whisper, that was what he was. He came and went frequently, he said; his +manner and his carriage were reassuring to the suspicious; he appeared, +perhaps, the last man in the world to be a priest. He was a big man, as +has been said; and he had a frank assured way with him; he was leaning +forward, even now, as she looked at him, and seemed laying down the law, +though in what was almost a whisper. Father Campion was watching him, +too, she noticed; and, what she had learned of Father Campion in the +last few hours led her to wonder whether there was not something of +doubtfulness in his opinion of him. + +Father Campion suddenly shook his head sharply. + +"I am not of that view at all," he said. "I--" + +And once more his voice sank so low as to be inaudible; as the rest +leaned closer about him. + + +II + +Mr. Anthony Babington seemed silent and even a little displeased when, +half an hour later, the visitors were all gone downstairs to supper. +Three or four of them were to sleep in the house; the rest, of whom +Robin was one, had Captain Fortescue's instructions as to where lodgings +were prepared. But the whole company was tired out with the long ride +from the coast, and would be seen no more that night. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie knew enough of the divisions of opinion among Catholics, and of +Mr. Babington in particular, to have a general view as to why her +companion was displeased; but more than that she did not know, nor what +point in particular it was on which the argument had run. The one +party--of Mr. Babington's kind--held that Catholics were, morally, in a +state of war. War had been declared upon them, without justification, +by the secular authorities, and physical instruments, including +pursuivants and the rack, were employed against them. Then why should +not they, too, employ the same kind of instruments, if they could, in +return? The second party held that a religious persecution could not be +held to constitute a state of war; the Apostles Peter and Paul, for +example, not only did not employ the arm of flesh against the Roman +Empire, but actually repudiated it. And this party further held that +even the Pope's bull, relieving Elizabeth's subjects from their +allegiance, did so only in an interior sense--in such a manner that +while they must still regard her personal and individual rights--such +rights as any human being possessed--they were not bound to render +interior loyalty to her as their Queen, and need not, for example +(though they were not forbidden to do so), regard it as a duty to fight +for her, in the event, let us say, of an armed invasion from Spain. + +There, then, was the situation; and Mr. Anthony had, plainly, crossed +swords this evening on the point. + +"The Jesuit is too simple," he said suddenly, as he strode about. "I +think--" He broke off. + +His sister smiled upon him placidly. + +"You are too hot, Anthony," she said. + +The man turned sharply towards her. + +"All the praying in the world," he said, "has not saved us so far. It +seems to me time--" + +"Perhaps our Lord would not have us saved," she said; "as you mean it." + + +III + +It was not until Christmas Eve that Marjorie went to St. Paul's, for all +that it was so close. But the days were taken up with the visitors; a +hundred matters had to be arranged; for it was decided that before the +New Year all were to be dispersed. Captain Fortescue and Robin were to +leave again for the Continent on the day following Christmas Day itself. + +Marjorie made acquaintance during these days with more than one +meeting-place of the Catholics in London. One was a quiet little house +near St. Bartholomew's-the-Great, where a widow had three or four sets +of lodgings, occupied frequently by priests and by other Catholics, who +were best out of sight; and it was here that mass was to be said on +Christmas Day. Another was in the Spanish Embassy; and here, to her joy, +she looked openly upon a chapel of her faith, and from the gallery +adored her Lord in the tabernacle. But even this was accomplished with +an air of uneasiness in those round her; the Spanish priest who took +them in walked quickly and interrupted them before they were done, and +seemed glad to see the last of them. It was explained to Marjorie that +the ambassador did not wish to give causeless offence to the Protestant +court. + +And now, on Christmas Eve, Robin, Anthony and the two ladies entered the +Cathedral as dusk was falling--first passing through the burial-ground, +over the wall of which leaned the rows of houses in whose windows lights +were beginning to burn. + +The very dimness of the air made the enormous heights of the great +church more impressive. Before them stretched the long nave, over seven +hundred feet from end to end; from floor to roof the eye travelled up +the bunches of slender pillars to the dark ceiling, newly restored after +the fire, a hundred and fifty feet. The tall windows on either side, and +the clerestory lights above, glimmered faintly in the darkening light. + +But to the Catholic eyes that looked on it the desolation was more +apparent than the splendour. There were plenty of people here, indeed: +groups moved up and down, talking, directing themselves more and more +towards the exits, as the night was coming on and the church would be +closed presently; in one aisle a man was talking aloud, as if lecturing, +with a crowd of heads about him. In another a number of soberly dressed +men were putting up their papers and ink on the little tables that stood +in a row--this was Scriveners' Corner, she was told; from a third half a +dozen persons were dejectedly moving away--these were servants that had +waited to be hired. But the soul of the place was gone. When they came +out into the transepts, Anthony stopped them with a gesture, while a +couple of porters, carrying boxes on their heads, pushed by, on their +short cut through the cathedral. + +"It was there," he said, "that the altars stood." + +He pointed between the pillars on either side, and there, up little +raised steps, lay the floors of the chapels. But within all was empty, +except for a tomb or two, some tattered colours and the _piscinæ_ still +in place. Where the altars had stood there were blank spaces of wall; +piled up in one such place were rows of wooden seats set there for want +of room. + +Opposite the entrance to the choir, where once overhead had hung the +great Rood, the four stood and looked in, through a gap which the masons +were mending in the high wall that had bricked off the chancel from the +nave. On either side, as of old, still rose up the towering carven +stalls; the splendid pavement still shone beneath, refracting back from +its surface the glimmer of light from the stained windows above; but the +head of the body was gone. Somewhere, beneath the deep shadowed altar +screen, they could make out an erection that might have been an altar, +only they knew that it was not. It was no longer the Stone of +Sacrifice, whence the smoke of the mystical Calvary ascended day by +day: it was the table, and no more, where bread and wine were eaten and +drunk in memory of an event whose deathless energy had ceased, in this +place, at least, to operate. Yet it was here, thought Marjorie, that +only forty years ago, scarcely more than twenty years before she was +born, on this very Night, the great church had hummed and vibrated with +life. Round all the walls had sat priests, each in his place; and beside +each kneeled a penitent, making ready for the joy of Bethlehem once +again--wise and simple--Shepherds and Magi--yet all simple before the +baffling and entrancing Mystery. There had been footsteps and voices +there too--yet of men who were busy upon their Father's affairs in their +Father's house, and not upon their own. They were going from altar to +altar, speaking with their Friends at Court; and here, opposite where +she stood and peeped in the empty cold darkness, there had burned lights +before the Throne of Him Who had made Heaven and earth, and did His +Father's Will on earth as it was done in Heaven.... Forty years ago the +life of this church was rising on this very night, with a hum as of an +approaching multitude, from hour to hour, brightening and quickening as +it came, up to the glory of the Midnight Mass, the crowded church, +alight from end to end, the smell of bog and bay in the air, soon to be +met and crowned by the savour of incense-smoke; and the world of spirit, +too, quickened about them; and the angels (she thought) came down from +Heaven, as men up from the City round about, to greet Him who is King of +both angels and men. + +And now, in this new England, the church, empty of the Divine Presence, +was emptying, too, of its human visitors. She could hear great doors +somewhere crash together, and the reverberation roll beneath the stone +vaulting. It would empty soon, desolate and dark; and so it would be +all night.... Why did not the very stones cry out? + +Mistress Alice touched her on the arm. + +"We must be going," she said. "They are closing the church." + + +IV + +She had a long talk with Robin on Christmas night. + +The day had passed, making strange impressions on her, which she could +not understand. Partly it was the contrast between the homely +associations of the Feast, begun, as it was for her, with the mass +before dawn--the room at the top of the widow's house was crowded all +the while she was there--between these associations and the +unfamiliarity of the place. She had felt curiously apart from all that +she saw that day in the streets--the patrolling groups, the singers, the +monstrous-headed mummers (of whom companies went about all day), two or +three glimpses of important City festivities, the garlands that +decorated many of the houses. It seemed to her as a shadow-show without +sense or meaning, since the heart of Christmas was gone. Partly, too, no +doubt, it was the memory of a former Christmas, three years ago, when +she had begun to understand that Robin loved her. And he was with her +again; yet all that he had stood for, to her, was gone, and another +significance had taken its place. He was nearer to her heart, in one +manner, though utterly removed, in another. It was as when a friend was +dead: his familiar presence is gone; but now that one physical barrier +is vanished, his presence is there, closer than ever, though in another +fashion.... + + * * * * * + +Robin had come in to sup. Captain Fortescue would fetch him about nine +o'clock, and the two were to ride for the coast before dawn. + +The four sat quiet after supper, speaking in subdued voices, of hopes +for the future, when England should be besieged, indeed, by the +spiritual forces that were gathering overseas; but they slipped +gradually into talk of the past and of Derbyshire, and of rides they +remembered. Then, after a while, Anthony was called away; Mistress Alice +moved back to the table to see her needlework the better, and Robin and +Marjorie sat together by the fire. + + * * * * * + +He told her again of the journey from Rheims, of the inns where they +lodged, of the extraordinary care that was taken, even in that Catholic +land, that no rumour of the nature of the party should slip out, lest +some gossip precede them or even follow them to the coast of England. +They carried themselves even there, he said, as ordinary gentlemen +travelling together; two of them were supposed to be lawyers; he himself +passed as Mr. Ballard's servant. They heard mass when they could in the +larger towns, but even then not all together. + +The landing in England had been easier, he said, than he had thought, +though he had learned afterwards that a helpful young man, who had +offered to show him to an inn in Folkestone, and in whose presence Mr. +Ballard had taken care to give him a good rating for dropping a +bag--with loud oaths--was a well-known informer. However, no harm was +done: Mr. Ballard's admirable bearing, and his oaths in particular, had +seemed to satisfy the young man, and he had troubled them no more. + +Marjorie did not say much. She listened with a fierce attention, so much +interested that she was scarcely aware of her own interest; she looked +up, half betrayed into annoyance, when a placid laugh from Mistress +Alice at the table showed that another was listening too. + +She too, then, had to give her news, and to receive messages for the +Derbyshire folk whom Robin wished to greet; and it was not until +Mistress Alice slipped out of the room that she uttered a word of what +she had been hoping all day she might have an opportunity to say. + +"Mr. Audrey," she said (for she was careful to use this form of +address), "I wish you to pray for me. I do not know what to do." + +He was silent. + +"At present," she said, gathering courage, "my duty is clear. I must be +at home, for my mother's sake, if for nothing else. And, as I told you, +I think I shall be able to do something for priests. But if my mother +died--" + +"Yes?" he said, as she stopped again. + +She glanced up at his serious, deep-eyed face, half in shadow and half +in light, so familiar, and yet so utterly apart from the boy she had +known. + +"Well," she said, "I think of you as a priest already, and I can speak +to you freely.... Well, I am not sure whether I, too, shall not go +overseas, to serve God better." + +"You mean--" + +"Yes. A dozen or more are gone from Derbyshire, whose names I know. Some +are gone to Bruges; two or three to Rome; two or three more to Spain. We +women cannot do what priests can, but, at least, we can serve God in +Religion." + +She looked at him again, expecting an answer. She saw him move his head, +as if to answer. Then he smiled suddenly. + +"Well, however you look at me, I am not a priest.... You had best speak +to one--Father Campion or another." + +"But--" + +"And I will pray for you," he said with an air of finality. + +Then Mistress Alice came back. + + * * * * * + +She never forgot, all her life long, the little scene that took place +when Captain Fortescue came in with Mr. Babington, to fetch Robin away. +Yet the whole of its vividness rose from its interior significance. +Externally here was a quiet parlour; two ladies--for the girl afterwards +seemed to see herself in the picture--stood by the fireplace; Mistress +Alice still held her needlework gathered up in one hand, and her spools +of thread and a pin-cushion lay on the polished table. And the two +gentlemen--for Captain Fortescue would not sit down, and Robin had risen +at his entrance--the two gentlemen stood by it. They were not in their +boots, for they were not to ride till morning; they appeared two +ordinary gentlemen, each hat-in-hand, and Robin had his cloak across his +arm. Anthony Babington stood in the shadow by the door, and, beyond him, +the girl could see the face of Dick, who had come up to say good-bye +again to his old master. + +That was all--four men and two ladies. None raised his voice, none made +a gesture. The home party spoke of the journey, and of their hopes that +all would go well; the travellers, or rather the leader (for Robin spoke +not one word, good or bad), said that he was sure it would be so; there +was not one-tenth of the difficulty in getting out of England as of +getting into it. Then, again, he said that it was late; that he had +still one or two matters to arrange; that they must be out of London as +soon as the gates opened. And the scene ended. + +Robin bowed to the two ladies, precisely and courteously; making no +difference between them, and wheeled and went out, and she saw Dick's +face, too, vanish from the door, and heard the voices of the two on the +stairs. Marjorie returned the salute of Mr. Ballard, longing to entreat +him to take good care of the boy, yet knowing that she must not and +could not. + +Then he, too, was gone, with Anthony to see him downstairs; and +Marjorie, without a word, went straight through to her room, fearing to +trust her own voice, for she felt that her heart was gone with them. +Yet, not for one moment did even her sensitive soul distrust any more +the nature of the love that she bore to the lad. + +But Mistress Alice sat down again to her sewing. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +Marjorie was sitting in her mother's room, while her mother slept. She +had been reading aloud from a bundle of letters--news from Rheims; but +little by little she had seen sleep come down on her mother's face, and +had let her voice trail away into silence. And so she sat quiet. + + * * * * * + +It seemed incredible that nearly a year had passed since her visit to +London, and that Christmas was upon them again. Yet in this remote +country place there was little to make time run slowly: the country-side +wheeled gently through the courses of the year; the trees put on their +green robes, changed them for russet and dropped them again; the dogs +and the horses grew a little older, a beast died now and again, and +others were born. The faces that she knew, servants and farmers, aged +imperceptibly. Here and there a family moved away, and another into its +place; an old man died and his son succeeded him, but the mother and +sisters lived on in the house in patriarchal fashion. Priests came and +went again unobserved; Marjorie went to the sacraments when she could, +and said her prayers always. But letters came more frequently than ever +to the little remote manor, carried now by some farm-servant, now left +by strangers, now presented as credentials; and Booth's Edge became +known in that underworld of the north, which finds no record in history, +as a safe place for folks in trouble for their faith. For one whole +month in the summer there had been a visitor at the house--a cousin of +old Mr. Manners, it was understood; and, except for the Catholics in +the place, not a soul knew him for a priest, against whom the hue and +cry still raged in York. + +Derbyshire, indeed, had done well for the old Religion. Man after man +went in these years southwards and was heard of no more, till there came +back one day a gentleman riding alone, or with his servant; and it +became known that one more Derbyshire man was come again to his own +place to minister to God's people. Mr. Ralph Sherwine was one of them; +Mr. Christopher Buxton another; and Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Garlick, it was +rumoured, would not be long now.... And there had been a wonderful +cessation of trouble, too. Not a priest had suffered since the two, the +news of whose death she had heard two years ago. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie, then, sitting quiet over the fire that burned now all the +winter in her mother's room, was thinking over these things. + +She had had more news from London from time to time, sent on to her +chiefly by Mr. Babington, though none had come to her since the summer, +and she had singled out in particular all that bore upon Father Campion. +There was no doubt that the hunt was hotter every month; yet he seemed +to bear a charmed life. Once he had escaped, she had heard, through the +quick wit of a servant-maid, who had pushed him suddenly into a +horse-pond, as the officers actually came in sight, so that he came out +all mud and water-weed; and had been jeered at for a clumsy lover by the +very men who were on his trail.... Marjorie smiled to herself as she +nursed her knee over the fire, and remembered his gaiety and sharpness. + +Robin, too, was never very far from her thoughts. In some manner she put +the two together in her mind. She wondered whether they would ever +travel together. It was her hope that her old friend might become +another Campion himself some day. + +A log rolled from its place in the fire, scattering sparks. She stooped +to put it back, glancing first at the bed to see if her mother were +disturbed; and, as she sat back again, she heard the blowing of a horse +and a man's voice, fierce and low, from beyond the windows, bidding the +beast hold himself up. + +She was accustomed now to such arrivals. They came and went like this, +often without warning; it was her business to look at any credentials +they bore with them, and then, if all were well, to do what she +could-whether to set them on their way, or to give them shelter. A room +was set aside now, in the further wing, and called openly and freely the +"priest's room,"--so great was their security. + +She got up from her seat and went out quickly on tiptoe as she heard a +door open and close beneath her in the house, running over in her mind +any preparations that she would have to make if the rider were one that +needed shelter. + +As she looked down the staircase, she saw a maid there, who had run out +from the buttery, talking to a man whom she thought she knew. Then he +lifted his face, and she saw that she was right: and that it was Mr. +Babington. + +She came down, reassured and smiling; but her breath caught in her +throat as she saw his face.... She told the maid to be off and get +supper ready, but he jerked his head in refusal. She saw that he could +hardly speak. Then she led him into the hall, taking down the lantern +that hung in the passage, and placing it on the table. But her hand +shook in spite of herself. + +"Tell me," she whispered. + +He sat down heavily on a bench. + +"It is all over," he said. "The bloody murderers!... They were gibbeted +three days ago." + +The girl drew a long, steady breath. All her heart cried "Robin." + +"Who are they, Mr. Babington?" + +"Why, Campion and Sherwine and Brian. They were taken a month or two +ago.... I had heard not a word of it, and ... and it ended three days +ago." + +"I ... I do not understand." + +The man struck his hand heavily on the long table against which he +leaned. He appeared one flame of fury; courtesy and gentleness were all +gone from him. + +"They were hanged for treason, I tell you.... Treason! ... Campion!... +By God! we will give them treason if they will have it so!" + +All seemed gone from Marjorie except the white, splashed face that +stared at her, lighted up by the lantern beside him, glaring from the +background of darkness. It was not Robin ... not Robin ... yet-- + +The shocking agony of her face broke through the man's heart-broken +fury, and he stood up quickly. + +"Mistress Marjorie," he said, "forgive me.... I am like a madman. I am +on my way from Derby, where the news came to me this afternoon. I turned +aside to tell you. They say the truce, as they call it, is at an end. I +came to warn you. You must be careful. I am riding for London. My men +are in the valley. Mistress Marjorie--" + +She waved him aside. The blood was beginning again to beat swiftly and +deafeningly in her ears, and the word came back. + +"I ... I was shocked," she said; "... you must pardon me.... Is it +certain?" + +He tore out a bundle of papers from behind his cloak, detached one with +shaking hands and thrust it before her. + +She sat down and spread it on the table. But his voice broke in and +interrupted her all the while. + +"They were all three taken together, in the summer.... I ... have been +in France; my letters never reached me.... They were racked +continually.... They died all together; praying for the Queen ... at +Tyburn.... Campion died the first...." + +She pushed the paper from her; the close handwriting was no more to her +than black marks on the paper. She passed her hands over her forehead +and eyes. + +"Mistress Marjorie, you look like death. See, I will leave the paper +with you. It is from one of my friends who was there...." + +The door was pushed open, and the servant came in, bearing a tray. + +"Set it down," said Marjorie, as coolly as if death and horror were as +far from her as an hour ago. + +She nodded sharply to the maid, who went out again; then she rose and +spread the food within the man's reach. He began to eat and drink, +talking all the time. + + * * * * * + +As she sat and watched him and listened, remembering afterwards, as if +mechanically, all that he said, she was contemplating something else. +She seemed to see Campion, not as he had been three days ago, not as he +was now ... but as she had seen him in London--alert, brisk, quick. Even +the tones of his voice were with her, and the swift merry look in his +eyes.... Somewhere on the outskirts of her thought there hung other +presences: the darkness, the blood, the smoking cauldron.... Oh! she +would have to face these presently; she would go through this night, she +knew, looking at all their terror. But just now let her remember him as +he had been; let her keep off all other thoughts so long as she +could.... + + +II + +When she had heard the horse's footsteps scramble down the little steep +ascent in the dark, and then pass into silence on the turf beyond, she +closed the outer door, barred it once more, and then went back straight +into the hall, where the lantern still burned among the plates. She +dared not face her mother yet; she must learn how far she still held +control of herself; for her mother must not hear the news: the +apothecary from Derby who had ridden up to see her this week had been +very emphatic. So the girl must be as usual. There must be no sign of +discomposure. To-night, at least, she would keep her face in the shadow. +But her voice? Could she control that too? + +After she had sat motionless in the cold hall a minute or two, she +tested herself. + +"He is dead," she said softly. "He is quite dead, and so are the others. +They--" + +But she could not go on. Great shuddering seized on her; she shook from +head to foot.... + +Later that night Mrs. Manners awoke. She tried to move her head, but the +pain was shocking, and still half asleep, she moaned aloud. + +Then the curtains moved softly, and she could see that a face was +looking at her. + +"Margy! Is that you?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"Move my head; move my head. I cannot bear--" + +She felt herself lifted gently and strongly. The struggle and the pain +exhausted her for a minute, and she lay breathing deeply. Then the ease +of the shifted position soothed her. + +"I cannot see your face," she said. "Where is the light?" + +The face disappeared, and immediately, through the curtains, the mother +saw the light. But still she could not see the girl's face. She said so +peevishly. + +"It will weary your eyes. Lie still, mother, and go to sleep again." + +"What time is it?" + +"I do not know." + +"Are you not in bed?" + +"Not yet, mother." + +The sick woman moaned again once or twice, but thought no more of it. +And presently the deep sleep of sickness came down on her again. + + * * * * * + +They rose early in those days in England; and soon after six o'clock, as +Janet had seen nothing of her young mistress, she opened the door of the +sleeping-room and peeped in.... A minute later Marjorie's mind rose up +out of black gulfs of sleep, in which, since her falling asleep an hour +or two ago, she had wandered, bearing an intolerable burden, which she +could neither see nor let fall, to find the rosy-streaked face of Janet, +all pinched with cold, peering into her own. She sat up, wide awake, yet +with all her world still swaying about her, and stared into her maid's +eyes. + +"What is it? What time is it?" + +"It is after six, mistress. And the mistress seems uneasy. I--" + +Marjorie sprang up and went to the bed. + + +III + +On the evening of that day her mother died. + + * * * * * + +There was no priest within reach. A couple of men had ridden out early, +dispatched by Marjorie within half an hour of her awaking--to Dethick, +to Hathersage, and to every spot within twenty miles where a priest +might be found, with orders not to return without one. But the long day +had dragged out: and when dusk was falling, still neither had come back. +The country was rain-soaked and all but impassable, she learned later, +across valley after valley, where the streams had risen. And nowhere +could news be gained that any priest was near; for, as a further +difficulty, open inquiry was not always possible, in view of the news +that had come to Booth's Edge last night. The girl had understood that +the embers were rising again to flame in the south; and who could tell +but that a careless word might kindle the fire here, too. She had been +urged by Anthony to hold herself more careful than ever, and she had +been compelled to warn her messengers. + + * * * * * + +It was soon after dusk had fallen--the heavy dusk of a December +day--that her mother had come back again to consciousness. She opened +her eyes wearily, coming back, as Marjorie had herself that morning, +from that strange realm of heavy and deathly sleep, to the pale phantom +world called "life"; and agonising pain about the heart stabbed her wide +awake. + +"O Jesu!" she screamed. + +Then she heard her daughter's voice, very steady and plain, in her ear. + +"There is no priest, mother dear. Listen to me." + +"I cannot! I cannot!... Jesu!" + +Her eyes closed again for torment, and the sweat ran down her face. The +slow poison that had weighted and soaked her limbs so gradually these +many months past, was closing in at last upon her heart, and her pain +was gathering to its last assault. The silent, humorous woman was +changed into one twitching, uncontrolled incarnation of torture. + +Then again the voice began: + +"Jesu, Who didst die for love of me--upon the Cross--let me die--for +love of Thee." + +"Christ!" moaned the woman more softly. + +"Say it in your heart, after me. There is no priest. So God will accept +your sorrow instead. Now then--" + +Then the old words began--the old acts of sorrow and love and faith and +hope, that mother and daughter had said together, night after night, for +so many years. Over and over again they came, whispered clear and sharp +by the voice in her ear; and she strove to follow them. Now and again +the pain closed its sharp hands upon her heart so cruelly that all that +on which she strove to fix her mind, fled from her like a mist, and she +moaned or screamed, or was silent with her teeth clenched upon her lip. + +"My God--I am very sorry--that I have offended Thee." + +"Why is there no priest?... Where is the priest?" + +"Mother, dear, listen. I have sent for a priest ... but none has come. +You remember now?... You remember that priests are forbidden now--" + +"Where is the priest?" + +"Mother, dear. Three priests were put to death only three days ago in +London--for ... for being priests. Ask them to pray for you.... Say, +Edmund Campion pray for me. Perhaps ... perhaps--" + +The girl's voice died away. + +For, for a full minute, an extraordinary sensation rested on her. It +began with a sudden shiver of the flesh, as sharp and tingling as water, +dying away in long thrills amid her hair--that strange advertisement +that tells the flesh that more than flesh is there, and that the world +of spirit is not only present, but alive and energetic. Then, as it +passed, the whole world, too, passed into silence. The curtains that +shook just now hung rigid as sheets of steel; the woman in the bed lay +suddenly still, then smiled with closed eyes. The pair of maids, +kneeling out of sight beyond the bed, ceased to sob; and, while the +seconds went by, as real as any knowledge can be in which the senses +have no part, the certain knowledge deepened upon the girl who knelt, +arrested in spite of herself, that a priestly presence was here +indeed.... + +Very slowly, as if lifting great weights, she raised her eyes, knowing +that there, across the tumbled bed, where the darkness of the room +showed between the parted curtains, the Presence was poised. Yet there +was nothing there to see--no tortured, smoke-stained, throttling +face--ah! that could not be--but neither was there the merry, kindly +face, with large cheerful eyes and tender mouth smiling; no hand held +the curtains that the face might peer in. Neither then nor at any time +in all her life did Marjorie believe that she saw him; yet neither then +nor in all her life did she doubt he had been there while her mother +died. + +Again her mother smiled--and this time she opened her eyes to the full, +and there was no dismay in them, nor fear, nor disappointment; and she +looked a little to her left, where the parted curtains showed the +darkness of the room.... + +Then Marjorie closed her eyes, and laid her head on the bed where her +mother's body sank back and down into the pillows. Then the girl +slipped heavily to the floor, and the maids sprang up screaming. + + +IV + +It was not till two hours later that Mr. Simpson arrived. He had been +found at last at Hathersage, only a few miles away, as one of the men, +on his return ride, had made one last inquiry before coming home; and +there he ran into the priest himself in the middle of the street. The +priest had taken the man's horse and pushed on as well as he could +through the dark, in the hopes he might yet be in time. + +Marjorie came to him in the parlour downstairs. She nodded her head +slowly and gravely. + +"It is over," she said; and sat down. + +"And there was no priest?" + +She said nothing. + +She was in her house-dress, with the hood drawn over her head as it was +a cold night. He was amazed at her look of self-control; he had thought +to find her either collapsed or strainedly tragic: he had wondered as he +came how he would speak to her, how he would soothe her, and he saw +there was no need. + +She told him presently of the sudden turn for the worse early that +morning as she herself fell asleep by the bedside; and a little of what +had passed during the day. Then she stopped short as she approached the +end. + +"Have you heard the news from London?" she said. "I mean, of our priests +there?" + +His young face grew troubled, and he knit his forehead. + +"They are in ward," he said; "I heard a week ago.... They will banish +them from England--they dare not do more!" + +"It is all finished," she said quietly. + +"What!" + +"They were hanged at Tyburn three days ago--the three of them together." + +He drew a hissing breath, and felt the skin of his face tingle. + +"You have heard that?" + +"Mr. Babington came to tell me last night. He left a paper with me: I +have not read it yet." + +He watched her as she drew it out and put it before him. The terror was +on him, as once or twice before in his journeyings, or as when the news +of Mr. Nelson's death had reached him--a terror which shamed him to the +heart, and which he loathed yet could not overcome. He still stared into +her pale face. Then he took the paper and began to read it. + + * * * * * + +Presently he laid it down again. The sick terror was beginning to pass; +or, rather, he was able to grip it; and he said a conventional word or +two; he could do no more. There was no exultation in his heart; nothing +but misery. And then, in despair, he left the subject. + +"And you, mistress," he said, "what will you do now? Have you no aunt or +friend--" + +"Mistress Alice Babington once said she would come and live with me--if +... when I needed it. I shall write to her. I do not know what else to +do." + +"And you will live here?" + +"Why; more than ever!" she said, smiling suddenly. "I can work in +earnest now." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +It was on a bright evening in the summer that Marjorie, with her maid +Janet, came riding down to Padley, and about the same time a young man +came walking up the track that led from Derby. In fact, the young man +saw the two against the skyline and wondered who they were. Further, +there was a group of four or five walking on the terrace below the +house, that saw both the approaching parties, and commented upon their +coming. + +To be precise, there were four persons in the group on the terrace, and +a man-servant who hung near. The four were Mr. John FitzHerbert, his son +Thomas, his son's wife, and, in the midst, leaning on Mrs. FitzHerbert's +arm, was old Sir Thomas himself, and it was for his sake that the +servant was within call, for he was still very sickly after his long +imprisonment, in spite of his occasional releases. + +Mr. John saw the visitors first. + +"Why, here is the company all arrived together," he said. "Now, if +anything hung on that--" his son broke in, uneasily. + +"You are sure of young Owen?" he said. "Our lives will all hang on him +after this." + +His father clapped him gently on the shoulder. + +"Now, now!" he said. "I know him well enough, from my lord. He hath made +a dozen such places in this county alone." + +Mr. Thomas glanced swiftly at his uncle. + +"And you have spoken with him, too, uncle?" + +The old man turned his melancholy eyes on him. + +"Yes; I have spoken with him," he said. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later Marjorie was dismounted, and was with him. She +greeted old Sir Thomas with particular respect; she had talked with him +a year ago when he was first released that he might raise his fines; and +she knew well enough that his liberty was coming to an end. In fact, he +was technically a prisoner even now; and had only been allowed to come +for a week or two from Sir Walter Aston's house before going back again +to the Fleet. + +"You are come in good time," said Sir John, smiling. + +"That is young Owen himself coming up the path." + +There was nothing particularly noticeable about the young man who a +minute later was standing before them with his cap in his hand. He was +plainly of the working class; and he had over his shoulder a bag of +tools. He was dusty up to the knees with his long tramp. Mr. John gave +him a word of welcome; and then the whole group went slowly together +back to the house, with the two men following. Sir Thomas stumbled a +little going up the two or three steps into the hall. Then they all sat +down together; the servant put a big flagon and a horn tumbler beside +the traveller, and went out, closing the doors. + +"Now, my man," said Mr. John. "Do you eat and drink while I do the +talking. I understand you are a man of your hands, and that you have +business elsewhere." + +"I must be in Lancashire by the end of the week, sir." + +"Very well, then. We have business enough for you, God knows! This is +Mistress Manners, whom you may have heard of. And after you have looked +at the places we have here--you understand me?--Mistress Manners wants +you at her house at Booth's Edge.... You have any papers?" + +Owen leaned back and drew out a paper from his bag of tools. + +"This is from Mr. Fenton, sir." + +Mr. John glanced at the address; then he turned it over and broke the +seal. He stared for a moment at the open sheet. + +"Why, it is blank!" he said. + +Owen smiled. He was a grave-looking lad of eighteen or nineteen years +old; and his face lighted up very pleasantly. + +"I have had that trick played on me before, sir, in my travels. I +understand that Catholic gentlemen do so sometimes to try the fidelity +of the messenger." + +The other laughed out loud, throwing back his head. + +"Why, that is a poor compliment!" he said. "You shall have a better one +from us, I have no doubt." + +Mr. Thomas leaned over the table and took the paper. He examined it very +carefully; then he handed it back. His father laughed again as he took +it. + +"You are very cautious, my son," he said. "But it is wise enough.... +Well, then," he went on to the carpenter, "you are willing to do this +work for us? And as for payment--" + +"I ask only my food and lodging," said the lad quietly; "and enough to +carry me on to the next place." + +"Why--" began the other in a protest. + +"No, sir; no more than that...." He paused an instant. "I hope to be +admitted to the Society of Jesus this year or next." + +There was a pause of astonishment. And then old Sir Thomas' deep voice +broke in. + +"You do very well, sir. I heartily congratulate you. And I would I were +twenty years younger myself...." + + +II + +After supper that night the entire party went upstairs to the chapel. + +Young Hugh Owen even already was beginning to be known among Catholics, +for his extraordinary skill in constructing hiding-holes. Up to the +present not much more had been attempted than little secret recesses +where the vessels of the altar and the vestments might be concealed. But +the young carpenter had been ingenious enough in two or three houses to +which he had been called, to enlarge these so considerably that even two +or three men might be sheltered in them; and, now that it seemed as if +the persecution of recusants was to break out again, the idea began to +spread. Mr. John FitzHerbert while in London had heard of his skill, and +had taken means to get at the young man, for his own house at Padley. + + * * * * * + +Owen was already at work when the party came upstairs. He had supped +alone, and, with a servant to guide him, had made the round of the +house, taking measurements in every possible place. He was seated on the +floor as they came in; three or four panels lay on the ground beside +him, and a heap of plaster and stones. + +He looked up as they came in. + +"This will take me all night, sir," he said. "And the fire must be put +out below." + +He explained his plan. The old hiding-place was but a poor affair; it +consisted of a space large enough for only one man, and was contrived by +a section of the wall having been removed, all but the outer row of +stones made thin for the purpose; the entrance to it was through a tall +sliding panel on the inside of the chapel. Its extreme weakness as a +hiding-hole lay in the fact that anyone striking on the panel could not +fail to hear how hollow it rang. This he proposed to do away with, +unless, indeed, he left a small space for the altar vessels; and to +construct instead a little chamber in the chimney of the hall that was +built against this wall; he would contrive it so that an entrance was +still from the chapel, as well as one that he would make over the hearth +below; and that the smoke should be conducted round the little enclosed +space, passing afterwards up the usual vent. The chamber would be large +enough, he thought, for at least two men. He explained, too, his method +of deadening the hollowness of the sound if the panel were knocked upon, +by placing pads of felt on struts of wood that would be set against the +panel-door. + +"Why, that is very shrewd!" cried Mr. John. He looked round the faces +for approval. + +For an hour or so, the party sat and watched him at his work; and +Marjorie listened to their talk. It was of that which filled the hearts +of all Catholics at this time; of the gathering storm in England, of the +priests that had been executed this very year--Mr. Paine at Chelmsford, +in March; Mr. Forde, Mr. Shert and Mr. Johnson, at Tyburn in May, the +first of the three having been taken with Father Campion at +Lyford--deaths that were followed two days later by the execution of +four more--one of whom, Mr. Filbie, had also been arrested at Lyford. +And there were besides a great number more in prison--Mr. Cottam, it was +known, had been taken at York, scarcely a week ago, and, it was said, +would certainly suffer before long. + +They talked in low voices; for the shadow was on all their hearts. It +had been possible almost to this very year to hope that the misery would +be a passing one; but the time for hope was gone. It remained only to +bear what came, to multiply priests, and, if necessary, martyrs, and +meantime to take such pains for protection as they could. + +"He will be a clever pursuivant who finds this one out," said Mr. John. + +The carpenter looked up from his work. + +"But a clever one will find it," he said. + +Mr. Thomas was heard to sigh. + + +III + +It was on the afternoon of the following day that Marjorie rode up to +her house with Janet beside her, and Hugh Owen walking by her horse. + +He had finished his work at Padley an hour or two after dawn--for he +worked at night when he could, and had then gone to rest. But he had +been waiting for her when her horses were brought, and asked if he might +walk with her; he had asked it simply and easily, saying that it might +save his losing his way, and time was precious to him. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie felt very much interested by this lad, for he was no more than +that. In appearance he was like any of his kind, with a countryman's +face, in a working-dress: she might have seen him by chance a hundred +times and not known him again. But his manner was remarkable, so wholly +simple and well-bred: he was courteous always, as suited his degree; but +he had something of the same assurance that she had noticed so plainly +in Father Campion. (He talked with a plain, Northern dialect.) + +Presently she opened on that very point; for she could talk freely +before Janet. + +"Did you ever know Father Campion?" she asked. + +"I have never spoken with him, mistress. I have heard him preach. It was +that which put it in my heart to join the company." + +"You heard him preach?" + +"Yes, mistress; three or four times in Essex and Hertfordshire. I heard +him preach upon the young man who came to our Saviour." + +"Tell me," she said, looking down at what she could see of his face. + +"It was liker an angel than a man," he said quietly. "I could not take +my eyes off him from his first word to the last. And all were the same +that were there." + +"Was he eloquent?" + +"Aye; you might call it that. But I thought it to be the Spirit of God." + +"And it was then you made up your mind to join the Society?" + +"There was no rest for me till I did. 'And Christ also went away +sorrowful,' were his last words. And I could not bear to think that." + +Marjorie was silent through pure sympathy. This young man spoke a +language she understood better than that which some of her friends +used--Mr. Babington, for instance. It was the Person of Jesus Christ +that was all her religion to her; it was for this that she was devout, +that she went to mass and the sacraments when she could; it was this +that made Mary dear to her. Was He not her son? And, above all, it was +for this that she had sacrificed Robin: she could not bear that he +should not serve Him as a priest, if he might. But the other talk that +she had heard sometimes--of the place of religion in politics, and the +justification of this or that course of public action--well, she knew +that these things must be so; yet it was not the manner of her own most +intimate thought, and the language of it was not hers. + +The two went together so a few paces, without speaking. Then she had a +sudden impulse. + +"And do you ever think of what may come upon you?" she asked. "Do you +ever think of the end? + +"Aye," he said. + +"And what do you think the end will be?" + +She saw him raise his eyes to her an instant. + +"I think," he said, "that I shall die for my faith some day." + +That same strange shiver that passed over her at her mother's bedside, +passed over her again, as if material things grew thin about her. There +was a tone in his voice that made it absolutely clear to her that he was +not speaking of a fancy, but of some certain knowledge that he had. Yet +she dared not ask him, and she was a middle-aged woman before the news +came to her of his death upon the rack. + + +IV + +It was a sleepy-eyed young man that came into the kitchen early next +morning, where the ladies and the maids were hard at work all together +upon the business of baking. The baking was a considerable task each +week, for there were not less than twenty mouths, all told, to feed in +the hall day by day, including a widow or two that called each day for +rations; and a great part, therefore, of a mistress's time in such +houses was taken up with such things. + +Marjorie turned to him, with her arms floured to the elbow. + +"Well?" she said, smiling. + +"I have done, mistress. Will it please you to see it before I go and +sleep?" + +They had examined the house carefully last night, measuring and sounding +in the deep and thin walls alike, for there was at present no +convenience at all for a hunted man. Owen had obtained her consent to +two or three alternative proposals, and she had then left him to +himself. From her bed, that she had had prepared, with Alice +Babington's, in a loft--turning out for the night the farm-men who had +usually slept there, she had heard more than once the sound of distant +hammering from the main front of the house where her own room lay, that +had been once her mother's as well. + +The possibilities in this little manor were small. To construct a +passage, giving an exterior escape, as had been made in some houses, +would have meant here a labour of weeks, and she had told the young man +she would be content with a simple hiding-hole. Yet, although she did +not expect great things, and knew, moreover, the kind of place that he +would make, she was as excited as a child, in a grave sort of way, at +what she would see. + +He took her first into the parlour, where years ago Robin had talked +with her in the wintry sunshine. The open chimney was on the right as +they entered, and though she knew that somewhere on that same side would +be one of the two entrances that had been arranged, all the difference +she could see was that a piece of the wall-hanging that had been between +the window and the fire was gone, and that there hung in its place an +old picture painted on a panel. She looked at this without speaking: the +wall was wainscoted in oak, as it had always been, six feet up from the +floor. Then an idea came to her: she tilted the picture on one side. But +there was no more to be seen than a cracked panel, which, it seemed to +her, had once been nearer the door. She rapped upon this, but it gave +back the dull sound as of wood against stone. + +She turned to the young man, smiling. He smiled back. + +"Come into the bedroom, mistress." + +He led her in there, through the passage outside into which the two +doors opened at the head of the outside stairs; but here, too, all that +she could see was that a tall press that had once stood between the +windows now stood against the wall immediately opposite to the painted +panel on the other side of the wall. She opened the doors of the press, +but it was as it had always been: there even hung there the three or +four dresses that she had taken from it last night and laid on the bed. + +She laughed outright, and, turning, saw Mistress Alice Babington beaming +tranquilly from the door of the room. + +"Come in, Alice," she said, "and see this miracle." + +Then he began to explain it. + + * * * * * + +On this side was the entrance proper, and, as he said so, he stepped up +into the press and closed the doors. They could hear him fumbling +within, then the sound of wood sliding, and finally a muffled voice +calling to them. Marjorie flung the doors open, and, save for the +dresses, it was empty. She stared in for a moment, still hearing the +movements of someone beyond, and at last the sound of a snap; and as she +withdrew her head to exclaim to Alice, the young man walked into the +room through the open door behind her. + +Then he explained it in full. + +The back of the press had been removed, and then replaced, in such a +manner that it would slide out about eighteen inches towards the window, +but only when the doors of the press were closed; when they were opened, +they drew out simultaneously a slip of wood on either side that pulled +the sliding door tight and immovable. Behind the back of the press, thus +removed, a corresponding part of the wainscot slid in the same way, +giving a narrow doorway into the cell which he had excavated between the +double beams of the thick wall. Next, when the person that had taken +refuge was inside, with the two sliding doors closed behind him, it was +possible for him, by an extremely simple device, to turn a wooden button +and thus release a little wooden machinery which controlled a further +opening into the parlour, and which, at the same time, was braced +against the hollow panelling and one of the higher beams in such a +manner as to give it, when knocked upon, the dullness of sound the girl +had noticed just now. But this door could only be opened from within. +Neither a fugitive nor a pursuer could make any entrance from the +parlour side, unless the wainscoting itself were torn off. Lastly, the +crack in the woodwork, corresponding with two minute holes bored in the +painted panel, afforded, when the picture was hung exactly straight, a +view of the parlour that commanded nearly all the room. + +"I do not pretend that it is a fortress," said the young man, smiling +gravely. "But it may serve to keep out a country constable. And, indeed, +it is the best I can contrive in this house." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +Marjorie found it curious, even to herself, how the press that faced the +foot of the two beds where she and Alice slept side by side, became +associated in her mind with the thought of Robin; and she began to +perceive that it was largely with the thought of him in her intention +that the idea had first presented itself of having the cell constructed +at all. It was not that in her deliberate mind she conceived that he +would be hunted, that he would fly here, that she would save him; but +rather in that strange realm of consciousness which is called sometimes +the Imagination, and sometimes by other names--that inner shadow-show on +which move figures cast by the two worlds--she perceived him in this +place.... + +It was in the following winter that she was reminded of him by other +means than those of his letters. + + * * * * * + +The summer and autumn had passed tranquilly enough, so far as this +outlying corner of England was concerned. News filtered through of the +stirring world outside, and especially was there conveyed to her, +through Alice for the most part, news that concerned the fortunes of +Catholics. Politics, except in this connection, meant little enough to +such as her. She heard, indeed, from time to time vague rumours of +fighting, and of foreign Powers; and thought now and again of Spain, as +of a country that might yet be, in God's hand, an instrument for the +restoring of God's cause in England; she had heard, too, in this year, +of one more rumour of the Queen's marriage with the Duke d'Alençon, and +then of its final rupture. But these matters were aloof from her; rather +she pondered such things as the execution of two more priests at York in +August, Mr. Lacy and Mr. Kirkman, and of a third, Mr. Thompson, in +November at the same place. It was on such affairs as these that she +pondered as she went about her household business, or sat in the chamber +upstairs with Mistress Alice; and it was of these things that she talked +with the few priests that came and went from time to time in their +circuits about Derbyshire. It was a life of quietness and monotony +inconceivable by those who live in towns. Its sole incident lay in that +life which is called Interior.... + +It was soon after the New Year that she met the squire of Matstead face +to face. + + * * * * * + +She and Alice, with Janet and a man riding behind, were on their way +back from Derby, where they had gone for their monthly shopping. They +had slept at Dethick, and had had news there of Mr. Anthony, who was +again in the south on one of his mysterious missions, and started again +soon after dawn next day to reach home, if they could, for dinner. + +She knew Alice now for what she was--a woman of astounding dullness, of +sterling character, and of a complete inability to understand any shades +or tones of character or thought that were not her own, and yet a friend +in a thousand, of an immovable stability and loyalty, one of no words at +all, who dwelt in the midst of a steady kind of light which knew no dawn +nor sunset. The girl entertained herself sometimes with conceiving of +her friend confronted with the rack, let us say, or the gallows; and +perceived that she knew with exactness what her behaviour would be: She +would do all that was required of her with out speeches or protest; she +would place herself in the required positions, with a faint smile, +unwavering; she would suffer or die with the same tranquil steadiness as +that in which she lived; and, best of all, she would not be aware, even +for an instant, that anything in her behaviour was in the least +admirable or exceptional. She resembled, to Marjorie's mind, that for +which a strong and well-built arm-chair stands in relation to the body: +it is the same always, supporting and sustaining always, and cannot even +be imagined as anything else. + + * * * * * + +It was a brilliant frosty day, as they rode over the rutted track +between hedges that served for a road, that ran, for the most part, a +field or two away from the black waters of the Derwent. The birches +stood about them like frozen feathers; the vast chestnuts towered +overhead, motionless in the motionless air. As they came towards +Matstead, and, at last, rode up the street, naturally enough Marjorie +again began to think of Robin. As they came near where the track turned +the corner beneath the churchyard wall, where once Robin had watched, +himself unseen, the three riders go by, she had to attend to her horse, +who slipped once or twice on the paved causeway. Then as she lifted her +head again, she saw, not three yards from her, and on a level with her +own face, the face of the squire looking at her from over the wall. + +She had not seen him, except once in Derby, a year or two before, and +that at a distance, since Robin had left England; and at the sight she +started so violently, in some manner jerking the reins that she held, +that her horse, tired with the long ride of the day before, slipped once +again, and came down all asprawl on the stones, fortunately throwing her +clear of his struggling feet. She was up in a moment, but again sank +down, aware that her foot was in some way bruised or twisted. + +There was a clatter of hoofs behind her as the servants rode up; a +child or two ran up the street, and when, at last, on Janet's arm, she +rose again to her feet, it was to see the squire staring at her, with +his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Bring the ladies up to the house," he said abruptly to the man; and +then, taking the rein of the girl's horse that had struggled up again, +he led the way, without another word, without even turning his head, +round to the way that ran up to his gates. + + +II + +It was not with any want of emotion that Marjorie found herself +presently meekly seated upon Alice's horse, and riding up at a +foot's-pace beneath the gatehouse of the Hall. Rather it was the balance +of emotions that made her so meek and so obedient to her friend's +tranquil assumption that she must come in as the squire said. She was +aware of a strong resentment to his brusque order, as well as to the +thought that it was to the house of an apostate that she was going; yet +there was a no less strong emotion within her that he had a sort of +right to command her. These feelings, working upon her, dazed as she was +by the sudden sharpness of her fall, and the pain in her foot, combined +to drive her along in a kind of resignation in the wake of the squire. + +Still confused, yet with a rapid series of these same emotions running +before her mind, she limped up the steps, supported by Alice and her +maid, and sat down on a bench at the end of the hall. The squire, who +had shouted an order or two to a peeping domestic, as he passed up the +court, came to her immediately with a cup in his hand. + +"You must drink this at once, mistress." + +She took it at once, drank and set it down, aware of the keen, +angry-looking face that watched her. + +"You will dine here, too, mistress--" he began, still with a sharp +kindness.... And then, on a sudden, all grew dark about her; there was a +roaring in her ears, and she fainted. + + * * * * * + +She came out of her swoon again, after a while, with that strange and +innocent clearness that usually follows such a thing, to find Alice +beside her, a tapestried wall behind Alice, and the sound of a crackling +fire in her ears. Then she perceived that she was in a small room, lying +on her back along a bench, and that someone was bathing her foot. + +"I ... I will not stay here--" she began. But two hands held her firmly +down, and Alice's reassuring face was looking into her own. + + * * * * * + +When her mind ran clearly again, she sat up with a sudden movement, +drawing her foot away from Janet's ministrations. + +"I do very well," she said, after looking at her foot, and then putting +it to the ground amid a duet of protestations. (She had looked round the +room to satisfy herself that no one else was there, and had seen that it +must be the parlour that she was in. A newly-lighted fire burned on the +hearth, and the two doors were closed.) + +Then Alice explained. + +It was impossible, she said, to ride on at once; the horse even now was +being bathed in the stable, as his mistress in the parlour. The squire +had been most considerate; he had helped to carry her in here just now, +had lighted the fire with his own hands, and had stated that dinner +would be sent in here in an hour for the three women. He had offered to +send one of his own men on to Booth's Edge with the news, if Mistress +Marjorie found herself unable to ride on after dinner. + +"But ... but it is Mr. Audrey!" exclaimed Marjorie. + +"Yes, my dear," said Alice. "I know it is. But that does not mend your +foot," she said, with unusual curtness. And Marjorie saw that she still +looked at her anxiously. + + * * * * * + +The three women dined together, of course, in an hour's time. There was +no escape from the pressure of circumstance. It was unfortunate that +such an accident should have fallen out here, in the one place in all +the world where it should not; but the fact was a fact. Meanwhile, it +was not only resentment that Marjorie felt: it was a strange sort of +terror as well--a terror of sitting in the house of an apostate--of one +who had freely and deliberately renounced that faith for which she +herself lived so completely; and that it was the father of one whom she +knew as she knew Robin--with whose fate, indeed, her own had been so +intimately entwined--this combined to increase that indefinable fear +that rested on her as she stared round the walls, and sat over the food +and drink that this man provided. + +The climax came as they were finishing dinner: for the door from the +hall opened abruptly, and the squire came in. He bowed to the ladies, as +the manner was, straightening his trim, tight figure again defiantly; +asked a civil question or two; directed a servant behind him to bring +the horses to the parlour door in half an hour's time; and then snapped +out the sentence which he was, plainly, impatient to speak. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I wish to have a word with you privately." + +Marjorie, trembling at his presence, turned a wavering face to her +friend; and Alice, before the other could speak, rose up, and went out, +with Janet following. + +"Janet--" cried the girl. + +"If you please," said the old man, with such a decisive air that she +hesitated. Then she nodded at her maid; and a moment later the door +closed. + + +III + +"I have two matters to speak of," said the squire abruptly, sitting down +in the chair that Alice had left; "the first concerns you closely; and +the other less closely." + +She looked at him, summoning all her power to appear at her ease. + +He seemed far older than when she had last spoken with him, perhaps five +years ago; and had grown a little pointed beard; his hair, too, seemed +thinner--such of it as she could see beneath the house-cap that he wore; +his face, especially about his blue, angry-looking eyes, was covered +with fine wrinkles, and his hands were clearly the hands of an old man, +at once delicate and sinewy. He was in a dark suit, still with his cloak +upon him; and in low boots. He sat still as upright as ever, turned a +little in his chair, so as to clasp its back with one strong hand. + +"Yes, sir?" she said. + +"I will begin with the second first. It is of my son Robin: I wish to +know what news you have of him. He hath not written to me this six +months back. And I hear that letters sometimes come to you from him." + +Marjorie hesitated. + +"He is very well, so far as I know," she said. + +"And when is he to be made priest?" he demanded sharply. + +Marjorie drew a breath to give herself time; she knew that she must not +answer this; and did not know how to say so with civility. + +"If he has not told you himself, sir," she said, "I cannot." + +The old man's face twitched; but he kept his manners. "I understand you, +mistress...." But then his wrath overcame him. "But he must understand +he will have no mercy from me, if he comes my way. I am a magistrate, +now, mistress, and--" + +A thought like an inspiration came to the girl; and she interrupted; for +she longed to penetrate this man's armour. + +"Perhaps that was why he did not tell you when he was to be made +priest," she said. + +The other seemed taken aback. + +"Why, but--" + +"He did not wish to think that his father would be untrue to his new +commission," she said, trembling at her boldness and yet exultant too; +and taking no pains to keep the irony out of her voice. + +Again that fierce twitch of the features went over the other's face; and +he stared straight at her with narrowed eyes. Then a change again came +over him; and he laughed, like barking, yet not all unkindly. + +"You are very shrewd, mistress. But I wonder what you will think of me +when I tell you the second matter, since you will tell me no more of the +first." + +He shifted his position in his chair, this time clasping both his hands +together over the back. + +"Well; it is this in a word," he said: "It is that you had best look to +yourself, mistress. My lord Shrewsbury even knows of it." + +"Of what, if you please?" asked the girl, hoping she had not turned +white. + +"Why, of the priests that come and go hereabouts! It is all known; and +her Grace hath sent a message from the Council--" + +"What has this to do with me?" + +He laughed again. + +"Well; let us take your neighbours at Padley. They will be in trouble if +they do not look to their goings. Mr. FitzHerbert--" + +But again she interrupted him. She was determined to know how much he +knew. She had thought that she had been discreet enough, and that no +news had leaked out of her own entertaining of priests; it was chiefly +that discretion might be preserved that she had set her hands to the +work at all. With Padley so near it was thought that less suspicion +would be aroused. Her name had never yet come before the authorities, so +far as she knew. + +"But what has all this to do with me, sir?" she asked sharply. "It is +true that I do not go to church, and that I pay my fines when they are +demanded: Are there new laws, then, against the old faith?" + +She spoke with something of real bitterness. It was genuine enough; her +only art lay in her not concealing it; for she was determined to press +her question home. And, in his shrewd, compelling face, she read her +answer even before his words gave it. + +"Well, mistress; it was not of you that I meant to speak--so much as of +your friends. They are your friends, not mine. And as your friends, I +thought it to be a kindly action to send them an advertisement. If they +are not careful, there will be trouble." + +"At Padley?" + +"At Padley, or elsewhere. It is the persons that fall under the law, not +places!" + +"But, sir, you are a magistrate; and--" + +He sprang up, his face aflame with real wrath. + +"Yes, mistress; I am a magistrate: the commission hath come at last, +after six months' waiting. But I was friend to the FitzHerberts before +ever I was a magistrate, and--" + +Then she understood; and her heart went out to him. She, too, stood up, +catching at the table with a hiss of pain as she threw her weight on the +bruised foot. He made a movement towards her; but she waved him aside. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Audrey, with all my heart. I had thought that +you meant harm, perhaps, to my friends and me. But now I see--" + +"Not a word more! not a word more!" he cried harshly, with a desperate +kind of gesture. "I shall do my duty none the less when the time +comes--" + +"Sir!" she cried out suddenly. "For God's sake do not speak of +duty--there is another duty greater than that. Mr. Audrey--" + +He wheeled away from her, with a movement she could not interpret. It +might be uncontrolled anger or misery, equally. And her heart went out +to him in one great flood. + +"Mr. Audrey. It is not too late. Your son Robin--" + +Then he wheeled again; and his face was distorted with emotion. + +"Yes, my son Robin! my son Robin!... How dare you speak of him to me?... +Yes; that is it--my son Robin--my son Robin!" + +He dropped into the chair again, and his face fell upon his clasped +hands. + + +IV + +She scarcely knew how circumstances had arranged themselves up to the +time when she found herself riding away again with Alice, while a man of +Mr. Audrey's led her horse. They could not talk freely till he left +them at the place where the stony road turned to a soft track, and it +was safe going once more. Then Alice told her own side of it. + +"Yes, my dear; I heard him call out. I was walking in the hall with +Janet to keep ourselves warm. But when I ran in he was sitting down, and +you were standing. What was the matter?" + +"Alice," said the girl earnestly, "I wish you had not come in. He is +very heart-broken, I think. He would have told me more, I think. It is +about his son." + +"His son! Why, he--" + +"Yes; I know that. And he would not see him if he came back. He has had +his magistrate's commission; and he will be true to it. But he is +heart-broken for all that. He has not really lost the Faith, I think." + +"Why, my dear; that is foolish. He is very hot in Derby, I hear, against +the Papists. There was a poor woman who could not pay her fines; and--" + +Marjorie waved it aside. + +"Yes; he would be very hot; but for all that, there is his son Robin you +know--and his memories. And Robin has not written to him for six months. +That would be about the time when he told him he was to be a +magistrate." + +Then Marjorie told her of the whole that had passed, and of his mention +of the FitzHerberts. + +"And what he meant by that," she said, "I do not know; but I will tell +them." + + * * * * * + +She was pondering deeply all the way as she rode home. Mistress Alice +was one of those folks who so long as they are answered in words are +content; and Marjorie so answered her. And all the while she thought +upon Robin, and his passionate old father, and attempted to understand +the emotions that fought in the heart that had so disclosed itself to +her--its aged obstinacy, its loyalty and its confused honourableness. +She knew very well that he would do what he conceived to be his duty +with all the more zeal if it were an unpleasant duty; and she thanked +God that it was not for a good while yet that the lad would come home a +priest. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +The warning which she had had with regard to her friends, and which she +wrote on to them at once, received its fulfilment within a very few +weeks. Mr. John, who was on the eve of departure for London again to +serve his brother there, who was back again in the Fleet by now, wrote +that he knew very well that they were all under suspicion, that he had +sent on to his son the message she had given, but that he hoped they +would yet weather the storm. + +"And as to yourself, Mistress Marjorie," he wrote, "this makes it all +the more necessary that Booth's Edge should not be suspected; for what +will our men do if Padley be closed to them? You have heard of our +friend Mr. Garlick's capture? But that was no fault of yours. The man +was warned. I hear that they will send him into banishment, only, this +time." + + * * * * * + +The news came to her as she sat in the garden over her needlework on a +hot evening in June. There it was as cool as anywhere in the +countryside. She sat at the top of the garden, where her mother and she +had sat with Robin so long before; the breeze that came over the moor +bore with it the scent of the heather; and the bees were busy in the +garden flowers about her. + +It was first the gallop of a horse that she heard; and even at that +sound she laid down her work and stood up. But the house below her +blocked the most of her view; and she sat down again when she heard the +dull rattle of the hoofs die away again. When she next looked up a man +was running towards her from the bottom of the garden, and Janet was +peeping behind him from the gate into the court. As she again stood up, +she saw that it was Dick Sampson. + +He was so out of breath, first with his ride and next with his run up +the steep path, that for a moment or two he could not speak. He was +dusty, too, from foot to knee; his cap was awry and his collar +unbuttoned. + +"It is Mr. Thomas, mistress," he gasped presently. "I was in Derby and +saw him being taken to the gaol.... I could not get speech with him.... +I rode straight up to Padley, and found none there but the servants, and +them knowing nothing of the matter. And so I rode on here, mistress." + +He was plainly all aghast at the blow. Hitherto it had been enough that +Sir Thomas was in ward for his religion; and to this they had become +accustomed. But that the heir should be taken, too, and that without a +hint of what was to happen, was wholly unexpected. She made him sit +down, and presently drew from him the whole tale. + +Mr. Anthony Babington, his master, was away to London again, leaving the +house in Derby in the hands of the servants. He then--Dick Sampson--was +riding out early to take a horse to be shoed, and had come back through +the town-square, when he saw the group ride up to the gaol door near the +Friar Gate. He, too, had ridden up to ask what was forward, and had been +just in time to see Mr. Thomas taken in. He had caught his eye, but had +feigned not to know him. Then the man had attempted to get at what had +happened from one of the fellows at the door, but could get no more from +him than that the prisoner was a known and confessed recusant, and had +been laid by the heels according to orders, it was believed, sent down +by the Council. Then, Dick had ridden slowly away till he had turned +the corner, and then, hot foot for Padley. + +"And I heard the fellow say to one of his company that an informer was +coming down from London on purpose to deal with Mr. Thomas." + +Marjorie felt a sudden pang; for she had never forgotten the one she had +set eyes on in the Tower. + +"His name?" she said breathlessly. "Did you hear his name?" + +"It was Topcliffe, mistress," said Dick indifferently. "The other called +it out." + + * * * * * + +Marjorie sat silent. Not only had the blow fallen more swiftly than she +would have thought possible, but it was coupled with a second of which +she had never dreamed. That it was this man, above all others, that +should have come; this man, who stood to her mind, by a mere chance, for +all that was most dreadful in the sinister forces arrayed against +her--this brought misery down on her indeed. For, besides her own +personal reasons for terror, there was, besides, the knowledge that the +bringing of such a man at all from London on such business meant that +the movement beginning here in her own county was not a mere caprice. + +She sat silent then--seeing once more before her the wide court of the +Tower, the great keep opposite, and in the midst that thin figure moving +to his hateful business.... And she knew now, in this instant, as never +before, that the chief reason for her terror was that she had coupled in +her mind her own friend Robin with the thought of this man, as if by +some inner knowledge that their lives must cross some day--a knowledge +which she could neither justify nor silence. Thank God, at least, that +Robin was still safe in Rheims! + + +II + +She sent him off after a couple of hours' rest, during which once more +he had told his story to Mistress Alice, with a letter to Mr. Thomas's +wife, who, no doubt, would have followed her lord to Derby. She had gone +apart with Alice, while Dick ate and drank, to talk the affair out, and +had told her of Topcliffe's presence, at which news even the placid face +of her friend looked troubled; but they had said nothing more on the +point, and had decided that a letter should be written in Mistress +Babington's name, offering Mrs. FitzHerbert the hospitality of Babington +House, and any other services she might wish. Further, they had decided +that the best thing to do was to go themselves to Derby next day, in +order to be at hand; since Mr. John was in London, and the sooner Mrs. +Thomas had friends with her, the better. + +"They may keep him in ward a long time," said Mistress Alice, "before +they bring him into open court--to try his courage. That is the way they +do. The charge, no doubt, will be that he has harboured and assisted +priests." + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Marjorie, as she lay awake that night, staring through the +summer dusk at the tall press which hid so much beside her dresses, that +the course on which her life moved was coming near to the rapids. Ever +since she had first put her hand to the work, ever since, even, she had +first offered her lover to God and let him go from her, it appeared as +if God had taken her at her word, and accepted in an instant that which +she offered so tremblingly. Her sight of London--the great buildings, +the crowds, the visible forces of the Crown, the company of gallant +gentlemen who were priests beneath their ruffs and feathers, the Tower, +her glimpse of Topcliffe--these things had shown her the dreadful +reality that lay behind this gentle scheming up in Derbyshire. Again, +there was Mr. Babington; here, too, she had perceived a mystery which +she could not understand: something moved behind the surface of which +not even Mr. Babington's sister knew anything, except that, indeed, it +was there. Again, there was the death of Father Campion--the very man +whom she had taken as a symbol of the Faith for which she fought with +her woman's wits; there was the news that came so suddenly and terribly +now and again, of one more priest gone to his death.... It was like the +slow rising of a storm: the air darkens; a stillness falls on the +countryside; the chirp of the birds seems as a plaintive word of fear; +then the thunder begins--a low murmur far across the horizons; then a +whisk of light, seen and gone again, and another murmur after it. And so +it gathers, dusk on dusk, stillness on stillness, murmur on murmur, +deepening and thickening; yet still no rain, but a drop or two that +falls and ceases again. And from the very delay it is all the more +dreadful; for the storm itself must break some time, and the artillery +war in the heavens, and the rain rush down, and flash follow flash, and +peal peal, and the climax come. + +So, then, it was with her. There was no drawing back now, even had she +wished it. And she wished it indeed, though she did not will it; she +knew that she must stand in her place, now more than ever, when the blow +had fallen so near. Now more than ever must she be discreet and +resolute, since Padley itself was fallen, in effect, if not in fact; and +Booth's Edge, in this valley at least, was the one hope of hunted men. +She must stand, then, in her place; she must plot and conspire and +scheme; she must govern her face and her manner more perfectly than +ever, for the sake of that tremendous Cause. + +As she lay there, listening to her friend's breathing in the darkness, +staring now at the doors of the press, now at the baggage that lay +heaped ready for the early start, these and a thousand other thoughts +passed before her. It was a long plot that had ended in this: it must +have reached its maturity weeks ago; the decision to strike must have +been reached before even Squire Audrey had given her the warning--for it +was only by chance that she had met him and he had told her.... And he, +too, Robin's father, would be in the midst of it all; he, too, that was +a Catholic by baptism, must sit with the other magistrates and threaten +and cajole as the manner was; and quiet Derby would be all astir; and +the Bassetts would be there, and Mr. Fenton, to see how their friend +fared in the dock; and the crowds would gather to see the prisoner +brought out, and the hunt would be up. And she herself, she, too, must +be there with the tearful little wife, who could do so little.... + +Thank God Robin was safe in Rheims!... + + +III + +Derby was, indeed, astir as they rode in, with the servants and the +baggage following behind, on the late afternoon of the next day. They +had ridden by easy stages, halting at Dethick for dinner, where the +Babingtons' house already hummed with dismay at the news that had come +from Derby last night. Mr. Anthony was away, and all seemed distracted. + +They rode in by the North road, seeing for the last mile or two of their +ride the towering spire of All Saints' Church high above the smoke of +the houses; they passed the old bridge half a mile from the +market-place, near the ancient camp; and even here overheard a sentence +or two from a couple of fellows that were leaning on the parapet, that +told them what was the talk of the town. It was plain that others +besides the Catholics understood the taking of Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert to +be a very significant matter. + +Babington House stood on the further side of the market-place from that +on which they entered, and Alice was for going there through side +streets. + +"They will take notice if we go straight through," she said. "It is +cheese-market to-day." + +"They will take notice in any case," said Marjorie. "It will be over the +town to-morrow that Mistress Babington is here, and it is best, +therefore, to come openly, as if without fear." + +And she turned to beckon the servants to draw up closer behind. + + * * * * * + +The square was indeed crowded as they came in. From all the country +round, and especially from Dovedale, the farmers came in on this day, or +sent their wives, for the selling of cheeses; and the small oblong of +the market--the smaller from its great Conduit and Cross--was full with +rows of stalls and carts, with four lanes only left along the edges by +which the traffic might pass; and even here the streams of passengers +forced the horses to go in single file. Groups of men--farmers' servants +who had driven in the carts, or walked with the pack-beasts--to whom +this day was a kind of feast, stood along the edges of the booths eyeing +all who went by. The inns, too, were doing a roaring trade, and it was +from one of these that the only offensive comment was made. + +Mistress Babington rode first, as suited her dignity, preceded by one of +the Dethick men whom they had taken up on their way, and who had pushed +forward when they came into the town to clear the road; and Mistress +Manners rode after her. The men stood aside as the cavalcade began to +go between the booths, and the most of them saluted Mistress Babington. +But as they were almost out of the market they came abreast one of the +inns from whose wide-open doors came a roar of voices from those that +were drinking within, and a group that was gathered on the step stopped +talking as the party came up. Marjorie glanced at them, and noticed +there was an air about two or three of the men that was plainly +town-bred; there was a certain difference in the cut of their clothes +and the way they wore them. Then she saw two or three whispering +together, and the next moment came a brutal shout. She could not catch +the sentence, but she heard the word "Papist" with an adjective, and +caught the unmistakable bullying tone of the man. The next instant there +broke out a confusion: a man dashed up the step from the crowd beneath, +and she caught a glimpse of Dick Sampson's furious face. Then the group +bore back, fighting, into the inn door; the Dethick servant leapt off +his horse, leaving it in some fellow's hands, and vanished up the step; +there was a rush of the crowd after him, and then the way was clear in +front, over the little bridge that spanned Bramble brook. + +When she drew level with Alice, she saw her friend's face, pale and +agitated. + +"It is the first time I have ever been cried at," she said. "Come; we +are nearly home. There is St. Peter's spire." + +"Shall we not--?" began Marjorie. + +"No, no" (and the pale face tightened suddenly). "My fellows will give +them a lesson. The crowd is on our side as yet." + + +IV + +As they rode in under the archway that led in beside the great doors of +Babington House, three or four grooms ran forward at once. It was plain +that their coming was looked for with some eagerness. + +Alice's manner seemed curiously different from that of the quiet woman +who had sat so patiently beside Marjorie in the manor among the hills: a +certain air of authority and dignity sat on her now that she was back in +her own place. + +"Is Mrs. FitzHerbert here?" she asked from the groom who helped her to +the ground. + +"Yes, mistress; she came from the inn this morning, and--" + +"Well?" + +"She is in a great taking, mistress. She would eat nothing, they said." + +Alice nodded. + +"You had best be off to the inn," she said, with a jerk of her head. "A +London fellow insulted us just now, and Sampson and Mallow--" + +She said no more. The man who held her horse slipped the reins into the +hands of the younger groom who stood by him, and was away and out of the +court in an instant. Marjorie smiled a little, astonished at her own +sense of exultation. The blows were not to be all one side, she +perceived. Then she followed Alice into the house. + +As they came through into the hall by the side-door that led through +from the court where they had dismounted, a figure was plainly visible +in the dusky light, going to and fro at the further end, with a quick, +nervous movement. The figure stopped as they advanced, and then darted +forward, crying out piteously: + +"Ah! you have come, thank God! thank God! They will not let me see him." + +"Hush! hush!" said Alice, as she caught her in her arms. + +"Mr. Bassett has been here," moaned the figure, "and he says it is +Topcliffe himself who has come down on the matter.... He says he is the +greatest devil of them all; and Thomas--" + +Then she burst out crying again. + + * * * * * + +It was an hour before they could get the full tale out of her. They took +her upstairs and made her sit down, for already a couple of faces peeped +from the buttery, and the servants would have gathered in another five +minutes; and together they forced her to eat and drink something, for +she had not tasted food since her arrival at the inn yesterday; and so, +little by little, they drew the story out. + +Mr. Thomas and his wife were actually on their way from Norbury when the +arrest had been made. Mr. Thomas had intended to pass a couple of nights +in Derby on various matters of the estates; and although, his wife said, +he had been somewhat silent and quiet since the warning had come to him +from Mr. Audrey, even he had thought it no danger to ride through Derby +on his way to Padley. He had sent a servant ahead to order rooms at the +inn for those two nights, and it was through that, it appeared, that the +news of his coming had reached the ears of the authorities. However that +was, and whether the stroke had been actually determined upon long +before, or had been suddenly decided upon at the news of his coming, it +fell out that, as the husband and wife were actually within sight of +Derby, on turning a corner they had found themselves surrounded by men +on horses, plainly gathered there for the purpose, with a magistrate in +the midst. Their names had been demanded, and, upon Mr. Thomas' +hesitation, they had been told that their names were well known, and a +warrant was produced, on a charge of recusancy and of aiding her Grace's +enemies, drawn out against Thomas FitzHerbert, and he had been placed +under arrest. Further, Mrs. FitzHerbert had been told she must not enter +the town with the party, but must go either before them or after them, +which she pleased. She had chosen to go first, and had been at the +windows of the inn in time to see her husband go by. There had been no +confusion, she said; the townsfolk appeared to know nothing of what was +happening until Mr. Thomas was safely lodged in the ward. + +Then she burst out crying again, lamenting the horrible state of the +prison, as it had been described to her, and demanding to know where +God's justice was in allowing His faithful servants to be so tormented +and harried.... + + * * * * * + +Marjorie watched her closely. She had met her once at Babington House, +when she was still Elizabeth Westley, but had thought little or nothing +of her since. She was a pale little creature, fair-haired and timorous, +and had now a hunted look of misery in her eyes that was very piteous to +see. It was plain they had done right in coming: this woman would be of +little service to her husband. + +Then when Alice had said a word or two, Marjorie began her questions. + +"Tell me," she said gently, "had you no warning of this?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"Not beyond that which came from yourself," she said; "and we never +thought--" + +"Hath Mr. Thomas had any priests with him lately?" + +"We have not had one at Norbury for the last six months, whilst we were +there, at least. My husband said it was better not, and that there was a +plenty of places for them to go to." + +"And you have not heard mass during that time?" + +The girl looked at her with tear-stained eyes. + +"No," she said. "But why do you ask that? My husband says--" + +"And when was the first you heard of Topcliffe? And what have you heard +of him?" + +The other's face fell into lines of misery. + +"I have heard he is the greatest devil her Grace uses. He hath authority +to question priests and others in his own house. He hath a rack there +that he boasts makes all others as Christmas toys. My husband--" + +Marjorie patted her arm gently. + +"There! there!" she said kindly. "Your husband is not in Topcliffe's +house. There will be no question of that. He is here in his own county, +and--" + +"But that will not save him!" cried the girl. "Why--" + +"Tell me" interrupted Marjorie, "was Topcliffe with the men that took +Mr. Thomas?" + +The other shook her head. + +"No; I heard he was not. He was come from London yesterday morning. That +was the first I heard of him." + +Then Alice began again to soothe her gently, to tell her that her +husband was in no great danger as yet, that he was well known for his +loyalty, and to do her best to answer the girl's pitiful questions. And +Marjorie sat back and considered. + +Marjorie had a remarkable knowledge of the methods of the Government, +gathered from the almost endless stories she had heard from travelling +priests and others; it was her business, too, to know them. Two or three +things, therefore, if the girl's account was correct, were plain. First, +that this was a concerted plan, and not a mere chance arrest. Mr. +Audrey's message to her showed so much, and the circumstances of +Topcliffe's arrival confirmed it. Next, it must be more than a simple +blow struck at one man, Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert: Topcliffe would not +have come down from London at all unless it were a larger quarry than +Mr. Thomas that was aimed at. Thirdly, and in conclusion, it would not +be easy therefore to get Mr. Thomas released again. There remained a +number of questions which she had as yet no means of answering. Was it +because Mr. Thomas was heir to the enormous FitzHerbert estates in this +county and elsewhere, that he was struck at? Or was it the beginning, +merely, of a general assault on Derbyshire, such as had taken place +before she was born? Or was it that Mr. Thomas' apparent coolness +towards the Faith (for that was evident by his not having heard mass for +so long, and by his refusal to entertain priests just at present)--was +it that lack of zeal on his part, which would, of course, be known to +the army of informers scattered now throughout England, which had marked +him out as the bird to be flown at? It would be, indeed, a blow to the +Catholic gentry of the county, if any of the FitzHerberts should fall! + +She stood up presently, grave with her thoughts. Mistress Alice glanced +up. + +"I am going out for a little," said Marjorie. + +"But--" + +"May two of your men follow me at a little distance? But I shall be safe +enough. I am going to a friend's house." + + * * * * * + +Marjorie knew Derby well enough from the old days when she rode in +sometimes with her father and slept at Mr. Biddell's; and, above all, +she knew all that Derby had once been. In one place, outside the town, +was St. Mary-in-Pratis, where the Benedictine nuns had lived; St. +Leonard's had had a hospital for lepers; St. Helen's had had the +Augustinian hospital for poor brothers and sisters; St. Alkmund's had +held a relic of its patron saint; all this she knew by heart; and it was +bitter now to be here on such business. But she went briskly out from +the hall; and ten minutes later she was knocking at the door of a little +attorney, the old partner of her father's, whose house faced the +Guildhall across the little market-square. It was opened by an old woman +who smiled at the sight of her. + +"Eh! come in, mistress. The master saw you ride into town. He is in the +upstairs parlour, with Mr. Bassett." + +The girl nodded to her bodyguard, and followed the old woman in. She +bowed as she passed the lawyer's confidential clerk and servant, Mr. +George Beaton, in the passage--a big man, with whom she had had +communications more than once on Popish affairs. + +Mr. John Biddell, like Marjorie's own father and his partner, was one of +those quiet folks who live through storms without attracting attention +from the elements, yet without the sacrifice of principle. He was a +Catholic, and never pretended to be anything else; but he was so little +and so harmless that no man ever troubled him. He pleaded before the +magistrates unobtrusively and deftly; and would have appeared before her +Grace herself or the Lord of Hell with the same timid and respectful +air, in his iron-rimmed spectacles, his speckless dark suit, and his +little black cap drawn down to his ears. He had communicated with +Marjorie again and again in the last two or three years on the subject +of wandering priests, calling them "gentlemen," with the greatest care, +and allowing no indiscreet word ever to appear in his letters, He +remembered King Harry, whom he had seen once in a visit of his to +London; he had assisted the legal authorities considerably in the +restoration under Queen Mary; and he had soundlessly acquiesced in the +changes again under Elizabeth--so far, at least, as mere law was +concerned. + +Mr. William Bassett was a very different man. First he was the +brother-in-law of Sir Thomas FitzHerbert himself; and was entirely of +the proper spirit to mate with that fearless family. He had considerable +estates, both at Langley and Blore, in both of which places he +cheerfully evaded the new laws, maintaining and helping priests in all +directions; a man, in fact, of an ardent and boisterous faith which he +extended (so the report ran) even to magic and astrology; a man of +means, too, in spite of his frequent fines for recusancy, and aged about +fifty years old at this time, with a high colour in his face and bright, +merry eyes. Marjorie had spoken with him once or twice only. + +These two men, then, first turned round in their chairs, and then stood +up to salute Marjorie, as she came into the upstairs parlour. It was a +somewhat dark room, panelled where there was space for it between the +books, and with two windows looking out on to the square. + +"I thought we should see you soon," said the attorney. "We saw you come, +mistress; and the fellows that cried out on you." + +"They had their deserts," said Marjorie, smiling. + +Mr. Bassett laughed aloud. + +"Indeed they did," he said in his deep, pleasant voice. "There were two +of them with bloody noses before all was done.... You have come for the +news, I suppose, mistress?" + +He eyed her genially and approvingly. He had heard a great deal of this +young lady in the last three or four years; and wished there were more +of her kind. + +"That is what I have come for," said Marjorie. "We have Mrs. Thomas over +at Babington House." + +"She'll be of no great service to her husband," said the other. "She +cries and laments too much. Now--" + +He stopped himself from paying his compliments. It seemed to him that +this woman, with her fearless, resolute face, would do very well without +them. + +Then he set himself to relate the tale. + +It seemed that little Mrs. Thomas had given a true enough report. It was +true that Topcliffe had arrived from London on the morning of the +arrest; and Mistress Manners was perfectly right in her opinion that +this signified a good deal. But, it seemed to Mr. Bassett, the Council +had made a great mistake in striking at the FitzHerberts. The quarry was +too strong, he said, for such birds as the Government used--too strong +and too many. For, first, no FitzHerbert had ever yet yielded in his +allegiance either to the Church or to the Queen's Grace; and it was not +likely that Mr. Thomas would begin: and, next, if one yielded (_suadente +diabolo_, and _Deus avertat_!) a dozen more would spring up. But the +position was serious for all that, said Mr. Bassett (and Mr. Biddell +nodded assent), for who would deal with the estates and make suitable +arrangements if the heir, who already largely controlled them, were laid +by the heels? But that the largeness of the undertaking was recognised +by the Council, was plain enough, in that no less a man than Topcliffe +(Mr. Bassett spat on the floor as he named him), Topcliffe, "the devil +possessed by worse devils," was sent down to take charge of the matter. + +Marjorie listened carefully. + +"You have no fear for yourself, sir?" she asked presently, as the man +sat back in his chair. + +Mr. Bassett smiled broadly, showing his strong white teeth between the +iron-grey hair that fringed his lips. + +"No; I have no fear," he said. "I have a score of my men quartered in +the town." + +"And the trial? When will that--" + +"The trial! Why, I shall praise God if the trial falls this year. They +will harry him before magistrates, no doubt; and they will squeeze him +in private. But the trial!... Why, they have not a word of treason +against him; and that is what they are after, no doubt." + +"Treason?" + +"Why, surely. That is what they seek to fasten upon us all. It would not +sound well that Christian should shed Christian's blood for +Christianity; but that her Grace should sorrowfully arraign her subjects +whom she loves and cossets so much, for treason--Why, that is as sound a +cause as any in the law-books!" + +He smiled in a manner that was almost a snarl, and his eyes grew narrow +with ironic merriment. + +"And Mr. Thomas--" began Marjorie hesitatingly. + +He whisked his glance on her like lightning. + +"Mr. Thomas will laugh at them all," he cried. "He is as staunch as any +of his blood. I know he has been careful of late; but, then, you must +remember how all the estates hang on him. But when he has his back to +the wall--or on the rack for that matter--he will be as stiff as iron. +They will have their work to bend him by a hair's breadth." + +Marjorie drew a breath of relief. She did not question Mr. Bassett's +judgment. But she had had an uneasy discomfort in her heart till he had +spoken so plainly. + +"Well, sir," she said, "that is what I chiefly came for. I wished to +know if I could do aught for Mr. Thomas or his wife; and--" + +"You can do a great deal for his wife," said he. "You can keep her quiet +and comfort her. She needs it, poor soul! I have told her for her +comfort that we shall have Thomas out again in a month--God forgive me +for the lie!" + +Marjorie stood up; and the men rose with her. + +"Why, what is that?" she said; and went swiftly to the window; for the +noise of the crying of the cheeses and the murmur of voices had ceased +all on a sudden. + +Straight opposite the window where she stood was the tiled flight of +stairs that ran up from the market-place to the first floor of the +Guildhall, a great building where the business of the town was largely +done, and where the magistrates sat when there was need; and a lane that +was clear of booths and carts had been left leading from that door +straight across the square, so that she could see the two little +brobonets--or iron guns--that guarded the door on either side. It was up +this lane that she looked, and down it that there advanced a little +procession, the very sight of which, it seemed, had stricken the square +to silence. Already the crowd was dividing from end to end, ranging +itself on either side--farmers' men shambled out of the way and turned +to see; women clambered on the carts holding up their children to see, +and from across the square came country-folk running, that they too +might see. The steps of the Cross were already crowded with sightseers. + +Yet, to outward sight, the little procession was ordinary enough. First +came three or four of the town-guard in livery, carrying their staves; +then half a dozen sturdy fellows; then a couple of dignified +gentlemen--one of them she knew: Mr. Roger Columbell, magistrate of the +town--and then, walking all alone, the figure of a man, tall and thin, a +little rustily, but very cleanly dressed in a dark suit, who carried his +head stooping forward as if he were looking on the ground for something, +or as if he deprecated so much notice. + +Marjorie saw no more than this clearly. She did not notice the group of +men that followed in case protection were needed for the agent of the +Council, nor the crowd that swirled behind. For, as the solitary figure +came beneath the windows she recognised the man whom she had seen once +in the Tower of London. + +"God smite the man!" growled a voice in her ear. "That is Topcliffe, +going to the prison, I daresay." + +And as Marjorie turned her pale face back, she saw the face of kindly +Mr. Bassett, suffused and convulsed with fury. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +"Marjorie! Marjorie! Wake up! the order hath come. It is for to-night." + +Very slowly Marjorie rose out of the glimmering depths of sleep into +which she had fallen on the hot August afternoon, sunk down upon the arm +of the great chair that stood by the parlour window, and saw Mrs. Thomas +radiant before her, waving a scrap of paper in her hand. + +Nearly two months were passed; and as yet no opportunity had been given +to the prisoner's wife to visit him, and during that time it had been +impossible to go back into the hills and leave the girl alone. The heat +of the summer had been stifling, down here in the valley; a huge plague +of grasshoppers had ravaged all England; and there were times when even +in the grass-country outside Derby, their chirping had become +intolerable. The heat, and the necessary seclusion, and the anxiety had +told cruelly upon the country girl; Marjorie's face had perceptibly +thinned; her eyes had shadows above and beneath; yet she knew she must +not go; since the young wife had attached herself to her altogether, +finding Alice (she said) too dull for her spirits. Mr. Bassett was gone +again. There was no word of a trial; although there had been a hearing +or two before the magistrates; and it was known that Topcliffe +continually visited the prison. + +One piece of news only had there been to comfort her during this time, +and that, that Mr. John's prediction had been fulfilled with regard to +the captured priest, Mr. Garlick, who, back from Rheims only a few +months, had been deported from England, since it was his first offence, +But he would soon be over again, no doubt, and next time with death as +the stake in the game. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie drew a long breath, and passed her hands over her forehead. + +"The order?" she said. "What order?" + +The girl explained, torrentially. A man had come just now from the +Guildhall; he had asked for Mrs. FitzHerbert; she had gone down into the +hall to see him; and all the rest of the useless details. But the effect +was that leave had been given at last to visit the prisoner--for two +persons, of which Mrs. FitzHerbert must be one; and that they must +present the order to the gaoler before seven o'clock, when they would be +admitted. She looked--such was the constitution of her mind--as happy as +if it were an order for his release. Marjorie drove away the last shreds +of sleep; and kissed her. + +"That is very good news," she said. "Now we will begin to do something." + + * * * * * + +The sun had sunk so far, when they set out at last, as to throw the +whole of the square into golden shade; and, in the narrow, overhung +Friar's Gate, where the windows of the upper stories were so near that a +man might shake hands with his friend on the other side, the twilight +had already begun. They had determined to walk, in order less to attract +attention, in spite of the filth through which they knew they must pass, +along the couple of hundred yards that separated them from the prison. +For every housewife emptied her slops out of doors, and swept her house +(when she did so at all) into the same place: now and again the heaps +would be pushed together and removed, but for the most part they lay +there, bones and rags and rotten fruit,--dusty in one spot, so that all +blew about--dampened in others where a pail or two had been poured +forth. The heat, too, was stifling, cast out again towards evening from +the roofs and walls that had drunk it in all day from the burning skies. + +As they stood before the door at last and waited, after beating the +great iron knocker on the iron plate, a kind of despair came down on +Marjorie. They had advanced just so far in two months as to be allowed +to speak with the prisoner; and, from her talkings with Mr. Biddell, had +understood how little that was. Indeed, he had hinted to her plainly +enough that even in this it might be that they were no more than pawns +in the enemy's hand; and that, under a show of mercy, it was often +allowed for a prisoner's friends to have free access to him in order to +shake his resolution. If there was any cause for congratulation then, it +lay solely in the thought that other means had so far failed. One thing +at least they knew, for their comfort, that there had been no talk of +torture.... + +It was a full couple of minutes before the door opened to show them a +thin, brown-faced man, with his sleeves rolled up, dressed over his +shirt and hose in a kind of leathern apron. He nodded as he saw the +ladies, with an air of respect, however, and stood aside to let them +come in. Then, with the same civility, he asked for the order, and read +it, holding it up to the light that came through the little barred +window over the door. + +It was an unspeakably dreary little entrance passage in which they +stood, wainscoted solidly from floor to ceiling with wood that looked +damp and black from age; the ceiling itself was indistinguishable in the +twilight; the floor seemed composed of packed earth, three or four doors +showed in the woodwork; that opposite to the one by which they had +entered stood slightly ajar, and a smoky light shone from beyond it. +The air was heavy and hot and damp, and smelled of mildew. + +The man gave the order back when he had read it, made a little gesture +that resembled a bow, and led the way straight forward. + +They found themselves, when they had passed through the half-open door, +in another passage running at right-angles to the entrance, with +windows, heavily barred, so as to exclude all but the faintest twilight, +even though the sun was not yet set; there appeared to be foliage of +some kind, too, pressing against them from outside, as if a little +central yard lay there; and the light, by which alone they could see +their way along the uneven earth floor, came from a flambeau which hung +by the door, evidently put there just now by the man who had opened to +them; he led them down this passage to the left, down a couple of steps; +unlocked another door of enormous weight and thickness and closed this +behind them. They found themselves in complete darkness. + +"I'll be with you in a moment, mistress," said his voice; and they heard +his steps go on into the dark and cease. + +Marjorie stood passive; she could feel the girl's hands clasp her arm, +and could hear her breath come like sobs. But before she could speak, a +light shone somewhere on the roof; and almost immediately the man came +back carrying another flambeau. He called to them civilly; they +followed. Marjorie once trod on some soft, damp thing that crackled +beneath her foot. They groped round one more corner; waited, while they +heard a key turning in a lock. Then the man stood aside, and they went +past into the room. A figure was standing there; but for the first +moment they could see no more. Great shadows fled this way and that as +the gaoler hung up the flambeau. Then the door closed again behind +them; and Elizabeth flung herself into her husband's arms. + + +II + +When Marjorie could see him, as at last he put his wife into the single +chair that stood in the cell and gave her the stool, himself sitting +upon the table, she was shocked by the change in his face. It was true +that she had only the wavering light of the flambeau to see him by (for +the single barred window was no more than a pale glimmer on the wall), +yet even that shadowy illumination could not account for his paleness +and his fallen face. He was dressed miserably, too; his clothes were +disordered and rusty-looking; and his features looked out, at once +pinched and elongated. He blinked a little from time to time; his lips +twitched beneath his ill-cut moustache and beard; and little spasms +passed, as he talked, across his whole face. It was pitiful to see him; +and yet more pitiful to hear him talk; for he assumed a kind of +courtesy, mixed with bitterness. Now and again he fell silent, glancing +with a swift and furtive movement of his eyes from one to the other of +his visitors and back again. He attempted to apologise for the +miserableness of the surroundings in which he received them--saying that +her Grace his hostess could not be everywhere at once; and that her +guests must do the best that they could. And all this was mixed with +sudden wails from his wife, sudden graspings of his hands by hers. It +all seemed to the quiet girl, who sat ill-at-ease on the little +three-legged stool, that this was not the way to meet adversity. Then +she drove down her criticism; and told herself that she ought rather to +admire one of Christ's confessors. + +"And you bring me no hope, then, Mistress Manners?" he said presently +(for she had told him that there was no talk yet of any formal +trial)--"no hope that I may meet my accusers face to face? I had thought +perhaps--" + +He lifted his eyes swiftly to hers, and dropped them again. + +She shook her head. + +"And yet that is all that I ask now--only to meet my accusers. They can +prove nothing against me--except, indeed, my recusancy; and that they +have known this long time back. They can prove nothing as to the +harbouring of any priests--not within the last year, at any rate, for I +have not done so. It seemed to me--" + +He stopped again, and passed his shaking hand over his mouth, eyeing the +two women with momentary glances, and then looking down once more. + +"Yes?" said Marjorie. + +He slipped off from the table, and began to move about restlessly. + +"I have done nothing--nothing at all," he said. "Indeed, I thought--" +And once more he was silent. + + * * * * * + +He began to talk presently of the Derbyshire hills of Padley and of +Norbury. He asked his wife of news from home, and she gave it him, +interrupting herself with laments. Yet all the while his eyes strayed to +Marjorie as if there was something he would ask of her, but could not. +He seemed completely unnerved, and for the first time in her life the +girl began to understand something of what gaol-life must signify. She +had heard of death and the painful Question; and she had perceived +something of the heroism that was needed to meet them; yet she had never +before imagined what that life of confinement might be, until she had +watched this man, whom she had known in the world as a curt and almost +masterful gentleman, careful of his dress, particular of the deference +that was due to him, now become this worn prisoner, careless of his +appearance, who stroked his mouth continually, once or twice gnawing his +nails, who paced about in this abominable hole, where a tumbled heap of +straw and blankets represented a bed, and a rickety table with a chair +and a stool his sole furniture. It seemed as if a husk had been stripped +from him, and a shrinking creature had come out of it which at present +she could not recognise. + +Then he suddenly wheeled on her, and for the first time some kind of +forcefulness appeared in his manner. + +"And my Uncle Bassett?" he cried abruptly. "What is he doing all this +while?" + +Marjorie said that Mr. Bassett had been most active on his behalf with +the lawyers, but, for the present, was gone back again to his estates. +Mr. Thomas snorted impatiently. + +"Yes, he is gone back again," he cried, "and he leaves me to rot here! +He thinks that I can bear it for ever, it seems!" + +"Mr. Bassett has done his utmost, sir," said Marjorie. "He exposed +himself here daily." + +"Yes, with twenty fellows to guard him, I suppose. I know my Uncle +Bassett's ways.... Tell me, if you please, how matters stand." + +Marjorie explained again. There was nothing in the world to be done +until the order came for his trial--or, rather, everything had been done +already. His lawyers were to rely exactly on the defence that had been +spoken of just now; it was to be shown that the prisoner had harboured +no priests; and the witnesses had already been spoken with--men from +Norbury and Padley, who would swear that to their certain knowledge no +priest had been received by Mr. FitzHerbert at least during the previous +year or eighteen months. There was, therefore, no kind of reason why +Mr. Bassett or Mr. John FitzHerbert should remain any longer in Derby. +Mr. John had been there, but had gone again, under advice from the +lawyers; but he was in constant communication with Mr. Biddell, who had +all the papers ready and the names of the witnesses, and had made more +than one application already for the trial to come on. + +"And why has neither my father nor my Uncle Bassett come to see me?" +snapped the man. + +"They have tried again and again, sir," said Marjorie. "But permission +was refused. They will no doubt try again, now that Mrs. FitzHerbert has +been admitted." + +He paced up and down again for a few steps without speaking. Then again +he turned on her, and she could see his face working uncontrolledly. + +"And they will enjoy the estates, they think, while I rot here!" + +"Oh, my Thomas!" moaned his wife, reaching out to him. But he paid no +attention to her. + +"While I rot here!" he cried again. "But I will not! I tell you I will +not!" + +"Yes, sir?" said Marjorie gently, suddenly aware that her heart had +begun to beat swiftly. + +He glanced at her, and his face changed a little. + +"I will not," he murmured. "I must break out of my prison. Only their +accursed--" + +Again he interrupted himself, biting sharply on his lip. + + * * * * * + +For an instant the girl had thought that all her old distrust of him was +justified, and that he contemplated in some way the making of terms that +would be disgraceful to a Catholic. But what terms could these be? He +was a FitzHerbert; there was no evading his own blood; and he was the +victim chosen by the Council to answer for the rest. Nothing, then, +except the denial of his faith--a formal and deliberate apostasy--could +serve him; and to think that of the nephew of old Sir Thomas, and the +son of John, was inconceivable. There seemed no way out; the torment of +this prison must be borne. She only wished he could have borne it more +manfully. + +It seemed, as she watched him, that some other train of thought had +fastened upon him. His wife had begun again her lamentations, bewailing +his cell and his clothes, and his loss of liberty, asking him whether he +were not ill, whether he had food enough to eat; and he hardly answered +her or glanced at her, except once when he remembered to tell her that a +good gift to the gaoler would mean a little better food, and perhaps +more light for himself. And then he resumed his pacing; and, three or +four times as he turned, the girl caught his eyes fixed on hers for one +instant. She wondered what was in his mind to say. + +Even as she wondered there came a single loud rap upon the door, and +then she heard the key turning. He wheeled round, and seemed to come to +a determination. + +"My dearest," he said to his wife, "here is the gaoler come to turn you +out again. I will ask him--" He broke off as the man stepped in. + +"Mr. Gaoler," he said, "my wife would speak alone with you a moment." +(He nodded and winked at his wife, as if to tell her that this was the +time to give him the money.) + +"Will you leave Mistress Manners here for a minute or two while my wife +speaks with you in the passage?" + +Then Marjorie understood that she had been right. + +The man who held the keys nodded without speaking. + +"Then, my dearest wife," said Thomas, embracing her all of a sudden, +and simultaneously drawing her towards the door, "we will leave you to +speak with the man. He will come back for Mistress Manners directly." + +"Oh! my Thomas!" wailed the girl, clinging to him. + +"There, there, my dearest. And you will come and see me again as soon as +you can get the order." + + * * * * * + +The instant the door was closed he came up to Marjorie and his face +looked ghastly. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I dare not speak to my wife. But ... but, +for Jesu's sake, get me out of here. I ... I cannot bear it.... +Topcliffe comes to see me every day.... He ... he speaks to me +continually of--O Christ! Christ! I cannot bear it!" + +He dropped suddenly on to his knees by the table and hid his face. + + +III + +At Babington House Marjorie slept, as was often the custom, in the same +room with her maid--a large, low room, hung all round with painted +cloths above the low wainscoting. + +On the night after the visit to the prison, Janet noticed that her +mistress was restless; and that while she would say nothing of what was +troubling her, and only bade her go to bed and to sleep, she herself +would not go to bed. At last, in sheer weariness, the maid slept. + +She awakened later, at what time she did not know, and, in her +uneasiness, sat up and looked about her; and there, still before the +crucifix, where she had seen her before she slept, kneeled her mistress. +She cried out in a loud whisper: + +"Come to bed, mistress; come to bed." + +And, at the word, Marjorie started; then she rose, turned, and in the +twilight of the summer night began to prepare herself for bed, without +speaking. Far away across the roofs of Derby came the crowing of a cock +to greet the dawn. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I + +It was a fortnight later that there came suddenly to Babington House old +Mr. Biddell himself. Up to the present he had been careful not to do so. +He appeared in the great hall an hour before dinner-time, as the tables +were being set, and sent a servant for Mistress Manners. + +"Hark you!" he said; "you need not rouse the whole house. It is with +Mistress Manners alone that my business lies." + +He broke off, as Mrs. FitzHerbert looked over the gallery. + +"Mr. Biddell!" she cried. + +He shook his head, but he seemed to speak with some difficulty. + +"It is just a rumour," he said, "such as there hath been before. I beg +you--" + +"That ... there will be no trial at all?" + +"It is just a rumour," he repeated. "I did not even come to trouble you +with it. It is with Mistress Manners that--" + +"I am coming down," cried Mrs. Thomas, and vanished from the gallery. + +Mr. Biddell acted with decision. He whisked out again into the passage +from the court, and there ran straight into Marjorie, who was coming in +from the little enclosed garden at the back of the house. + +"Quick!" he said. "Quick! Mrs. Thomas is coming, and I do not wish--" + +She led the way without a word back into the court, along a few steps, +and up again to the house into a little back parlour that the steward +used when the house was full. It was unoccupied now, and looked out into +the garden whence she was just come. She locked the door when he had +entered, and came and sat down out of sight of any that might be +passing. + +"Sit here," she said; and then: "Well?" she asked. + +He looked at her gravely and sadly, shaking his head once or twice. Then +he drew out a paper or two from a little lawyer's valise that he +carried, and, as he did so, heard a hand try the door outside. + +"That is Mrs. Thomas," whispered the girl. "She will not find us." + +He waited till the steps moved away again. Then he began. He looked +anxious and dejected. + +"I fear it is precisely as you thought," he said. "I have followed up +every rumour in the place. And the first thing that is certain is that +Topcliffe leaves Derby in two days from now. I had it as positive +information that his men have orders to prepare for it. The second thing +is that Topcliffe is greatly elated; and the third is that Mr. +FitzHerbert will be released as soon as Topcliffe is gone." + +"You are sure this time, sir?" + +He assented by a movement of his head. + +"I dared not tell Mrs. Thomas just now. She would give me no peace. I +said it was but a rumour, and so it is; but it is a rumour that hath +truth behind it. He hath been moved, too, these three days back, to +another cell, and hath every comfort." + +He shook his head again. + +"But he hath made no promise--" began Marjorie breathlessly. + +"It is exactly that which I am most afraid of," said the lawyer. "If he +had yielded, and, consented to go to church, it would have been in +every man's mouth by now. But he hath not, and I should fear it less if +he had. That's the very worst part of my news." + +"I do not understand--" + +Mr. Biddell tapped his papers on the table. + +"If he were an open and confessed enemy, I should fear it less," he +repeated. "It is not that. But he must have given some promise to +Topcliffe that pleases the fellow more. And what can that be but that--" + +Marjorie turned yet whiter. She sighed once as if to steady herself. She +could not speak, but she nodded. + +"Yes, Mistress Manners," said the old man. "I make no doubt at all that +he hath promised to assist him against them all--against Mr. John his +father, it may be, or Mr. Bassett, or God knows whom! And yet still +feigning to be true! And that is not all." + +She looked at him. She could not conceive worse than this, if indeed it +were true. + +"And do you think," he continued, "that Mr. Topcliffe will do all this +for love, or rather, for mere malice? I have heard more of the fellow +since he hath been in Derby than in all my life before; and, I tell you, +he is for feathering his own nest if he can." He stopped. + +"Mistress, did you know that he had been out to Padley three or four +times since he came to Derby?... Well, I tell you now that he has. Mr. +John was away, praise God; but the fellow went all round the place and +greatly admired it." + +"He went out to see what he could find?" asked the girl, still +whispering. + +The other shook his head. + +"No, mistress; he searched nothing. I had it all from one of his +fellows, through one of mine. He searched nothing; he sat a great while +in the garden, and ate some of the fruit; he went through the hall and +the rooms, and admired all that was to be seen there. He went up into +the chapel-room, too, though there was nothing there to tell him what it +was; and he talked a great while to one of the men about the farms, and +the grazing, and such-like, but he meddled with nothing." (The old man's +face suddenly wrinkled into fury.) "The devil went through it all like +that, and admired it; and he came out to it again two or three times and +did the like." + +He stopped to examine the notes he had made, and Marjorie sat still, +staring on him. + +It was worse than anything she could have conceived possible. That a +FitzHerbert should apostatise was incredible enough; but that one should +sell his family--It was impossible. + +"Mr. Biddell," she whispered piteously, "it cannot be. It is some--" + +He shook his head suddenly and fiercely. + +"Mistress Manners, it is as plain as daylight to me. Do you think I +could believe it without proof? I tell you I have lain awake all last +night, fitting matters one into the other. I did not hear about Padley +till last night, and it gave me all that I needed. I tell you Topcliffe +hath cast his foul eyes on Padley and coveted it; and he hath demanded +it as a price for Mr. Thomas' liberty. I do not know what else he hath +promised, but I will stake my fortune that Padley is part of it. That is +why he is so elated. He hath been here nearly this three months back; he +hath visited Mr. FitzHerbert nigh every day; he hath cajoled him, he +hath threatened him; he hath worn out his spirit by the gaol and the +stinking food and the loneliness; and he hath prevailed, as he hath +prevailed with many another. And the end of it all is that Mr. +FitzHerbert hath yielded--yet not openly. Maybe that is part of the +bargain upon the other side, that he should keep his name before the +world. And on this side he hath promised Padley, if that he may but keep +the rest of the estates, and have his liberty. I tell you that alone +cuts all the knots of this tangle.... Can you cut them in any other +manner?" + + * * * * * + +There was a long silence. From the direction of the kitchen came the +sound of cheerful voices, and the clatter of lids, and from the walled +garden outside the chatter of birds.... + +At last the girl spoke. + +"I cannot believe it without evidence," she said. "It may be so. God +knows! But I do not.... Mr. Biddell?" + +"Well, mistress?" + +The lawyer's head was sunk on his breast; he spoke listlessly. + +"He will have given some writing to Mr. Topcliffe, will he not? if this +be true. Mr. Topcliffe is not the man--" + +The old man lifted his head sharply; then he nodded. + +"That is the shrewd truth, mistress. Mr. Topcliffe will not trust to +another's honour; he hath none of his own!" + +"Well," said Marjorie, "if all this be true, Mr. Topcliffe will already +have that writing in his possession." + +She paused. + +"Eh?" said the lawyer. + +They looked at one another again in silence. It would have seemed to +another that the two minds talked swiftly and wordlessly together, the +trained thought of the lawyer and the quick wit of the woman; for when +the man spoke again, it was as if they had spoken at length. + +"But we must not destroy the paper," he said, "or the fat will be in +the fire. We must not let Mr. FitzHerbert know that he is found out." + +"No," said the girl. "But to get a view of it.... And a copy of it, to +send to his family." + +Again the two looked each at the other in silence--as if they were +equals--the old man and the girl. + + +II + +It was the last night before the Londoners were to return. + +They had lived royally these last three months. The agent of the Council +had had a couple of the best rooms in the inn that looked on to the +market-square, where he entertained his friends, and now and then a +magistrate or two. Even Mr. Audrey, of Matstead, had come to him once +there, with another, but had refused to stay to supper, and had ridden +away again alone. + +Downstairs, too, his men had fared very well indeed. They knew how to +make themselves respected, for they carried arms always now, since the +unfortunate affair a day after the arrival, when two of them had been +gravely battered about by two rustic servants, who, they learned, were +members of a Popish household in the town. But all the provincial +fellows were not like this. There was a big man, half clerk and half +man-servant to a poor little lawyer, who lived across the square--a man +of no wit indeed, but, at any rate, one of means and of generosity, too, +as they had lately found out--means and generosity, they understood, +that were made possible by the unknowing assistance of his master. In a +word it was believed among Mr. Topcliffe's men that all the refreshment +which they had lately enjoyed, beyond that provided by their master, was +at old Mr. Biddell's expense, though he did not know it, and that +George Beaton, fool though he was, was a cleverer man than his employer. +Lately, too, they had come to learn, that although George Beaton was +half clerk, half man-servant, to a Papist, he was yet at heart as stout +a Protestant as themselves, though he dared not declare it for fear of +losing his place. + +On this last night they made very merry indeed, and once or twice the +landlord pushed his head through the doorway. The baggage was packed, +and all was in readiness for a start soon after dawn. + +There came a time when George Beaton said that he was stifling with the +heat; and, indeed, in this low-ceilinged room after supper, with the +little windows looking on to the court, the heat was surprising. The men +sat in their shirts and trunks. So that it was as natural as possible +that George should rise from his place and sit down again close to the +door where the cool air from the passage came in; and from there, once +more, he led the talk, in his character of rustic and open-handed boor; +he even beat the sullen man who was next him genially over the head to +make him give more room, and then he proposed a toast to Mr. Topcliffe. + +It was about half an hour later, when George was becoming a little +anxious, that he drew out at last a statement that Mr. Topcliffe had a +great valise upstairs, full of papers that had to do with his law +business. (He had tried for this piece of information last night and the +night before, but had failed to obtain it.) Ten minutes later again, +then, when the talk had moved to affairs of the journey, and the valise +had been forgotten, it was an entirely unsuspicious circumstance that +George and the man that sat next him should slip out to take the air in +the stable-court. The Londoner was so fuddled with drink as to think +that he had gone out at his own deliberate wish; and there, in the +fresh air, the inevitable result followed; his head swam, and he leaned +on big George for support. And here, by the one stroke of luck that +visited poor George this evening, it fell that he was just in time to +see Mr. Topcliffe himself pass the archway in the direction of Friar's +Gate, in company with a magistrate, who had supped with him upstairs. + +Up to this point George had moved blindly, step by step. He had had his +instructions from his master, yet all that he had been able to determine +was the general plan to find out where the papers were kept, to remain +in the inn till the last possible moment, and to watch for any chance +that might open to him. Truly, he had no more than that, except, indeed, +a vague idea that it might be necessary to bribe one of the men to rob +his master. Yet there was everything against this, and it was, indeed, a +last resort. It seemed now, however, that another way was open. It was +exceedingly probable that Mr. Topcliffe was off for his last visit to +the prisoner, and, since a magistrate was with him, it was exceedingly +improbable that he would take the paper with him. It was not the kind of +paper--if, indeed, it existed at all--that more persons would be allowed +to see than were parties to the very discreditable affair. + +And now George spoke earnestly and convincingly. He desired to see the +baggage of so great a man as Mr. Topcliffe; he had heard so much of him. +His friend was a good fellow who trusted him (here George embraced him +warmly). Surely such a little thing would be allowed as for him, George, +to step in and view Mr. Topcliffe's baggage, while the faithful servant +kept watch in the passage! Perhaps another glass of ale-- + + +III + +"Yes, sir," said George an hour later, still a little flushed with the +amount of drink he had been forced to consume. "I had some trouble to +get it. But I think this is what your honour wanted." + +He began to search in his deep breast-pocket. + +"Tell me," said Mr. Biddell. + +"I got the fellow to watch in the passage, sir; him that I had made +drunk, while I was inside. There were great bundles of papers in the +valise.... No, sir, it was strapped up only.... The most of the papers +were docketed very legally, sir; so I did not have to search long. There +were three or four papers in a little packet by themselves; besides a +great packet that was endorsed with Mr. FitzHerbert's name, as well as +Mr. Topcliffe's and my lord Shrewsbury's; and I think I should not have +had time to look that through. But, by God's mercy, it was one of the +three or four by themselves." + +He had the paper in his hand by now. The lawyer made a movement to take +it. Then he restrained himself. + +"Tell me, first," he said. + +"Well, sir," said George, with a pardonable satisfaction in spinning the +matter out, "one was all covered with notes, and was headed 'Padley.' I +read that through, sir. It had to do with the buildings and the acres, +and so forth. The second paper I could make nothing out of; it was in +cypher, I think. The third paper was the same; and the fourth, sir, was +that which I have here." + +The lawyer started. + +"But I told you--" + +"Yes, sir; I should have said that this is the copy--or, at least, an +abstract. I made the abstract by the window, sir, crouching down so that +none should see me. Then I put all back as before, and came out again; +the fellow was fast asleep against the door." + +"And Topcliffe--" + +"Mr. Topcliffe, sir, returned half an hour afterwards in company again +with Mr. Hamilton. I waited a few minutes to see that all was well, and +then I came to you, sir." + +There was silence in the little room for a moment. It was the small back +office of Mr. Biddell, where he did his more intimate business, looking +out on to a paved court. The town was for the most part asleep, and +hardly a sound came through the closed windows. + +Then the lawyer turned and put out his hand for the paper without a +word. He nodded to George, who went out, bidding him good-night. + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later Mr. Biddell walked quietly through the passengers' +gate by the side of the great doors that led to the court beside +Babington House, closing it behind him. He knew that it would be left +unbarred till eleven o'clock that night. He passed on through the court, +past the house door, to the steward's office, where through heavy +curtains a light glimmered. As he put his hand on the door it opened, +and Marjorie was there. He said nothing, nor did she. Her face was pale +and steady, and there was a question in her eyes. For answer he put the +paper into her hands, and sat down while she read it. The stillness was +as deep here as in the office he had just left. + + +IV + +It was a minute or two before either spoke. The girl read the paper +twice through, holding it close to the little hand-lamp that stood on +the table. + +"You see, mistress," he said, "it is as bad as it can be." + +She handed back the paper to him; he slid out his spectacles, put them +on, and held the writing to the light. + +"Here are the points, you see ..." he went on. "I have annotated them in +the margin. First, that Thomas FitzHerbert be released from Derby gaol +within three days from the leaving of Topcliffe for London, and that he +be no more troubled, neither in fines nor imprisonment; next, that he +have secured to him, so far as the laws shall permit, all his +inheritance from Sir Thomas, from his father, and from any other +bequests whether of his blood-relations or no; thirdly, that Topcliffe +do 'persecute to the death'"--(the lawyer paused, cast a glance at the +downcast face of the girl) "'--do persecute to the death' his uncle Sir +Thomas, his father John, and William Bassett his kinsman; and, in return +for all this, Thomas FitzHerbert shall become her Grace's sworn +servant--that is, Mistress Manners, her Grace's spy, pursuivant, +informer and what-not--and that he shall grant and secure to Richard +Topcliffe, Esquire, and to his heirs for ever, 'the manors of Over +Padley and Nether Padley, on the Derwent, with six messuages, two +cottages, ten gardens, ten orchards, a thousand acres of land, five +hundred acres of meadow-land, six hundred acres of pasture, three +hundred acres of wood, a thousand acres of furze and heath, in Padley, +Grindleford and Lyham, in the parish of Hathersage, in consideration of +eight hundred marks of silver, to be paid to Thomas FitzHerbert, +Esquire, etc.'" + +The lawyer put the paper down, and pushed his spectacles on to his +forehead. + +"That is a legal instrument?" asked the girl quietly, still with +downcast eyes. + +"It is not yet fully completed, but it is signed and witnessed. It can +become a legal instrument by Topcliffe's act; and it would pass +muster--" + +"It is signed by Mr. Thomas?" + +He nodded. + +She was silent again. He began to tell her of how he had obtained it, +and of George's subtlety and good fortune; but she seemed to pay no +attention. She sat perfectly still. When he had ended, she spoke again. + +"A sworn servant of her Grace--" she began. + +"Topcliffe is a sworn servant of her Grace," he said bitterly; "you may +judge by that what Thomas FitzHerbert hath become." + +"We shall have his hand, too, against us all, then?" + +"Yes, mistress; and, what is worse, this paper I take it--" (he tapped +it) "this paper is to be a secret for the present. Mr. Thomas will still +feign himself to be a Catholic, with Catholics, until he comes into all +his inheritances. And, meantime, he will supply information to his new +masters." + +"Why cannot we expose him?" + +"Where is the proof? He will deny it." + +She paused. + +"We can at least tell his family. You will draw up the informations?" + +"I will do so." + +"And send them to Sir Thomas and Mr. Bassett?" + +"I will do so." + +"That may perhaps prevent his inheritance coming to him as quickly as he +thinks." + +The lawyer's eyes gleamed. + +"And what of Mrs. Thomas, mistress?" + +Marjorie lifted her eyes. + +"I do not think a great deal of Mrs. Thomas," she said. "She is honest, +I think; but she could not be trusted with a secret. But I will tell +Mistress Babington, and I will warn what priests I can." + +"And if it leaks out?" + +"It must leak out." + +"And yourself? Can you meet Mr. Thomas again just now? He will be out in +three days." + +Marjorie drew a long breath. + +"No, sir; I cannot meet him. I should betray what I felt. I shall make +excuses to Mrs. Thomas, and go home to-morrow." + + + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +The "Red Bull" in Cheapside was all alight; a party had arrived there +from the coast not an hour ago, and the rooms that had been bespoken by +courier occupied the greater part of the second floor; the rest of the +house was already filled by another large company, spoken for by Mr. +Babington, although he himself was not one of them. And it seemed to the +shrewd landlord that these two parties were not wholly unknown to one +another, although, as a discreet man, he said nothing. + +The latest arrived party was plainly come from the coast. They had +arrived a little after sunset on this stormy August day, splashed to the +shoulders by the summer-mud, and drenched to the skin by the heavy +thunder-showers. Their baggage had a battered and sea-going air about +it, and the landlord thought he would not be far away if he conjectured +Rheims as their starting-point; there were three gentlemen in the party, +and four servants apparently; but he knew better than to ask questions +or to overhear what seemed rather over-familiar conversation between the +men and their masters. There was only one, however, whom he remembered +to have lodged before, over five years ago. The name of this one was Mr. +Alban. But all this was not his business. His duty was to be hearty and +deferential and entirely stupid; and certainly this course of behaviour +brought him a quantity of guests. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Alban, about half-past nine o'clock, had finished unstrapping his +luggage. It was of the most innocent description, and contained nothing +that all the world might not see. He had made arrangements that articles +of another kind should come over from Rheims under the care of one of +the "servants," whose baggage would be less suspected. The distribution +would take place in a day or two. These articles comprised five sets of +altar vessels, five sets of mass-vestments, made of a stuff woven of all +the liturgical colours together, a dozen books, a box of medals, another +of _Agnus Deis_--little wax medallions stamped with the figure of a Lamb +supporting a banner--a bunch of beads, and a heavy little square package +of very thin altar-stones. + +As he laid out the suit of clothes that he proposed to wear next day, +there was a rapping on his door. + +"Mr. Babington is come--sir." (The last word was added as an obvious +afterthought, in case of listeners.) + +Robin sprang up; the door was opened by his "servant," and Anthony came +in, smiling. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Anthony Babington had broadened and aged considerably during the +last five years. He was still youthful-looking, but he was plainly a man +and no longer a boy. And he presently said as much for his friend. + +"You are a man, Robin," he said.--"Why, it slipped my mind!" + +He knelt down promptly on the strip of carpet and kissed the palms of +the hands held out to him, as is the custom to do with newly-ordained +priests, and Robin murmured a blessing. + +Then the two sat down again. + +"And now for the news," said Robin. + +Anthony's face grew grave. + +"Yours first," he said. + +So Robin told him. He had been ordained priest a month ago, at +Châlons-sur-Marne.... The college was as full as it could hold.... They +had had an unadventurous journey. + +Anthony put a question or two, and was answered. + +"And now," said Robin, "what of Derbyshire; and of the country; and of +my father? And is it true that Ballard is taken?" + +Anthony threw an arm over the back of his chair, and tried to seem at +his ease. + +"Well," he said, "Derbyshire is as it ever was. You heard of Thomas +FitzHerbert's defection?" + +"Mistress Manners wrote to me of it, more than two years ago." + +"Well, he does what he can: he comes and goes with his wife or without +her. But he comes no more to Padley. And he scarcely makes a feint even +before strangers of being a Catholic, though he has not declared +himself, nor gone to church, at any rate in his own county. Here in +London I have seen him more than once in Topcliffe's company. But I +think that every Catholic in the country knows of it by now. That is +Mistress Manners' doing. My sister says there has never been a woman +like her." + +Robin's eyes twinkled. + +"I always said so," he said. "But none would believe me. She has the wit +and courage of twenty men. What has she been doing?" + +"What has she not done?" cried Anthony. "She keeps herself for the most +part in her house; and my sister spends a great deal of time with her; +but her men, who would die for her, I think, go everywhere; and half the +hog-herds and shepherds of the Peak are her sworn men. I have given your +Dick to her; he was mad to do what he could in that cause. So her men go +this way and that bearing her letters or her messages to priests who are +on their way through the county; and she gets news--God knows how!--of +what is a-stirring against us. She has saved Mr. Ludlam twice, and Mr. +Garlick once, as well as Mr. Simpson once, by getting the news to them +of the pursuivants' coming, and having them away into the Peak. And yet +with all this, she has never been laid by the heels." + +"Have they been after her, then?" asked Robin eagerly. + +"They have had a spy in her house twice to my knowledge, but never +openly; and never a shred of a priest's gown to be seen, though mass had +been said there that day. But they have never searched it by force. And +I think they do not truly suspect her at all." + +"Did I not say so?" cried Robin. "And what of my father? He wrote to me +that he was to be made magistrate; and I have never written to him +since." + +"He hath been made magistrate," said Anthony drily; "and he sits on the +bench with the rest of them." + +"Then he is all of the same mind?" + +"I know nothing of his mind. I have never spoken with him this six years +back. I know his acts only. His name was in the 'Bond of Association,' +too!" + +"I have heard of that." + +"Why, it is two years old now. Half the gentry of England have joined +it," said Anthony bitterly. "It is to persecute to the death any +pretender to the Crown other than our Eliza." + +There was a pause. Robin understood the bitterness. + +"And what of Mr. Ballard?" asked Robin. + +"Yes; he is taken," said Anthony slowly, watching him. "He was taken a +week ago." + +"Will they banish him, then?" + +"I think they will banish him." + +"Why, yes--it is the first time he hath been taken. And there is +nothing great against him?" + +"I think there is not," said Anthony, still with that strange +deliberateness. + +"Why do you look at me like that?" + +Anthony stood up without answering. Then he began to pace about. As he +passed the door he looked to the bolt carefully. Then he turned again to +his friend. + +"Robin," he said, "would you sooner know a truth that will make you +unhappy, or be ignorant of it?" + +"Does it concern myself or my business?" asked Robin promptly. + +"It concerns you and every priest and every Catholic in England. It is +what I have hinted to you before." + +"Then I will hear it." + +"It is as if I told it in confession?" + +Robin paused. + +"You may make it so," he said, "if you choose." + +Anthony looked at him an instant. "Well," he said, "I will not make a +confession, because there is no use in that now--but--Well, listen!" he +said, and sat down. + + +II + +When he ceased, Robin lifted his head. He was as white as a sheet. + +"You have been refused absolution before for this?" + +"I was refused absolution by two priests; but I was granted it by a +third." + +"Let me see that I have the tale right. + +"Yourself, with a number of others, have bound yourselves by an oath to +kill her Grace, and to set Mary on the throne. This has taken shape now +since the beginning of the summer. You yourself are now living in Mr. +Walsingham's house, in Seething Lane, under the patronage of her Grace, +and you show yourself freely at court. You have proceeded so far, under +fear of Mr. Ballard's arrest, as to provide one of your company with +clothes and necessaries that can enable him to go to court; and it was +your intention, as well as his, that he should take opportunity to kill +her Grace. But to-day only you have become persuaded that the old design +was the better; and you wish first to arrange matters with the Queen of +the Scots, so that when all is ready, you may be the more sure of a +rising when that her Grace is killed, and that the Duke of Parma may be +in readiness to bring an army into England. It is still your intention +to kill her Grace?" + +"By God! it is!" said Anthony, between clenched teeth. + +"Then I could not absolve you, even if you came to confession. You may +be absolved from your allegiance, as we all are; but you are not +absolved from charity and justice towards Elizabeth as a woman. I have +consulted theologians on the very point; and--" + +Then Anthony sprang up. + +"See here, Robin; we must talk this out." He flicked his fingers +sharply. "See--we will talk of it as two friends." + +"You had better take back those words," said the priest gravely. + +"Why?" + +"It would be my duty to lay an information! I understood you spoke to me +as to a priest, though not in confession." + +"You would!" blazed the other. + +"I should do so in conscience," said the priest. "But you have not yet +told me as a friend, and--" + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that so long as you choose to speak to me of it, now and here, +it remains that I choose to regard it as _sub sigillo_ in effect. But +you must not come to me to-morrow, as if I knew it all in a plain way. I +do not. I know it as a priest only." + +There was silence for a moment. Then Anthony stood up. + +"I understand," he said. "But you would refuse me absolution in any +case?" + +"I could not give you absolution so long as you intended to kill her +Grace." + +Anthony made an impatient gesture. + +"See here," he said. "Let me tell you the whole matter from the +beginning. Now listen." + +He settled himself again in his chair, and began. + + * * * * * + +"Robin," he said, "you remember when I spoke to you in the inn on the +way to Matstead; it must be seven or eight years gone now? Well, that +was when the beginning was. There was no design then, such as we have +to-day; but the general purpose was there. I had spoken with man after +man; I had been to France, and seen Mr. Morgan there, Queen Mary's man, +and my lord of Glasgow; and all that I spoke with seemed of one +mind--except my lord of Glasgow, who did not say much to me on the +matter. But all at least were agreed that there would be no peace in +England so long as Elizabeth sat on the throne. + +"Well: it was after that that I fell in with Ballard, who was over here +on some other affair; and I found him a man of the same mind as myself; +he was all agog for Mary, and seemed afraid of nothing. Well; nothing +was done for a great while. He wrote to me from France; I wrote back to +him again, telling him the names of some of my friends. I went to see +him in France two or three times; and I saw him here, when you yourself +came over with him. But we did not know whom to trust. Neither had we +any special design. Her Grace of the Scots went hither and thither +under strong guards; and what I had done for her before--" + +Robin looked up. He was still quite pale and quite quiet. + +"What was that?" he said. + +Anthony again made his impatient gesture. He was fiercely excited; but +kept himself under tolerable control. + +"Why, I have been her agent for a great while back, getting her letters +through to her, and such like. But last year, when that damned Sir Amyas +Paulet became her gaoler, I could do nothing. Two or three times my +messenger was stopped, and the letters taken from him. Well; after that +time I could do no more. There her Grace was, back again at Tutbury, and +none could get near her. She might no more give alms, even, to the poor; +and all her letters must go through Walsingham's hands. And then God +helped us: she was taken last autumn to Chartley, near by which is the +house of the Giffords; and since that time we have been almost merry. Do +you know Gilbert Gifford?" + +"He hath been with the Jesuits, hath he not?" + +"That is the man. Well, Mr. Gilbert Gifford hath been God's angel to us. +A quiet, still kind of a man--you have seen him?" + +"I have spoken with him at Rheims," said Robin. "I know nothing of him." + +"Well; he contrived the plan. He hath devised a beer-barrel that hath +the beer all roundabout, so that when they push their rods in, there +seems all beer within. But in the heart of the beer there is secured a +little iron case; and within the iron case there is space for papers. +Well, this barrel goes to and fro to Chartley and to a brewer that is a +good Catholic; and within the case there are the letters. And in this +way, all has been prepared--" + +Robin looked up again. He remained quiet through all the story; and +lifted no more than his eyes. His fingers played continually with a +button on his doublet. + +"You mean that Queen Mary hath consented to this?" + +"Why, yes!" + +"To her sister's death?" + +"Why, yes!" + +"I do not believe it," said the priest quietly. "On whose word does that +stand?" + +"Why, on her own! Whose else's?" snapped Anthony. + +"You mean, you have it in her own hand, signed by her name?" + +"It is in Gifford's hand! Is not that enough? And there is her seal to +it. It is in cypher, of course. What would you have?" + +"Where is she now?" asked Robin, paying no attention to the question. + +"She hath just now been moved again to Tixall." + +"For what?" + +"I do not know. What has that to do with the matter? She will be back +soon again. I tell you all is arranged." + +"Tell me the rest of the story," said the priest. + +"There is not much more. So it stands at present. I tell you her Grace +hath been tossed to and fro like a ball at play. She was at Chatsworth, +as you know; she has been shut up in Chartley like a criminal; she was +at Babington House even. God! if I had but known it in time!" + +"In Babington House! Why, when was that?" + +"Last year, early--with Sir Ralph Sadler, who was her gaoler then!" +cried Anthony bitterly; "but for a night only.... I have sold the +house." + +"Sold it!" + +"I do not keep prisons," snapped Anthony. "I will have none of it!" + +"Well?" + +"Well," resumed the other man quietly. "I must say that when Ballard was +taken--" + +"When was that?" + +"Last week only. Well, when he was taken I thought perhaps all was +known. But I find Mr. Walsingham's conversation very comforting, though +little he knows it, poor man! He knows that I am a Catholic; and he was +lamenting to me only three days ago of the zeal of these informers. He +said he could not save Ballard, so hot was the pursuit after him; that +he would lose favour with her Grace if he did." + +"What comfort is there in that?" + +"Why; it shows plain enough that nothing is known of the true facts. If +they were after him for this design of ours do you think that Walsingham +would speak like that? He would clap us all in ward--long ago." + +The young priest was silent. His head still whirled with the tale, and +his heart was sick at the misery of it all. This was scarcely the +home-coming he had looked for! He turned abruptly to the other. + +"Anthony, lad," he said, "I beseech you to give it up." + +Anthony smiled at him frankly. His excitement was sunk down again. + +"You were always a little soft," he said. "I remember you would have +nought to do with us before. Why, we are at war, I tell you; and it is +not we who declared it! They have made war on us now for the last twenty +years and more. What of all the Catholics--priests and others--who have +died on the gibbet, or rotted in prison? If her Grace makes war upon us, +why should we not make war upon her Grace? Tell me that, then!" + +"Anthony, I beseech you to give it up. I hate the whole matter, and fear +it, too." + +"Fear it? Why, I tell you, we hold them _so_." (He stretched out his +lean, young hand, and clenched the long fingers slowly together.) "We +have them by the throat. You will be glad enough to profit by it, when +Mary reigns. What is there to fear?" + +"I do not know; I am uneasy. But that is not to the purpose. I tell you +it is forbidden by God's--" + +"Uneasy! Fear it! Why, tell me what there is to fear? What hole can you +find anywhere?" + +"I do not know. I hardly know the tale yet. But it seems to me there +might be a hundred." + +"Tell me one of them, then." + +Anthony threw himself back with an indulgent smile on his face. + +"Why, if you will have it," said Robin, roused by the contempt, "there +is one great hole in this. All hangs upon Gifford's word, as it seems to +me. You have not spoken with Mary; you have not even her own hand on +it." + +"Bah! Why, her Grace of the Scots cannot write in cypher, do you think?" + +"I do not know how that may be. It may be so. But I say that all hangs +upon Gifford." + +"And you think Gifford can be a liar and a knave!" sneered Anthony. + +"I have not one word against him," said the priest. "But neither had I +against Thomas FitzHerbert; and you know what has befallen--" + +Anthony snorted with disdain. + +"Put your finger through another hole," he said. + +"Well--I like not the comfort that Mr. Secretary Walsingham has given +you. You told me a while ago that Ballard was on the eve of going to +France. Now Walsingham is no fool. I would to God he were! He has laid +enough of our men by the heels already." + +"By God!" cried Anthony, roused again. "I would not willingly call you +a fool either, my man! But do you not understand that Walsingham +believes me as loyal as himself? Here have I been at court for the last +year, bowing before her Grace, and never a word said to me on my +religion. And here is Walsingham has bidden me to lodge in his house, in +the midst of all his spider's webs. Do you think he would do that if--" + +"I think he might have done so," said Robin slowly. + +Anthony sprang to his feet. + +"My Robin," he said, "you were right enough when you said you would not +join with us. You were not made for this work. You would see an enemy in +your own father--" + +He stopped confounded. + +Robin smiled drearily. + +"I have seen one in him," he said. + +Anthony clapped him on the shoulder, not unkindly. + +"Forgive me, my Robin. I did not think what I said. Well; we will leave +it at that. And you would not give me absolution?" + +The priest shook his head. + +"Then give me your blessing," said Anthony, dropping on his knees. "And +so we will close up the _quasi-sigillum confessionis_." + + +III + +It was a heavy-hearted priest that presently, downstairs, stood with +Anthony in one of the guest-rooms, and was made known to half a dozen +strangers. Every word that he had heard upstairs must be as if it had +never been spoken, from the instant at which Anthony had first sat down +to the instant in which he had kneeled down to receive his blessing. So +much he knew from his studies at Rheims. He must be to each man that he +met, that which he would have been to him an hour ago. Yet, though as a +man he must know nothing, his priest's heart was heavy in his breast. It +was a strange home-coming--to pass from the ordered piety of the +college: to the whirl of politics and plots in which good and evil span +round together--honest and fiery zeal for God's cause, mingled with what +he was persuaded was crime and abomination. He had thought that a +priest's life would be a simple thing, but it seemed otherwise now. + +He spoke with those half-dozen men--those who knew him well enough for a +priest; and presently, when some of his own party came, drew aside again +with Anthony, who began to tell him in a low voice of the personages +there. + +"These are all my private friends," he said, "and some of them be men of +substance in their own place. There is Mr. Charnoc, of Lancashire, he +with the gilt sword. He is of the Court of her Grace, and comes and goes +as he pleases. He is lodged in Whitehall, and comes here but to see his +friends. And there is Mr. Savage, in the new clothes, with his beard cut +short. He is a very honest fellow, but of a small substance, though of +good family enough." + +"Her Grace has some of her ladies, too, that are Catholics, has she +not?" asked Robin. + +"There are two or three at least, and no trouble made. They hear mass +when they can at the Embassies. Mendoza is a very good friend of ours." + +Mr. Charnoc came up presently to the two. He was a cheerful-looking man, +of northern descent, very particular in his clothes, with large gold +ear-rings; he wore a short, pointed beard above his stiff ruff, and his +eyes were bright and fanatical. + +"You are from Rheims, I understand, Mr. Alban." + +He sat down with something of an air next to Robin. + +"And your county--?" he asked. + +"I am from Derbyshire, sir," said Robin. + +"From Derbyshire. Then you will have heard of Mistress Marjorie Manners, +no doubt." + +"She is an old friend of mine," said Robin, smiling. (The man had a +great personal charm about him.) + +"You are very happy in your friends, then," said the other. "I have +never spoken with her myself; but I hear of her continually as assisting +our people--sending them now up into the Peak country, now into the +towns, as the case may be--and never a mistake." + + * * * * * + +It was delightful to Robin to hear her praised, and he talked of her +keenly and volubly. Exactly that had happened which five years ago he +would have thought impossible; for every trace of his old feeling +towards her was gone, leaving behind, and that only in the very deepest +intimacies of his thought, a sweet and pleasant romance, like the glow +in the sky when the sun is gone down. Little by little that had come +about which, in Marjorie, had transformed her when she first sent him to +Rheims. It was not that reaction had followed; there was no contempt, +either of her or of himself, for what he had once thought of her; but +another great passion had risen above it--a passion of which the human +lover cannot even guess, kindled for one that is greater than man; a +passion fed, trained and pruned by those six years of studious peace at +Rheims, directed by experts in humanity. There he had seen what Love +could do when it could rise higher than its human channels; he had seen +young men, scarcely older than himself, set out for England, as for +their bridals, exultant and on fire; and back to Rheims had come again +the news of their martyrdom: this one died, crying to Jesu as a +home-coming child cries to his mother at the garden-gate; this one had +said nothing upon the scaffold, but his face (they said who brought the +news) had been as the face of Stephen at his stoning; and others had +come back themselves, banished, with pain of death on their returning, +yet back once more these had gone. And, last, more than once, there had +crept back to Rheims, borne on a litter all the way from the coast, the +phantom of a man who a year or two ago had played "cat" and shouted at +the play--now a bent man, grey-haired, with great scars on wrists and +ankles.... _Te Deums_ had been sung in the college chapel when the news +of the deaths had come: there were no _requiems_ for such as these; and +the place of the martyr in the refectory was decked with flowers.... +Robin had seen these things, and wondered whether his place, too, would +some day be so decked. + +For Marjorie, then, he felt nothing but a happy friendliness, and a real +delight when he thought of seeing her again. It was glorious, he +thought, that she had done so much; that her name was in all men's +mouths. And he had thought, when he had first gone to Rheims, that he +would do all and she nothing! He had written to her then, freely and +happily. He had told her that she must give him shelter some day, as she +was doing for so many. + +Meanwhile it was pleasant to hear her praises. + +"'Eve would be Eve,'" quoted Mr. Charnoc presently, in speaking of pious +women's obstinacy, "'though Adam would say Nay.'" + + * * * * * + +Then, at last, when Mr. Charnoc said that he must be leaving for his own +lodgings, and stood up; once more upon Robin's heart there fell the +horrible memory of all that he had heard upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +It was strange to Robin to walk about the City, and to view all that he +saw from his new interior position. The last time that he had been in +his own country on that short visit with "Captain Fortescue," he had +been innocent in the eyes of the law, or, at least, no more guilty than +any one of the hundreds of young men who, in spite of the regulations, +were sent abroad to finish their education amid Catholic surroundings. +Now, however, his very presence was an offence: he had broken every law +framed expressly against such cases as his; he had studied abroad, he +had been "ordained beyond the seas"; he had read his mass in his own +bedchamber; he had, practically, received a confession; and it was his +fixed and firm intention to "reconcile" as many of "her Grace's +subjects" as possible to the "Roman See." And, to tell the truth, he +found pleasure in the sheer adventure of it, as would every young man of +spirit; and he wore his fine clothes, clinked his sword, and cocked his +secular hat with delight. + +The burden of what he had heard still was heavy on him. It was true that +in a manner inconceivable to any but a priest it lay apart altogether +from his common consciousness: he had talked freely enough to Mr. +Charnoc and the rest; he could not, even by a momentary lapse, allow +what he knew to colour even the thoughts by which he dealt with men in +ordinary life; for though it was true that no confession had been made, +yet it was in virtue of his priesthood that he had been told so much. +Yet there were moments when he walked alone, with nothing else to +distract him, when the cloud came down again; and there were moments, +too, in spite of himself, when his heart beat with another emotion, when +he pictured what might not be five years hence, if Elizabeth were taken +out of the way and Mary reigned in her stead. He knew from his father +how swiftly and enthusiastically the old Faith had come back with Mary +Tudor after the winter of Edward's reign. And if, as some estimated, a +third of England were still convincedly Catholic, and perhaps not more +than one twentieth convincedly Protestant, might not Mary Stuart, with +her charm, accomplish more even than Mary Tudor with her lack of it? + + * * * * * + +He saw many fine sights during the three or four days after his coming +to London; for he had to wait there at least that time, until a party +that was expected from the north should arrive with news of where he was +to go. These were the instructions he had had from Rheims. So he walked +freely abroad during these days to see the sights; and even ventured to +pay a visit to Fathers Garnett and Southwell, two Jesuits that arrived a +month ago, and were for the present lodging in my Lord Vaux's house in +Hackney. + +He was astonished at Father Southwell's youthfulness. + +This priest had landed but a short while before, and, for the present, +was remaining quietly in the edge of London with the older man; for +himself was scarcely twenty-five years old, and looked twenty at the +most. He was very quiet and sedate, with a face of almost feminine +delicacy, and passed a good deal of his leisure, as the old lord told +Robin, in writing verses. He appeared a strangely fine instrument for +such heavy work as was a priest's. + +On another day Robin saw the Archbishop land at Westminster Stairs. + +It was a brilliant day of sunshine as he came up the river-bank, and a +little crowd of folks at the head of the stairs drew his attention. Then +he heard, out of sight, the throb of oars grow louder; then a cry of +command; and, as he reached the head of the stairs and looked over, the +Archbishop, with a cloak thrown over his rochet, was just stepping out +of the huge gilded barge, whose blue-and-silver liveried oarsmen +steadied the vessel, or stood at the salute. It was a gay and dignified +spectacle as he perceived, in spite of his intense antipathy to the +sight of a man who, to him, was no better than an usurper and a deceiver +of the people. Dr. Whitgift, too, was no friend to Catholics: he had, +for instance, deliberately defended the use of the rack against them and +others, unashamed; and in one particular instance, at least, as Bishop +of Worcester, had directed its exercise in the county of Denbigh. These +things were perfectly known, of course, even beyond the seas, to the +priests who were to go on the English mission, in surprising detail. +Robin knew even that this man was wholly ignorant of Greek; he looked at +him carefully as he came up the stairs, and was surprised at the kindly +face of him, thin-lipped, however, though with pleasant, searching eyes. +His coach was waiting outside Old Palace Yard, and Robin, following with +the rest of the little crowd, saluted him respectfully as he climbed +into it, followed by a couple of chaplains. + +As he walked on, he glanced back across the river at Lambeth. There it +lay, then, the home of Warham and Pole and Morton, with the water +lapping its towers. It had once stood for the spiritual State of God in +England, facing its partner--(and sometimes its rival)--Westminster and +Whitehall; now it was a department of the civil State merely. It was +occupied by men such as Dr. Grindal, sequestrated and deprived of even +his spiritual functions by the woman who now grasped all the reins of +the Commonwealth; and now again by the man whom he had just seen, placed +there by the same woman to carry out her will more obediently against +all who denied her supremacy in matters spiritual as well as temporal, +whether Papists or Independents. + + * * * * * + +The priest was astonished, as he reached the precincts of Whitehall, to +observe the number of guards that were everywhere visible. He had been +warned at Rheims not to bring himself into too much notice, no more than +markedly to avoid it; so he did not attempt to penetrate even the outer +courts or passages. Yet it seemed to him that an air of watchfulness was +everywhere. At the gate towards which he looked at least half a dozen +men were on formal guard, their uniforms and weapons sparkling +brilliantly in the sunshine; and besides these, within the open doors he +caught sight of a couple of officers. As he stood there, a man came out +of one of the houses near the gate, and turned towards it: he was +immediately challenged, and presently passed on within, where one of the +officers came forward to speak to him. Then Robin thought he had stood +looking long enough, and moved away. + + * * * * * + +He came back to the City across the fields, half a mile away from the +river, and, indeed, it was a glorious sight he had before him. Here, +about him, was open ground on either side of the road on which he +walked; and there, in front, rose up on the slope of the hill the long +line of great old houses, beyond the stream that ran down into the +Thames--old Religious Houses for the most part, now disguised and pulled +about beyond recognition, ranging right and left from the Ludgate +itself: behind these rose again towers and roofs, and high above all the +tall spire of the Cathedral, as if to gather all into one, culminant +aspiration.... The light from the west lay on every surface that looked +to his left, golden and rosy; elsewhere lay blue and dusky shadows. + + +II + +"There is a letter for you, sir," said the landlord, who had an uneasy +look on his face, as the priest came through the entrance of the inn. + +Robin took it. Its superscription ran shortly: "To Mr. Alban, at the Red +Bull Inn in Cheapside. Haste. Haste. Haste." + +He turned it over; it was sealed plainly on the back without arms or any +device; it was a thick package, and appeared as if it might hold an +enclosure or two. + +Robin had learned caution in a good school, and what is yet more vital +in true caution, an appearance of carelessness. He weighed the packet +easily in his hand, as if it were of no value, though he knew it might +contain very questionable stuff from one of his friends, and glanced at +a quantity of baggage that lay heaped beside the wall. + +"What is all this?" he said. "Another party arrived?" + +"No, sir; the party is leaving. Rather, it is left already; and the +gentlemen bade me have the baggage ready here. They would send for it +later, they told me." + +This was unusually voluble from this man. Robin looked at him quickly, +and away again. + +"What party?" he said. + +"The gentlemen you were with this two nights past, sir," said the +landlord keenly. + +Robin was aware of a feeling as if a finger had been laid on his heart; +but not a muscle of his face moved. + +"Indeed!" he said. "They told me nothing of it." + +Then he moved on easily, feeling the landlord's eyes in every inch of +his back, and went leisurely upstairs. + +He reached his room, bolted the door softly behind him, and sat down. +His heart was going now like a hammer. Then he opened the packet; an +enclosure fell out of it, also sealed, but without direction of any +kind. Then he saw that the sheet in which the packet had come was itself +covered with writing, rather large and sprawling, as if written in +haste. He put the packet aside, and then lifted the paper to read it. + + * * * * * + +When he had finished, he sat quite still. The room looked to him misty +and unreal; the paper crackled in his shaking fingers, and a drop of +sweat ran suddenly into the corner of his dry lips. Then he read the +paper again. It ran as follows: + +"It is all found out, we think. I find myself watched at every point, +and I can get no speech with B. I cannot go forth from the house without +a fellow to follow me, and two of my friends have found the same. Mr. +G., too, hath been with Mr. W. this three hours back. By chance I saw +him come in, and he has not yet left again. Mr. Ch. is watching for me +while I write this, and will see that this letter is bestowed on a +trusty man who will bring it to your inn, and, with it, another letter +to bid our party save themselves while they can. I do not know how we +shall fare, but we shall meet at a point that is fixed, and after that +evade or die together. You were right, you see. Mr. G. has acted the +traitor throughout, with Mr. W.'s connivance and assistance. I beg of +you, then, to carry this letter, which I send in this, to Her for whom +we have forfeited our lives, or, at least, our country; or, if you +cannot take it with safety, master the contents of it by rote and +deliver it to her with your own mouth. She has been taken back to C. +again, whither you must go, and all her effects searched." + +There was no signature, but there followed a dash of the pen, and then a +scrawled "A.B.," as if an interruption had come, or as if the man who +was with the writer would wait no longer. + + * * * * * + +A third time Robin read it through. It was terribly easy of +interpretation. "B." was Ballard; "G." was Gifford; "W." was Walsingham; +"Ch." was Charnoc; "Her" was Mary Stuart; "C." was Chartley. It fitted +and made sense like a child's puzzle. And, if the faintest doubt could +remain in the most incredulous mind as to the horrible reality of it +all, there was the piled luggage downstairs, that would never be "sent +for" (and never, indeed, needed again by its owners in this world). + +Then he took up the second sealed packet, and held it unbroken, while +his mind flew like a bird, and in less than a minute he decided, and +opened it. + +It was a piteous letter, signed again merely "A.B.," and might have been +written by any broken-hearted reverent lover to his beloved. It spoke an +eternal good-bye; the writer said that he would lay down his life gladly +again in such a cause if it were called for, and would lay down a +thousand if he had them; he entreated her to look to herself, for that +no doubt every attempt would now be made to entrap her; and it warned +her to put no longer any confidence in a "detestable knave, G.G." +Finally, he begged that "Jesu would have her in His holy keeping," and +that if matters fell out as he thought they would, she would pray for +his soul, and the souls of all that had been with him in the enterprise. + +He read it through three or four times; every line and letter burned +itself into his brain. Then he tore it across and across; then he tore +the letter addressed to himself in the same manner; then he went through +all the fragments, piece by piece, tearing each into smaller fragments, +till there remained in his hands just a bunch of tiny scraps, smaller +than snowflakes, and these he scattered out of the window. + +Then he went to his door, unbolted it, and walked downstairs to find the +landlord. + + +III + +It was not until ten days later, soon after dawn, that Robin set out on +his melancholy errand. He rode out northward as soon as the gates were +opened, with young "Mr. Arnold," a priest ordained with him in Rheims, +and one of his party, disguised as a servant, following him on a +pack-horse with the luggage. It was a misty morning, white and +cheerless, with the early fog that had drifted up from the river. Last +night the news had come in that Anthony and at least one other had been +taken near Harrow, in disguise, and the streets had been full of riotous +rejoicing over the capture. + +He had thought it more prudent to wait till after receiving the news, +which he so much dreaded, lest haste should bring suspicion on himself, +and the message that he carried; since for him, too, to disappear at +once would have meant an almost inevitable association of him with the +party of plotters; but it had been a hard time to pass through. Early in +the morning, after Anthony's flight, he had awakened to hear a rapping +upon the inn door, and, peeping from his window, had seen a couple of +plainly dressed men waiting for admittance; but after that he had seen +no more of them. He had deliberately refrained from speaking with the +landlord, except to remark again upon the luggage of which he caught a +sight, piled no longer in the entrance, but in the little room that the +man himself used. The landlord had said shortly that it had not yet been +sent for. And the greater part of the day--after he had told the +companions that had come with him from Rheims that he had had a letter, +which seemed to show that the party with whom they had made friends had +disappeared, and were probably under suspicion, and had made the +necessary arrangements for his own departure with young Mr. Arnold--he +spent in walking abroad as usual. The days that followed had been bitter +and heavy. He had liked neither to stop within doors nor to go abroad, +since the one course might arouse inquiry and the second lead to his +identification. He had gone to my Lord Vaux's house again and again, +with his friend and without him; he had learned of the details of +Anthony's capture, though he had not dared even to attempt to get speech +with him; and, further, that unless the rest of the men were caught, it +would not be easy to prove anything against him. One thing, therefore, +he prayed for with all his heart--that the rest might yet escape. He +told his party something of the course of events, but not too much. On +the Sunday that intervened he went to hear mass in Fetter Lane, where +numbers of Catholics resorted; and there, piece by piece, learned more +of the plot than even Anthony had told him. + +Mr. Arnold was a Lancashire man and a young convert of Oxford--one of +that steady small stream that poured over to the Continent--a +sufficiently well-born and intelligent man to enjoy acting as a servant, +which he did with considerable skill. It was common enough for gentlemen +to ride side by side with their servants when they had left the town; +and by the time that the two were clear of the few scattered houses +outside the City gates, Mr. Arnold urged on his horse; and they rode +together. Robin was in somewhat of a difficulty as to how far he was +justified in speaking of what he knew. It was true that he was not at +liberty to use what Anthony had originally told him; but the letter and +the commission which he had received certainly liberated his conscience +to some degree, since it told him plainly enough that there was a plot +on behalf of Mary, that certain persons, one or two of whom he knew for +himself, were involved in it, that they were under suspicion, and that +they had fled. Ordinary discretion, however, was enough to make him hold +his tongue, beyond saying, as he had said already to the rest of them, +that he was the bearer of a message from Mr. Babington, now in prison, +to Mary Stuart. Mr. Arnold had been advertised that he might take up his +duties in Lancashire as soon as he liked; but, because of his +inexperience and youth, it had been decided that he had better ride with +"Mr. Alban" so far as Chartley at least, and thence, if all were well, +go on to Lancaster itself, where his family was known, and whither he +could return, for the present, without suspicion. + + * * * * * + +The roads, such as they were, were in a terrible state still with the +heavy rain of a few days ago, and the further showers that had fallen in +the night. They made very poor progress, and by dinner-time were not yet +in sight of Watford. But they pushed on, coming at last about one +o'clock to that little town, all gathered together in the trench of the +low hills. There was a modest inn in the main street, with a little +garden behind it; and while Mr. Arnold took the horses off for watering, +Robin went through to the garden, sat down, and ordered food to be +served for himself and his man together. The day was warmer, and the sun +came out as they sat over their meal. When they had done, Robin sent his +friend off again for the horses. They must not delay longer than was +necessary, if they wished to sleep at Leighton, and give the horses +their proper rest. + + * * * * * + +When he was left alone, he fell a-thinking once more; and, what with the +morning's ride and the air and the sunshine, and the sense of liberty, +he was inclined to be more cheerful. Surely England was large enough to +hide the rest of the plotters for a time, until they could get out of +it. Anthony was taken, indeed, yet, without the rest, he might very well +escape conviction. Robin had not been challenged in any way; the +gatekeepers had looked at him, indeed, as he came out of the City; but +so they always did, and the landlady here had run her eyes over him; but +that was the way of landladies who wished to know how much should be +charged to travellers. And if he had come out so easily, why should not +his friends? All turned now, to his mind, on whether the rest of the +conspirators could evade the pursuivants or not. + +He stood up presently to stretch his legs before mounting again, and as +he stood up he heard running footsteps somewhere beyond the house: they +died away; but then came the sound of another runner, and of another, +and he heard voices calling. Then a window was flung up beyond the +house; steps came rattling down the stairs within and passed out into +the street. It was probably a bull that had escaped, or a mad dog, he +thought, or some rustic excitement of that kind, and he thought he would +go and see it for himself; so he passed out through the house, just in +time to meet Mr. Arnold coming round with the horses. + +"What was the noise about?" he asked. + +The other looked at him. + +"I heard none, sir," he said. "I was in the stable." + +Robin looked up and down the street. It seemed as empty as it should be +on a summer's day; two or three women were at the doors of their houses, +and an old dog was asleep in the sun. There was no sign of any +disturbance. + +"Where is the woman of the house?" asked Robin. + +"I do not know, sir." + +They could not go without paying; but Robin marvelled at the simplicity +of these folks, to leave a couple of guests free to ride away; he went +within again and called out, but there was no one to be seen. + +"This is laughable," he said, coming out again. "Shall we leave a mark +behind us and be off?" + +"Are they all gone, sir?" asked the other, staring at him. + +"I heard some running and calling out just now," said Robin. "I suppose +a message must have been brought to the house." + +Then, as he stood still, hesitating, a noise of voices arose suddenly +round the corner of the street, and a group of men with pitchforks ran +out from a gateway on the other side, fifty yards away, crossed the +road, and disappeared again. Behind them ran a woman or two, a barking +dog, and a string of children. But Robin thought he had caught a glimpse +of some kind of officer's uniform at the head of the running men, and +his heart stood still. + + +IV + +Neither of the two spoke for a moment. + +"Wait here with the horses," said Robin. "I must see what all this is +about." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Arnold was scarcely more than a boy still, and he had all the desire +of a boy, if he saw an excited crowd, to join himself to it. But he was +being a servant just now, and must do what he was told. So he waited +patiently with the two horses that tossed their jingling heads and +stamped and attempted to kick flies off impossibly remote parts of their +bodies. Certainly, the excitement was growing. After he had seen his +friend walk quickly down the road and turn off where the group of +rustically-armed men had disappeared in the direction where newly-made +haystacks shaded their gables beyond the roofs of the houses, several +other figures appeared through the opposite gateway in hot pursuit. One +was certainly a guard of some kind, a stout, important-looking fellow, +who ran and wheezed as he ran loud enough to be heard at the inn door. +The women standing before the houses, too, presently were after the +rest--all except one old dame, who put her head forth, and peered this +way and that with a vindictive anger at having been left all alone. More +yet showed themselves--children dragging puppies after them, an old man +with a large rusty sword, a couple of lads each with a pike--these +appeared, like figures in a pantomime play, whisking into sight from +between the houses, and all disappearing again immediately. + +And then, all on a sudden, a great clamour of voices began, all shouting +together, as if some quarry had been sighted: it grew louder, sharp +cries of command rang above the roar. Then there burst out of the side, +where all had gone in, a ball of children, which exploded into fragments +and faced about, still with a couple of puppies that barked shrilly; and +then, walking very fast and upright, came Mr. Robin Audrey, white-faced +and stern, straight up to where the lad waited with the horses. + +Robin jerked his head. + +"Quick!" he said. "We must be off, or we shall be here all night." He +gathered up his reins for mounting. + +"What is it, sir?" asked the other, unable to be silent. + +"They have caught some fellows," he said. + +"And the inn-account, sir?" + +Robin pulled out a couple of coins from his pouch. + +"Put that on the table within," he said. "We can wait no longer. Give me +your reins!" + +His manner was so dreadful that the young man dared ask no more. He ran +in, laid the coins down (they were more than double what could have been +asked for their entertainment), came out again, and mounted his own +horse that his friend held. As they rode down the street, he could not +refrain from looking back, as a great roar of voices broke out again; +but he could see no more than a crowd of men, with the pitchforks moving +like spears on the outskirt, as if they guarded prisoners within, come +out between the houses and turn up towards the inn they themselves had +just left. + + * * * * * + +As they came clear of the village and out again upon the open road, +Robin turned to him, and his face was still pale and stern. + +"Mr. Arnold," he said, "those were the last of my friends that I told +you of. Now they have them all, and there is no longer any hope. They +found them behind the haystacks next to the garden where we dined. They +must have been there all night." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +It was in the evening of the fourth day after their start that, riding +up alongside of the Blythe, they struck out to the northwest, away from +the trees, and saw the woods of Chartley not half a mile away. Robin +sighed with relief, though, as a fact, his adventure was scarcely more +than begun, since he had yet to learn how he could get speech with the +Queen; but, at least, he was within sight of her, and of his own country +as well. Far away, eastwards, beyond the hills, not twenty miles off, +lay Derby. + + * * * * * + +It had been a melancholy ride, in spite of the air of freedom through +which they rode, since news had come to them, in more than one place, of +the fortunes of the Babington party. A courier, riding fast, had passed +them as they sighted Buckingham; and by the time they came in, he was +gone again, on Government business (it was said), and the little town +hummed with rumours, out of which emerged, at any rate, the certainty +that the whole company had been captured. At Coventry, again, the +tidings had travelled faster than themselves; for here it was reported +that Mr. Babington and Mr. Charnoc had been racked; and in Lichfield, +last of all, the tale was complete, and (as they learned later) +tolerably accurate too. + +It was from a clerk in the inn there that the story came, who declared +that there was no secrecy about the matter any longer, and that he +himself had seen the tale in writing. It ran as follows: + +The entire plot had been known from the beginning, Gilbert Gifford had +been an emissary of Walsingham's throughout; and every letter that +passed to and from the various personages had passed through the +Secretary's hands and been deciphered in his house. There never had been +one instant in which Mr. Walsingham had been at fault, or in the dark: +he had gone so far, it was reported, as to insert in one of the letters +that was to go to Mr. Babington a request for the names of all the +conspirators, and in return there had come from him, not only a list of +the names, but a pictured group of them, with Mr. Babington himself in +the midst. This picture had actually been shown to her Grace in order +that she might guard herself against private assassination, since two or +three of the group were in her own household. + +"It is like to go hard with the Scots Queen!" said the clerk bitterly. +"She has gone too far this time." + +Robin said nothing to commit himself, for he did not know on which side +the man ranged himself; but he drew him aside after dinner, and asked +whether it might be possible to get a sight of the Queen. + +"I am riding to Derby," he said, "with my man. But if to turn aside at +Chartley would give us a chance of seeing her, I would do so. A queen in +captivity is worth seeing. And I can see you are a man of influence." + +The clerk looked at him shrewdly; he was a man plainly in love with his +own importance, and the priest's last words were balm to him. + +"It might be done," he said. "I do not know." + +Robin saw the impression he had made, and that the butter could not be +too thick. + +"I am sure you could do it for me," he said, "if any man could. But I +understand that a man of your position may be unwilling--" + +The clerk solemnly laid a hand on the priest's arm. + +"Well, I will tell you this," he said. "Get speech with Mr. Bourgoign, +her apothecary. He alone has access to her now, besides her own women. +It might be he could put you in some private place to see her go by." + +This was not much use, thought Robin; but, at least, it gave him +something to begin at: so he thanked the clerk solemnly and +reverentially, and was rewarded by another discreet pat on the arm. + + * * * * * + +The sight of the Chartley woods, tall and splendid in the light of the +setting sun, and already tinged here and there with the first marks of +autumn, brought his indecision to a point; and he realized that he had +no plan. He had heard that Mary occasionally rode abroad, and he hoped +perhaps to get speech with her that way; but what he had heard from the +clerk and others showed him that this small degree of liberty was now +denied to the Queen. In some way or another he must get news of Mr. +Bourgoign. Beyond that he knew nothing. + + * * * * * + +The great gates of Chartley were closed as the two came up to them. +There was a lodge beside them, and a sentry stood there. A bell was +ringing from the great house within the woods, no doubt for supper-time, +but there was no other human being besides the sentry to be seen. So +Robin did not even check his weary horse; but turned only, with a +deliberately curious air, as he went past and rode straight on. Then, as +he rounded a corner he saw smoke going up from houses, it seemed, +outside the park. + +"What is that?" asked Arnold suddenly. "Do you hear--?" + +A sound of a galloping horse grew louder behind them, and a moment +afterwards the sound of another. The two priests were still in view of +the sentry; and knowing that Chartley was guarded now as if it had all +the treasures of the earth within, Robin reflected that to show too +little interest might arouse as sharp suspicion as too much. So he +wheeled his horse round and stopped to look. + +They heard the challenge of the sentry within, and then the unbarring of +the gates. An instant later a courier dashed out and wheeled to the +right, while at the same time the second galloper came to view--another +courier on a jaded horse; and the two passed--the one plainly riding to +London, the second arriving from it. The gates were yet open; but the +second was challenged once more before he was allowed to pass and his +hoofs sounded on the road that led to the house. Then the gates clashed +together again. + +Robin turned his horse's head once more towards the houses, conscious +more than ever how near he was to the nerves of England's life, and what +tragic ties they were between the two royal cousins, that demanded such +a furious and frequent exchange of messages. + +"We must do our best here," he said, nodding towards the little hamlet. + + +II + +It was plainly a newly-grown little group of houses that bordered the +side of the road away from the enclosed park--sprung up as a kind of +overflow lodging for the dependants necessary to such a suddenly +increased household; for the houses were no more than wooden dwellings, +ill-roofed and ill-built, with the sap scarcely yet finished oozing from +the ends of the beams and the planks. Smoke was issuing, in most cases, +from rough holes cut in the roofs, and in the last rays of sunshine two +or three men were sitting on stools set out before the houses. + +Robin checked his horse before a man whose face seemed kindly, and who +saluted courteously the fine gentleman who looked about with such an +air. + +"My horse is dead-spent," he said curtly. "Is there an inn here where my +man and I can find lodging?" + +The man shook his head, looking at the horse compassionately. He had the +air of a groom about him. + +"I fear not, sir, not within five miles; at least, not with a room to +spare." + +"This is Chartley, is it not?" asked the priest, noticing that the next +man, too, was listening. + +"Aye, sir." + +"Can you tell me if my friend Mr. Bourgoign lodges in the house, or +without the gates?" + +"Mr. Bourgoign, sir? A friend of yours?" + +"I hope so," said Robin, smiling, and keeping at least within the letter +of truth. + +The man mused a moment. + +"It is possible he might help you, sir. He lodges in the house; but he +comes sometimes to see a woman that is sick here." + +Robin demanded where she lived. + +"At the last house, sir--a little beyond the rest. She is one of her +Grace's kitchen-women. They moved her out here, thinking it might be the +fever she had." + +This was plainly a communicative fellow; but the priest thought it wiser +not to take too much interest. He tossed the man a coin and rode on. + + * * * * * + +The last house was a little better built than the others, and stood +further back from the road. Robin dismounted here, and, with a nod to +Mr. Arnold, who was keeping his countenance admirably, walked up to the +door and knocked on it. It was opened instantly, as if he were expected, +but the woman's face fell when she saw him. + +"Is Mr. Bourgoign within?" asked the priest. + +The woman glanced over him before answering, and then out to where the +horses waited. + +"No, sir," she said at last. "We were looking for him just now...." +(She broke off.) "He is coming now," she said. + +Robin turned, and there, walking down the road, was an old man, leaning +on a stick, richly and soberly dressed in black, wearing a black beaver +hat on his head. A man-servant followed him at a little distance. + +The priest saw that here was an opportunity ready-made; but there was +one more point on which he must satisfy himself first, and what seemed +to him an inspiration came to his mind. + +"He looks like a minister," he said carelessly. + +A curious veiled look came over the woman's face. Robin made a bold +venture. He smiled full in her face. + +"You need not fear," he said. "I quarrel with no man's religion;" and, +at the look in her face at this, he added: "You are a Catholic, I +suppose? Well, I am one too. And so, I suppose, is Mr. Bourgoign." + +The woman smiled tremulously, and the fear left her eyes. + +"Yes, sir," she said. "All the friends of her Grace are Catholics, I +think." + +He nodded to her again genially. Then, turning, he went to meet the +apothecary, who was now not thirty yards away. + + * * * * * + +It was a pathetic old figure that was hobbling towards him. He seemed a +man of near seventy years old, with a close-cropped beard and spectacles +on his nose, and he carried himself heavily and ploddingly. Robin argued +to himself that it must be a kindly man who would come out at this +hour--perhaps the one hour he had to himself--to visit a poor dependant. +Yet all this was sheer conjecture; and, as the old man came near, he saw +there was something besides kindliness in the eyes that met his own. + +He saluted boldly and deferentially. + +"Mr. Bourgoign," he said in a low voice, "I must speak five minutes with +you. And I ask you to make as if you were my friend." + +The old man stiffened like a watch-dog. It was plain that he was on his +guard. + +"I do not know you, sir." + +"I entreat you to do as I ask. I am a priest, sir. I entreat you to take +my hand as if we were friends." + +A look of surprise went over the physician's face. + +"You can send me packing in ten minutes," went on Robin rapidly, at the +same time holding out his hand. "And we will talk here in the road, if +you will." + +There was still a moment's hesitation. Then he took the priest's hand. + +"I am come straight from London," went on Robin, still speaking clearly, +yet with his lips scarcely moving. "A fortnight ago I talked with Mr. +Babington." + +The old man drew his arm close within his own. + +"You have said enough, or too much, at present, sir. You shall walk with +me a hundred yards up this road, and justify what you have said." + +"We have had a weary ride of it, Mr. Bourgoign.... I am on the road to +Derby," went on Robin, talking loudly enough now to be overheard, as he +hoped, by any listeners. "And my horse is spent.... I will tell you my +business," he added in a lower tone, "as soon as you bid me." + +Fifty yards up the road the old man pressed his arm again. + +"You can tell me now, sir," he said. "But we will walk, if you please, +while you do so." + + * * * * * + +"First," said Robin, after a moment's consideration as to his best +beginning, "I will tell you the name I go by. It is Mr. Alban. I am a +newly-made priest, as I told you just now; I came from Rheims scarcely a +fortnight ago. I am from Derbyshire; and I will tell you my proper name +at the end, if you wish it." + +"Repeat the blessing of the deacon by the priest at mass," murmured Mr. +Bourgoign to the amazement of the other, without the change of an +inflection in his voice or a movement of his hand. + +"_Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis_--" began the priest. + +"That is enough, sir, for the present. Well?" + +"Next," said Robin, hardly yet recovered from the extraordinary +promptness of the challenge--"Next, I was speaking with Mr. Babington a +fortnight ago." + +"In what place?" + +"In the inn called the 'Red Bull,' in Cheapside." + +"Good. I have lodged there myself," said the other. "And you are one--" + +"No, sir," said Robin, "I do not deny that I spoke with them all--with +Mr. Charnoc and--" + +"That is enough of those names, sir," said the other, with a small and +fearful lift of his white eyebrows, as if he dreaded the very trees that +nearly met overhead in this place. "And what is your business?" + +"I have satisfied you, then--" began Robin. + +"Not at all, sir. You have answered sufficiently so far; that is all. I +wish to know your business." + +"The night following the day on which the men fled, of whom I have just +spoken, I had a letter from--from their leader. He told me that all was +lost, and he gave me a letter to her Grace here--" + +He felt the thin old sinews under his hand contract suddenly, and +paused. + +"Go on, sir," whispered the old voice. + +"A letter to her Grace, sir. I was to use my discretion whether I +carried it with me, or learned it by rote. I have other interests at +stake besides this, and I used my discretion, and destroyed the letter." + +"But you have some writing, no doubt--" + +"I have none," said Robin. "I have my word only." + +There was a pause. + +"Was the message private?" + +"Private only to her Grace's enemies. I will tell you the substance of +it now, if you will." + +The old man, without answering, steered his companion nearer to the +wall; then he relinquished the supporting arm, and leaned himself +against the stones, fixing his eyes full upon the priest, and searching, +as it seemed, every feature of his face and every detail of his dress. + +"Was the message important, sir?" + +"Important only to those who value love and fidelity." + +"I could deliver it myself, then?" + +"Certainly, sir. If you will give me your word to deliver it to her +Grace, as I deliver it to you, and to none else, I will ride on and +trouble you no more." + +"That is enough," said the physician decidedly. "I am completely +satisfied, Mr. Alban. All that remains is to consider how I can get you +to her Grace." + +"But if you yourself will deliver--" began Robin. + +An extraordinary spasm passed over the other's face, that might denote +any fierce emotion, either of anger or grief. + +"Do you think it is that?" he hissed. "Why, man, where is your +priesthood? Do you think the poor dame within would not give her soul +for a priest?... Why, I have prayed God night and day to send us a +priest. She is half mad with sorrow; and who knows whether ever again in +this world--" + +He broke off, his face all distorted with pain; and Robin felt a strange +thrill of glory at the thought that he bore with him, in virtue of his +priesthood only, so much consolation. He faced for the first time that +tremendous call of which he had heard so much in Rheims--that desolate +cry of souls that longed and longed in vain for those gifts which a +priest of Christ could alone bestow.... + +"... The question is," the old man was saying more quietly, "how to get +you in to her Grace. Why, Sir Amyas opens her letters even, and reseals +them again! He thinks me a fool, and that I do not know what he does.... +Do you know aught of medicine?" he asked abruptly. + +"I know only what country folks know of herbs." + +"And their names--their Latin names, man?" pursued the other, leaning +forward. + +Robin half smiled. + +"Now you speak of it," he said, "I have learned a good many, as a +pastime, when I was a boy. I was something of a herbalist, even. But I +have forgotten--" + +"Bah! that would be enough for Sir Amyas--" + +He turned and spat venomously at the name. + +"Sir Amyas knows nothing save his own vile trade. He is a lout--no more. +He is as grim as a goose, always. And you have a town air about you," he +went on, running his eyes critically over the young man's dress. "Those +are French clothes?" + +"They were bought in France." + +The two stood silent. Robin's excitement beat in all his veins, in spite +of his weariness. He had come to bear a human message only to a +bereaved Queen; and it seemed as if his work were to be rather the +bearing of a Divine message to a lonely soul. He watched the old man's +face eagerly. It was sunk in thought.... Then Mr. Bourgoign took him +abruptly by the arm. + +"Give me your arm again," he said. "I am an old man. We must be going +back again. It seems as if God heard our prayers after all. I will see +you disposed for to-night--you and your man and the horses, and I will +send for you myself in the morning. Could you say mass, think you? if I +found you a secure place--and bring Our Lord's Body with you in the +morning?" + +He checked the young man, to hear his answer. + +"Why, yes," said Robin. "I have all things that are needed." + +"Then you shall say mass in any case ... and reserve our Lord's Body in +a pyx.... Now listen to me. If my plan falls as I hope, you must be a +physician to-morrow, and have practised your trade in Paris. You have +been in Paris?" + +"No, sir." + +"Bah!... Well, no more has Sir Amyas!... You have practised your trade +in Paris, and God has given you great skill in the matter of herbs. And, +upon hearing that I was in Chartley, you inquired for your old friend, +whose acquaintance you had made in Paris, five years ago. And I, upon +hearing you were come, secured your willingness to see my patient, if +you would but consent. Your reputation has reached me even here; you +have attended His Majesty in Paris on three occasions; you restored +Mademoiselle Élise, of the family of Guise, from the very point of +death. You are but a young man still; yet--Bah! It is arranged. You +understand? Now come with me." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +In spite of his plans and his hopes and his dreams, it was with an +amazement beyond all telling, that Mr. Robert Alban found himself, at +nine o'clock next morning, conducted by two men through the hall at +Chartley to the little parlour where he was to await Sir Amyas Paulet +and the Queen's apothecary. + + * * * * * + +Matters had been arranged last night with that promptness which alone +could make the tale possible. He had walked back with the old man in +full view of the little hamlet, to all appearances, the best of old +friends; and after providing for a room in the sick woman's house for +Robin himself, another in another house for Mr. Arnold, and stabling for +the horses in a shed where occasionally the spent horses of the couriers +were housed when Chartley stables were overflowing--after all this had +been arranged by Mr. Bourgoign in person, the two walked on to the great +gates of the park, where they took an affectionate farewell within +hearing of the sentry, the apothecary promising to see Sir Amyas that +night and to communicate with his friend in the morning. Robin had +learned previously how strict was the watch set about the Queen's +person, particularly since the news of the Babington plot had first +reached the authorities, and of the extraordinary difficulty to the +approach of any stranger to her presence. Nau and Curle, her two +secretaries, had been arrested and perhaps racked a week or ten days +before; all the Queen's papers had been taken from her, and even her +jewellery and pictures sent off to Elizabeth; and the only persons +ordinarily allowed to speak with her, besides her gaoler, were two of +her women, and Mr. Bourgoign himself. + +That morning then, before six o'clock, Robin had said mass in the sick +woman's room and given her communion, with her companion, who answered +his mass, as it was thought more prudent that the other priest should +not even be present; and, at the close of the mass he had reserved in a +little pyx, hidden beneath his clothes, a consecrated particle. Mr. +Bourgoign had said that he would see to it that the Queen should be +fasting up to ten o'clock that day. + +And now the last miracle had been accomplished. A servant had come down +late the night before, with a discreet letter from the apothecary, +saying that Sir Amyas had consented to receive and examine for himself +the travelling physician from Paris; and here now went Robin, striving +to remember the old Latin names he had learned as a boy, and to carry a +medical air with him. + + * * * * * + +The parlour in which he found himself was furnished severely and even +rather sparely, owing, perhaps, he thought, to the temporary nature of +the household. It was the custom in great houses to carry with the +family, from house to house, all luxuries such as extra hangings or +painted pictures or carpets, as well as even such things as cooking +utensils; and in the Queen's sudden removal back again from Tixall, many +matters must have been neglected. The oak wainscoting was completely +bare; and over the upper parts of the walls in many places the stones +showed through between the ill-fitting tapestries. A sheaf of pikes +stood in one corner; an oil portrait of an unknown worthy in the dress +of fifty years ago hung over one of the doors; a large round oak table, +with ink-horn and pounce-box, stood in the centre of the room with +stools beside it: there was no hearth or chimney visible; and there was +no tapestry upon the floor: a skin only lay between the windows. The +priest sat down and waited. + +He had enough to occupy his mind; for not only had he the thought of the +character he was to sustain presently under the scrutiny of a suspicious +man; but he had the prospect, as he hoped, of coming into the presence +of the most-talked-of woman in Europe, and of ministering to her as a +priest alone could do, in her sorest need. His hand went to his breast +as he considered it, and remembered What he bore ... and he felt the +tiny flat circular case press upon his heart.... + +For his imagination was all aflame at the thought of Mary. Not only had +he been kindled again and again in the old days by poor Anthony's talk, +until the woman seemed to him half-deified already; but man after man +had repeated the same tale, that she was, in truth, that which her lean +cousin of England desired to be thought--a very paragon of women, +innocent, holy, undefiled, yet of charm to drive men to their knees +before her presence. It was said that she was as one of those strange +moths which, confined behind glass, will draw their mates out of the +darkness to beat themselves to death against her prison; she was +exquisite, they said, in her pale beauty, and yet more exquisite in her +pain; she exuded a faint and intoxicating perfume of womanliness, like a +crushed herb. Yet she was to be worshipped, rather than loved--a +sacrament to be approached kneeling, an incarnate breath of heaven, the +more lovely from the vileness into which her life had been cast and the +slanders that were about her name.... More marvellous than all was that +those who knew her best and longest loved her most; her servants wept or +groaned themselves into fevers if they were excluded from her too long; +of her as of the Wisdom of old might it be said that, "They who ate her +hungered yet, and they who drank her thirsted yet."... It was to this +miracle of humanity, then, that this priest was to come.... + + * * * * * + +He sat up suddenly, once more pressing his hand to his breast, where his +Treasure lay hidden, as he heard steps crossing the paved hall outside. +Then he rose to his feet and bowed as a tall man came swiftly in, +followed by the apothecary. + + +II + +It was a lean, harsh-faced man that he saw, long-moustached and +melancholy-eyed--"grim as a goose," as the physician had said--wearing, +even in this guarded household, a half-breast and cap of steel. A long +sword jingled beside him on the stone floor and clashed with his spurred +boots. He appeared the last man in the world to be the companion of a +sorrowing Queen; and it was precisely for this reason that he had been +chosen to replace the courtly lord Shrewsbury and the gentle Sir Ralph +Sadler. (Her Grace of England said that she had had enough of nurses for +gaolers.) His voice, too, resembled the bitter clash of a key in a lock. + +"Well, sir," he said abruptly, "Mr. Bourgoign tells me you are a friend +of his." + +"I have that honour, sir." + +"You met in Paris, eh?... And you profess a knowledge of herbs beyond +the ordinary?" + +"Mr. Bourgoign is good enough to say so." + +"And you are after her Grace of Scotland, as they call her, like all the +rest of them, eh?" + +"I shall be happy to put what art I possess at her Grace of Scotland's +service." + +"Traitors say as much as that, sir." + +"In the cause of treachery, no doubt, sir." + +Sir Amyas barked a kind of laugh. + +"_Vous avez raisong_," he said with a deplorable accent. "As her Grace +would say. And you come purely by chance to Chartley, no doubt!" + +The sneer was unmistakable. Robin met it full. + +"Not for one moment, sir. I was on my way to Derby. I could have saved a +few miles if I had struck north long ago. But Chartley is interesting in +these days." + +(He saw Mr. Bourgoign's eyes gleam with satisfaction.) + +"That is honest at least, sir. And why is Chartley interesting?" + +"Because her Grace is here," answered Robin with sublime simplicity. + +Sir Amyas barked again. It seemed he liked this way of talk. For a +moment or two his eyes searched Robin--hard, narrow eyes like a dog's; +he looked him up and down. + +"Where are your drugs, sir?" + +Robin smiled. + +"A herbalist does not need to carry drugs," he said. "They grow in every +hedgerow if a man has eyes to see what God has given him." + +"That is true enough. I would we had more talk about God His Majesty in +this household, and less of Popish trinkets and fiddle-faddle.... Well, +sir; do you think you can cure her ladyship?" + +"I have no opinion on the point at all, sir. I do not know what is the +matter with her--beyond what Mr. Bourgoign has told me," he added +hastily, remembering the supposed situation. + +The soldier paid no attention. Like all slow-witted men, he was +following up an irrelevant train of thought from his own last sentence +but one. + +"Fiddle-faddle!" he said again. "I am sick of her megrims and her +vapours and her humours. Has she not blood and bones like the rest of +us? And yet she cannot take her food nor her drink, nor sleep like an +honest woman. And I do not wonder at it; for that is what she is not. +They will say she is poisoned, I dare say.... Well, sir; I suppose you +had best see her; but in my presence, remember, sir; in my presence." + +Robin's spirits sank like a stone.... Moreover, he would be instantly +detected as a knave (though that honestly seemed a lesser matter to +him), if he attempted to talk medically in Sir Amyas' presence; unless +that warrior was truly as great a clod as he seemed. He determined to +risk it. He bowed. + +"I can at least try my poor skill, sir," he said. + +Sir Amyas instantly turned, with a jerk of his head to beckon them, and +clanked out again into the hall. There was not a moment's opportunity +for the two conspirators to exchange even a word; for there, in the +hall, stood the two men who had brought Robin in, to keep guard; and as +the party passed through to the foot of the great staircase, he saw on +each landing that was in sight another sentry, and, at a door at the end +of the overhead gallery, against which hung a heavy velvet curtain, +stood the last, a stern figure to keep guard on the rooms of a Queen, +with his body-armour complete, a steel hat on his head and a pike in his +hand. + +It was to this door that Sir Amyas went, acknowledging with a lift of +the finger the salute of his men. (It was plain that this place was +under strict military discipline.) With the two, the real and the false +physician following him, he pulled aside the curtain and rapped +imperiously on the door. It was opened after a moment's delay by a +frightened-faced woman. + +"Her Grace?" demanded the officer sharply. "Is she still abed?" + +"Her Grace is risen, sir," said the woman tremulously; "she is in the +inner room." + +Sir Amyas strode straight on, pulled aside a second curtain hanging over +the further door, rapped upon that, too, and without even waiting for an +answer this time, beyond the shrill barking of dogs within, opened it +and passed in. Mr. Bourgoign followed; and Robin came last. The door +closed softly behind him. + + +III + +The room was furnished with more decency than any he had seen in this +harsh house; for, although at the time he thought that he had no eyes +for anything but one figure which it contained, he found himself +afterwards able to give a very tolerable account of its general +appearance. The walls were hung throughout with a dark-blue velvet +hanging, stamped with silver fleur-de-lys. There were tapestries on the +floor, between which gleamed the polished oak boards, perfectly kept, by +the labours (no doubt) of her Grace's two women (since such things would +be mere "fiddle-faddle" to the honest soldier); a graceful French table +ran down the centre of the room, very delicately carved, and beneath it +two baskets from which looked out the indignant heads of a couple of +little spaniels; upon it, at the nearer end, were three or four cages of +turtle-doves, melancholy-looking in this half-lit room; old, +sun-bleached curtains of the same material as that which hung on the +walls, shrouded the two windows on the right, letting but a half light +into the room: there was a further door, also curtained, diagonally +opposite that by which the party had entered; and in the centre of the +same wall a tall blue canopy, fringed with silver, rose to the ceiling. +Beneath it, on a daïs of a single step, stood a velvet chair, with +gilded arms, and worked with the royal shield in the embroidery of the +back--with a crowned lion _sejant, guardant_, for the crest above the +crown. Half a dozen more chairs were ranged about the table; and, on a +couch, with her feet swathed in draperies, with a woman standing over +her behind, as if she had just risen up from speaking in her ear, lay +the Queen of the Scots. A tall silver and ebony crucifix, with a couple +of velvet-bound, silver-clasped little books, stood on the table within +reach of her hand, and a folded handkerchief beside them. + +Mary was past her prime long ago; she was worn with sorrow and slanders +and miseries; yet she appeared to the priest's eyes, even then, like a +figure of a dream. It was partly, no doubt, the faintness of the light +that came in through the half-shrouded windows that obliterated the +lines and fallen patches that her face was beginning to bear; and she +lay, too, with her back even to such light as there was. Yet for all +that, and even if he had not known who she was, Robin could not have +taken his eyes from her face. She lay there like a fallen flower, pale +as a lily, beaten down at last by the waves and storms that had gone +over her; and she was more beautiful in her downfall and disgrace, a +thousand times, than when she had come first to Holyrood, or danced in +the Courts of France. + +Now it is not in the features one by one that beauty lies but rather in +the coincidence of them all. Her face was almost waxen now, blue +shadowed beneath the two waves of pale hair; she had a small mouth, a +delicate nose, and large, searching hazel eyes. Her head-dress was of +white, with silver pins in it; a light white shawl was clasped +cross-wise over her shoulders; and she wore a loose brocaded +dressing-gown beneath it. Her hands, clasped as if in prayer, emerged +out of deep lace-fringed sleeves, and were covered with rings. But it +was the air of almost superhuman delicacy that breathed from her most +forcibly; and, when she spoke, a ring of assured decision revealed her +quiet consciousness of royalty. It was an extraordinary mingling of +fragility and power, of which this feminine and royal room was the +proper frame. + +Sir Amyas knelt perfunctorily, as if impatient of it; and rose up again +at once without waiting for the signal. Mary lifted her fingers a little +as a sign to the other two. + +"I have brought the French doctor, madam," said the soldier abruptly. +"But he must see your Grace in my presence." + +"Then you might as well have spared him, and yourself, the pains, sir," +came the quiet, dignified voice. "I do not choose to be examined in your +presence." + +Robin lifted his eyes to her face; but although he thought he caught an +under air of intense desire towards him and That which he bore, there +was no faltering in the tone of her voice. It was, as some man said, as +"soft as running water heard by night." + +"This is absurd, madam. I am responsible for your Grace's security and +good health. But there are lengths--" + +"You have spoken the very word," said the Queen. "There are lengths to +which none of us should go, even to preserve our health." + +"I tell you, madam--" + +"There is no more to be said, sir," said the Queen, closing her eyes +again. + +"But what do I know of this fellow? How can I tell he is what he +professes to be?" barked Sir Amyas. + +"Then you should never have admitted him at all," said the Queen, +opening her eyes again. "And I will do the best that I can--" + +"But, madam, your health is my care; and Mr. Bourgoign here tells me--" + +"The subject does not interest me," murmured the Queen, apparently half +asleep. + +"But I will retire to the corner and turn my back, if that is +necessary," growled the soldier. + +There was no answer. She lay with closed eyes, and her woman began again +to fan her gently. + + * * * * * + +Robin began to understand the situation a little better. It was plain +that Sir Amyas was a great deal more anxious for the Queen's health than +he pretended to be, or he would never have tolerated such objections. +The Queen, too, must know of this, or she would not have ventured, with +so much at stake, to treat him with such maddening rebuffs. There had +been rumours (verified later) that Elizabeth had actually caused it to +be suggested to Sir Amyas that he should poison his prisoner decently +and privately, and thereby save a great deal of trouble and scandal; and +that Sir Amyas had refused with indignation. Perhaps, if all this were +true, thought Robin, the officer was especially careful on this very +account that the Queen's health should be above suspicion. He remembered +that Sir Amyas had referred just now to a suspicion of poison.... He +determined on the bold line. + +"Her Grace has spoken, sir," he said modestly. "And I think I should +have a word to say. It is plain to me, by looking at her Grace, that her +health is very far from what it should be--" (he paused +significantly)--"I should have to make a thorough examination, if I +prescribed at all; and, even should her Grace consent to this being done +publicly, for my part I would not consent. I should be happy to have her +women here, but--" + +Sir Amyas turned on him wrathfully. + +"Why, sir, you said downstairs--" + +"I had not then seen her Grace. But there is no more to be said--" He +kneeled again as if to take his leave, stood up, and began to retire to +the door. Mr. Bourgoign stood helpless. + +Then Sir Amyas yielded. + +"You shall have fifteen minutes, sir. No more," he cried harshly. "And I +shall remain in the next room." + +He made a perfunctory salute and strode out. + +The Queen opened her eyes, waited for one tense instant till the door +closed; then she slipped swiftly off the couch. + +"The door!" she whispered. + +The woman was across the room in an instant, on tip-toe, and drew the +single slender bolt. The Queen made a sharp gesture; the woman fled back +again on one side, and out through the further door, and the old man +hobbled after her. It was as if every detail had been rehearsed. The +door closed noiselessly. + +Then the Queen rose up, as Robin, understanding, began to fumble with +his breast. And, as he drew out the pyx, and placed it on the +handkerchief (in reality a corporal), apparently so carelessly laid by +the crucifix, Mary sank down in adoration of her Lord. + +"Now, _mon père_," she whispered, still kneeling, but lifting her +star-bright eyes. And the priest went across to the couch where the +Queen had lain, and sat down on it. + +"_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_--" began Mary. + + +IV + +When the confession was finished, Robin went across, at the Queen's +order, and tapped with his finger-nail upon the door, while she herself +remained on her knees. The door opened instantly, and the two came in, +the woman first, bearing two lighted tapers. She set these down one on +either side of the crucifix, and herself knelt with the old physician. + +... Then Robin gave holy communion to the Queen of the Scots.... + + +V + +She was back again on her couch now, once more as drowsy-looking as +ever. The candlesticks were gone again; the handkerchief still in its +place, and the woman back again behind the couch. The two men kneeled +close beside her, near enough to hear every whisper. + +"Listen, gentlemen," she said softly, "I cannot tell you what you have +done for my soul to-day--both of you, since I could never have had the +priest without my friend.... I cannot reward you, but our Lord will do +so abundantly.... Listen, I know that I am going to my death, and I +thank God that I have made my peace with Him. I do not know if they will +allow me to see a priest again. But I wish to say this to both of +you--as I said just now in my confession, to you, _mon père_--that I am +wholly and utterly guiltless of the plot laid to my charge; that I had +neither part nor wish nor consent in it. I desired only to escape from +my captivity.... I would have made war, if I could, yes, but as for +accomplishing or assisting in her Grace's death, the thought was never +near me. Those whom I thought my friends have entrapped me, and have +given colour to the tale. I pray our Saviour to forgive them as I do; +and with that Saviour now in my breast I tell you--and you may tell all +the world if you will--that I am guiltless of what they impute to me. I +shall die for my Religion, and nothing but that. And I thank you again, +_mon père, et vous, mon ami, que vous avez_...." + +Her voice died away in inaudible French, and her eyes closed. + + * * * * * + +Robin's eyes were raining tears, but he leaned forward and kissed her +hand as it lay on the edge of the couch. He felt himself touched on the +shoulder, and he stood up. The old man's eyes, too, were brimming with +tears. + +"I must let Sir Amyas in," he whispered. "You must be ready." + +"What shall I say?" + +"Say that you will prescribe privately, to me: and that her Grace's +health is indeed delicate, but not gravely impaired.... You understand?" + +Robin nodded, passing his sleeve over his eyes. The woman touched the +Queen's shoulder to rouse her, and Mr. Bourgoign opened the door. + + +VI + +"And now, sir," said Mr. Bourgoign, as the two passed out from the house +half an hour later, "I have one more word to say to you. Listen +carefully, if you please, for there is not much time." + +He glanced behind him, but the tall figure was gone from the door; there +remained only the two pikemen that kept ward over the great house on the +steps. + +"Come this way," said the physician, and led the priest through into the +little walled garden on the south. "He will think we are finishing our +consultation." + + * * * * * + +"I cannot tell you," he said presently, "all that I think of your +courage and your wit. You made a bold stroke when you told him you would +begone again, unless you could see her Grace alone, and again when you +said you had come to Chartley because she was here. And you may go +again now, knowing you have comforted a woman in her greatest need. They +sent her chaplain from her when she left here for Tixall in July, and +she has not had him again yet. She is watched at every point. They have +taken all her papers from her, and have seduced M. Nau, I fear. Did you +hear anything of him in town?" + +"No," said the priest. "I know nothing of him." + +"He is a Frenchman, and hath been with her Grace more than ten years. He +hath written her letters for her, and been privy to all her counsels. +And I fear he hath been seduced from her at last. It was said that Mr. +Walsingham was to take him into his house.... Well, but we have not time +for this. What I have to ask you is whether you could come again to us?" + +He peered at the priest almost timorously. Robin was startled. + +"Come again?" he said. "Why--" + +"You see you have already won to her presence, and Sir Amyas is +committed to it that you are a safe man. I shall tell her Grace, too, +that she must eat and drink well, and get better, if she would see you +again, for that will establish you in Sir Amyas' eyes." + +"But will she not have a priest?" + +"I know nothing, Mr. Alban. They even shut me up here when they took her +to Tixall; and even now none but myself and her two women have access to +her. I do not know even if her Grace will be left here. There has been +talk among the men of going to Fotheringay. I know nothing, from day to +day. It is a ... a _cauchemar_. But they will certainly do what they can +to shake her. It grows more rigorous every day. And I thought, that if +you would tell me whether a message could reach you, and if her chaplain +is not allowed to see her again, you might be able to come again. I +would tell Sir Amyas how much good you had done to her last time, with +your herbs; and, it might be, you could see her again in a month or two +perhaps--or later." + +Robin was silent. + +The greatness of the affair terrified him; yet its melancholy drew him. +He had seen her on whom all England bent its thoughts at this time, who +was a crowned Queen, with broad lands and wealth, who called Elizabeth +"sister"; yet who was more of a prisoner than any in the Fleet or +Westminster Gatehouse, since those at least could have their friends to +come to them. Her hidden fires, too, had warmed him--that passion for +God that had burst from her when her gaoler left her, and she had flung +herself on her knees before her hidden Saviour. It may be he had doubted +her before (he did not know); but there was no more doubt in him after +her protestation of her innocence. He began to see now that she stood +for more than her kingdom or her son or the plots attributed to her, +that she was more than a mere great woman, for whose sake men could both +live and die; he began to see in her that which poor Anthony had seen--a +champion for the Faith of them all, an incarnate suffering symbol, in +flesh and blood, of that Religion for which he, too, was in peril--that +Religion, which, in spite of all clamour to the contrary, was the real +storm-centre of England's life. + +He turned then to the old man with a suddenly flushed face. + +"A message will always reach me at Mistress Manners' house, at Booth's +Edge, near Hathersage, in Derbyshire. And I will come from there, or +from the world's end, to serve her Grace." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +"First give me your blessing, Mr. Alban," said Marjorie, kneeling down +before him in the hall in front of them all. She was as pale as a ghost, +but her eyes shone like stars. + + * * * * * + +It was a couple of months after his leaving Chartley before he came at +last to Booth's Edge. First he had had to bestow Mr. Arnold in +Lancashire, for suspicion was abroad; and it was a letter from Marjorie +herself, reaching him in Derby, at Mr. Biddell's house, that had told +him of it, and bidden him go on with his friend. The town had never been +the same since Topcliffe's visit; and now that Babington House was no +longer in safe Catholic hands, a great protection was gone. He had +better go on, she said, as if he were what he professed to be--a +gentleman travelling with his servant. A rumour had come to her ears +that the talk in the town was of the expected arrival of a new priest to +take Mr. Garlick's place for the present, and every stranger was +scrutinised. So he had taken her advice; he had left Derby again +immediately, and had slowly travelled north; then, coming round about +from the north, after leaving his friend, saying mass here and there +where he could, crossing into Yorkshire even as far west as Wakefield, +he had come at last, through this wet November day, along the Derwent +valley and up to Booth's Edge, where he arrived after sunset, to find +the hall filled with folks to greet him. + +He was smiling himself, though his eyes were full of tears, by the time +that he had done giving his blessings. Mr. John FitzHerbert was come up +from Padley, where he lived now for short times together, greyer than +ever, but with the same resolute face. Mistress Alice Babington was +there, still serene looking, but with a new sorrow in her eyes; and, +clinging to her, a thin, pale girl all in black, who only two months +before had lost both daughter and husband; for the child had died +scarcely a week or two before her father, Anthony Babington, had died +miserably on the gallows near St. Giles' Fields, where he had so often +met his friends after dark. It was a ghastly tale, told in fragments to +Robin here and there during his journeyings by men in taverns, before +whom he must keep a brave face. And a few farmers were there, old Mr. +Merton among them, come in to welcome the son of the Squire of Matstead, +returned under a feigned name, unknown even to his father, and there, +too, was honest Dick Sampson, come up from Dethick to see his old +master. So here, in the hall he knew so well, himself splashed with red +marl from ankle to shoulder, still cloaked and spurred, one by one these +knelt before him, beginning with Marjorie herself, and ending with the +youngest farm-boy, who breathed heavily as he knelt down and got up +round-eyed and staring. + +"And his Reverence will hear confessions," proclaimed Marjorie to the +multitude, "at eight o'clock to-night; and he will say mass and give +holy communion at six o'clock to-morrow morning." + + +II + +He had to hear that night, after supper, and before he went to keep his +engagement in the chapel-room, the entire news of the county; and, in +his turn, to tell his own adventures. The company sat together before +the great hall-fire, to take the dessert, since there would have been no +room in the parlour for all who wished to hear. (He heard the tale of +Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert, traitor, apostate and sworn man of her Grace, +later, when he had come down again from the chapel-room, and the +servants had gone.) But now it was of less tragic matters, and more +triumphant, that they talked: he told of his adventures since he had +landed in August; of his riding in Lancashire and Yorkshire, and of the +fervour that he met with there (in one place, he said, he had reconciled +the old minister of the parish, that had been made priest under Mary +thirty years ago, and now lay dying); but he said nothing at that time +of what he had seen of her Grace of Scotland, and Chartley: and the +rest, on the other hand, talked of what had passed in Derby, of all that +Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Garlick had done; of the arrest and banishment of the +latter, and his immediate return; of the hanging of Mr. Francis Ingolby, +in York, which had made a great stir in the north that summer, since he +was the son of Sir Francis, of Ripley Castle; as well as of the deaths +of many others--Mr. Finglow in August; Mr. Sandys, in the same month, in +Gloucester; and of Mr. Lowe, Mr. Adams and Mr. Dibdale, all together at +Tyburn, the news of which had but just come to Derbyshire; and of +Mistress Clitheroe, that had been pressed to death in York, for the very +crime which Mistress Marjorie Manners was perpetrating at this moment, +namely, the assistance and harbourage of priests; or, rather, for +refusing to plead when she had been arrested for that crime, lest she +should bring them into trouble. + +And then at last they began to speak of Mary in Fotheringay and at that +a maid came in to say that it was eight o'clock, and would his Reverence +come up, as a few had to travel home that night and to come again next +day.... + + * * * * * + +It was after nine o'clock before he came downstairs again, to find the +gentlefolk alone in the little parlour that opened from the hall. It +gave him a strange thrill of pleasure to see them there in the +firelight; the four of them only--Mr. John in the midst, with the three +ladies; and an empty chair waiting for the priest. He would hear their +confessions presently when the servants were gone to bed. A great mug of +warm ale stood by his place, to comfort him after his long ride and his +spiritual labours. + +Mr. John told him first the news of his own son, as was his duty to do; +and he told it without bitterness, in a level voice, leaning his cheek +on his hand. + +It appeared that Mr. Thomas still passed for a Catholic among the +simpler folk; but with none else. All the great houses round about had +the truth as an open secret; and their doors were closed to him; neither +had any priest been near him, since the day when Mr. Simpson met him +alone on the moors and spoke to him of his soul. Even then Mr. Thomas +had blustered and declared that there was no truth in the tale; and had +so ridden away at last, saying that such pestering was enough to make a +man lose his religion altogether. + +"As for me," said Mr. John, "he has not been near me, nor I near him. He +lives at Norbury for the most part. My brother is attempting to set +aside the disposition he had made in his favour; but they say that it +will be made to stand; and that my son will get it all yet. But he has +not troubled us at Padley; nor will he, I think." + +"He is at Norbury, you say, sir?" + +"Yes; but he goes here and there continually. He has been to London to +lay informations, I have no doubt, for I know that he hath been seen +there in Topcliffe's company.... It seems that we are to be in the thick +of the conflict. We have had above a dozen priests in this county alone +arraigned for treason, and the most of them executed." + +His voice had gone lower, and trembled once or twice as he talked. It +was plain that he could not bear to speak much more against the son that +had turned against him and his Faith, for the sake of his own liberty +and the estates he had hoped to have. Robin made haste to turn the talk. + +"And my father, sir?" + +Mr. John looked at him tenderly. + +"You must ask Mistress Marjorie of him," he said. "I have not seen him +these three years." + +Robin turned to the girl. + +"I have had no more news of him since what I wrote to you," she said +quietly. "After I had spoken with him, and he had given me the warning, +he held himself aloof." + +"Hath he been at any of the trials at Derby?" + +She bowed her head. + +"He was at the trial of Mr. Garlick," she said; "last year; and was one +of those who spoke for his banishment." + + * * * * * + +And then, on a sudden, Mistress Alice moved in her corner, where she sat +with the widow of her brother. + +"And what of her Grace?" she said. "Is it true what Dick told us before +supper, that Parliament hath sentenced her?" + +Robin shook his head. + +"I hear so much gossip," he said, "in the taverns, that I believe +nothing. I had not heard that. Tell me what it was." + +He was in a torment of mind as to what he should say of his own +adventure at Chartley. On the one side it was plain that no rumour of +the tale must get abroad or he would never be able to come to her again; +on the other side, no word had come from Mr. Bourgoign, though two +months had passed. He knew, indeed, what all the world knew by now, that +a trial had been held by over forty lords in Fotheringay Castle, whither +the Queen had been moved at the end of September, and that reports had +been sent of it to London. But for the rest he knew no more than the +others. Tales ran about the country on every side. One man would say +that he had it from London direct that Parliament had sentenced her; +another that the Queen of England had given her consent too; a third, +that Parliament had not dared to touch the matter at all; a fourth, that +Elizabeth had pardoned her. But, for Robin, his hesitation largely lay +in his knowledge that it was on the Babington plot that all would turn, +and that this would have been the chief charge against her; and here, +but a yard away from him, in the gloom of the chimney-breast sat +Anthony's wife and sister. How could he say that this was so, and yet +that he believed her wholly innocent of a crime which he detested? He +had dreaded this talk the instant that he had seen them in the hall and +heard their names. + +But Mistress Alice would not be put off. She repeated what she had said. +Dick had come up from Dethick only that afternoon, and was now gone +again, so that he could not be questioned; but he had told his mistress +plainly that the story in Derby, brought in by couriers, was that +Parliament had consented and had passed sentence on her Grace; that her +Grace herself had received the news only the day before; but that the +warrant was not signed. + +"And on what charge?" asked Robin desperately. Mistress Alice's voice +rang out proudly; but he saw her press the girl closer as she spoke. + +"That she was privy to the plot which my ... my brother had a hand in." + +Then Robin drew a breath and decided. + +"It may be so," he said. "But I do not believe she was privy to it. I +spoke with her Grace at Chartley--" + +There was a swift movement in the half circle. + +"I spoke with her Grace at Chartley," he said. "I went to her under +guise of a herbalist: I heard her confession and gave her communion; and +she declared publicly, before two witnesses, after she had had +communion, that she was guiltless." + + * * * * * + +Robin was no story-teller; but for half an hour he was forced to become +one, until his hearers were satisfied. Even here, in the distant hills, +Mary's name was a key to a treasure-house of mysteries. It was through +this country, too, that she had passed again and again. It was at old +Chatsworth--the square house with the huge Italian and Dutch gardens, +that a Cavendish had bought thirty years ago from the Agards--that she +had passed part of her captivity; it was in Derby that she had halted +for a night last year; it was near Burton that she had slept two months +ago on her road to Fotheringay; and to hear now of her, from one who had +spoken to her that very autumn, was as a revelation. So Robin told it as +well as he could. + +"And it may be," he said, "that I shall have to go again. Mr. Bourgoign +said that he would send to me if he could. But I have heard no word from +him." (He glanced round the watching faces.) "And I need not say that I +shall hear no word at all, if the tale I have told you leak out." + +"Perhaps she hath a chaplain again," said Mr. John, after pause. + +"I do not think so," said the priest. "If she had none at Chartley, she +would all the less have one at Fotheringay." + +"And it may be you will be sent for again?" asked Marjorie's voice +gently from the darkness. + +"It may be so," said the priest. + +"The letter is to be sent here?" she asked. + +"I told Mr. Bourgoign so." + +"Does any other know you are here?" + +"No, Mistress Marjorie." + +There was a pause. + +"It is growing late," said Mr. John. "Will your Reverence go upstairs +with me; and these ladies will come after, I think." + + +III + +If it had been a great day for Robin that he should come back to his own +country after six years, and be received in this house of strange +memories; that he should sit upstairs as a priest, and hear confessions +in that very parlour where nearly seven years ago he had sat with +Marjorie as her accepted lover--if all this had been charged, to him, +with emotions and memories which, however he had outgrown them, yet +echoed somewhere wonderfully in his mind; it was no less a kind of +climax and consummation to the girl whose house this was, and who had +waited so long to receive back a lover who came now in so different a +guise. + +But it must be made plain that to neither of them was there a thought or +a memory that ought not to be. To those who hold that men are no better, +except for their brains, than other animals; that they are but, after +all, bundles of sense from which all love and aspiration take their +rise--to such the thing will seem simply false. They will say that it +was not so; that all that strange yearning that Marjorie had to see the +man back again; that the excitement that beat in Robin's heart as he had +ridden up the well-remembered slope, all in the dark, and had seen the +lighted windows at the top; that these were but the old loves in the +disguise of piety. But to those who understand what priesthood is, for +him that receives it, and for the soul that reverences it, the thing is +a truism. For the priest was one who loved Christ more than all the +world; and the woman one who loved priesthood more than herself. + +Yet her memories of him that remained in her had, of course, a place in +her heart; and, though she knelt before him presently in the little +parlour where once he had kneeled before her, as simply as a child +before her father, and told her sins, and received Christ's pardon, and +went away to make room for the next--though all this was without a +reproach in her eyes; yet, as she went she knew that she must face a +fresh struggle, and a temptation that would not have been one-tenth so +fierce if it had been some other priest that was in peril. That peril +was Fotheringay, where (as she knew well enough) every strange face +would be scrutinized as perhaps nowhere else in all England; and that +temptation lay in the knowledge that when that letter should come (as +she knew in her heart it would come), it would be through her hands that +it would pass--if it passed indeed. + + * * * * * + +While the others went to the priest one by one, Marjorie kneeled in her +room, fighting with a devil that was not yet come to her, as is the way +with sensitive consciences. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +The suspense at Fotheringay grew deeper with every day that passed. + +Christmas was come and gone, and no sign was made from London, so far, +at least, as the little town was concerned. There came almost daily from +the castle new tales of slights put upon the Queen, and now and again of +new favours granted to her. Her chaplain, withdrawn for a while, had +been admitted to her again a week before Christmas; a crowd had +collected to see the Popish priest ride in, and had remarked on his +timorous air; and about the same time a courier had been watched as he +rode off to London, bearing, it was rumoured, one last appeal from one +Queen to the other. On the other hand, it was known that Mary no longer +had her daïs in her chamber, and that the billiard-table, which she +never used, had been taken away again. + +But all this had happened before Christmas, and now a month had gone by, +and although this or that tale of discourtesy from gaoler to prisoner +leaked out through the servants; though it was known that the crucifix +which Mary had hung up in the place where her daïs had stood remained +undisturbed--though this argument or the other could be advanced in turn +by men sitting over their wine in the taverns, that the Queen's cause +was rising or falling, nothing was truly known the one way or the other. +It had been proclaimed, by trumpet, in every town in England, that +sentence of death was passed; yet this was two or three months ago, and +the knowledge that the warrant had not yet been signed seemed an +argument to some that now it never would be. + + * * * * * + +A group was waiting (as a group usually did wait) at the village +entrance to the new bridge lately built by her Grace of England, towards +sunset on an evening late in January. This situation commanded, so far +as was possible, every point of interest. It was the beginning of the +London road, up which so many couriers had passed; it was over this +bridge that her Grace of Scotland herself had come from her +cross-country journey from Chartley. On the left, looking northwards, +rose the great old collegiate church, with its graceful lantern tower, +above the low thatched stone houses of the village; on the right, +adjoining the village beyond the big inn, rose the huge keep of the +castle and its walls, within its double moats, ranged in form of a +fetterlock of which the river itself was its straight side. Beyond, the +low rolling hills and meadows met the chilly January sky. + +For four months now the village had been transformed into a kind of +camp. The castle itself was crammed to bursting. The row of little +windows beside the hall on the first floor, visible only from the road +that led past the inn parallel to the river, marked the lodgings of the +Queen, where, with the hall also for her use, she lived continually; the +rest of the castle was full of men-at-arms, officers, great lords who +came and went--these, with the castellan's rooms and those of his +people, Sir Amyas' lodgings, and the space occupied by Mary's own +servants--all these filled the castle entirely. For the rest--the +garrison not on duty, the grooms, the couriers, the lesser servants, the +suites of the visitors, and even many of the visitors themselves--these +filled the two inns of the little town completely, and overflowed +everywhere into the houses of the people. It was a vision of a garrison +in war-time that the countryfolk gaped at continually; the street +sparkled all day with liveries and arms; archers went to and fro; the +trample of horses, the sharp military orders at the changings of guard +outside and within the towered gateway that commanded the entrance over +the moats, the songs of men over their wine in the tavern-parlours-- +these things had become matters of common observation, and fired many a +young farm-man with a zeal for arms. + +The Queen herself was a mystery. + +They had seen, for a moment, as she drove in after dark last September, +a coach (in which, it was said, she had sat with her back to the horses) +surrounded by guards; patient watchers had, perhaps, half a dozen times +altogether caught a glimpse of a woman's face, at a window that was +supposed to be hers, look out for an instant over the wall that skirted +the moat. But that was all. They heard the trumpets' cry within the +castle; and even learned to distinguish something of what each +signified--the call for the changing of guards, the announcement of +dinner and supper; the warning to the gatekeepers that persons were to +pass out. But of her, round whom all this centred, of the prison-queen +of this hive of angry bees, they knew less than of her Grace of England +whom once they had seen ride in through these very gates. Tales, of +course, were abundant--gossip from servant to servant, filtering down at +last, distorted or attenuated, to the rustics who watched and exclaimed; +but there was not a soldier who kept her, not a cook who served her, of +whom they did not know more than of herself. There were even parties in +the village; or, rather, there was a silent group who did not join in +the universal disapproval, but these were queer and fantastic persons, +who still held to the old ways and would not go to church with the rest. + +A little more material had been supplied for conversation by the events +of to-day. It had positively been reported, by a fellow who had been to +see about a room for himself in the village, that he had been turned out +of the castle to make space for her Grace's chaplain. This was puzzling. +Had not the Popish priest already been in the castle five or six weeks? +Then why should he now require another chamber? + +The argument waxed hot by the bridge. One said that it was another +priest that was come in disguise; another, that once a Popish priest got +a foothold in a place he was never content till he got the whole for +himself; a third, that the fellow had simply lied, and that he was +turned out because he had been caught by Sir Amyas making love to one of +the maids. Each was positive of his own thesis, and argued for it by the +process of re-assertion that it was so, and that his opponents were +fools. They spat into the water; one got out a tobacco pipe that a +soldier had given him and made a great show of filling it, though he had +no flint to light it with; another proclaimed that for two figs he would +go and inquire at the gateway itself.... + +To this barren war of the schools came a fact at last, and its bearer +was a gorgeous figure of a man-at-arms (who, later, got into trouble by +talking too much), who came swaggering down the road from the New Inn, +blowing smoke into the air, with his hat on one side, and his +breast-piece loose; and declared in that strange clipped London-English +of his that he had been on guard at the door of Sir Amyas' room, and had +heard him tell Melville the steward and De Préau the priest that they +must no longer have access to her Grace, but must move their lodgings +elsewhere within the castle. + +This, then, had to be discussed once more from the beginning. One said +that this was an evident sign that the end was to come and that Madam +was to die; another that, on the contrary, it was plain that this was +not so, but that rather she was to be compelled by greater strictness to +acknowledge her guilt; a third, that it was none of these things, but +rather that Madam was turning Protestant at last in order to save her +life, and had devised this manner of ridding herself of the priest. And +the soldier damned them all round as block-fools, who knew nothing and +talked all the more for it. + + * * * * * + +The dark was beginning to fall before the group broke up, and none of +them took much notice of a young man on a fresh horse, who rode quietly +out of the yard of the New Inn as the saunterers came up. One of them, +three minutes later, however, heard suddenly from across the bridge the +sound of a horse breaking into a gallop and presently dying away +westwards beyond Perry Lane. + + +II + +Within the castle that evening nothing happened that was of any note to +its more careless occupants. All was as usual. + +The guard at the towers that controlled the drawbridge across the outer +moat was changed at four o'clock; six men came out, under an officer, +from the inner court; the words were exchanged, and the six that went +off duty marched into the armoury to lay by their pikes and presently +dispersed, four to their rooms in the east side of the quadrangle, two +to their quarters in the village. From the kitchen came the clash of +dishes. Sir Amyas came out from the direction of the keep, where he had +been conferring with Mr. FitzWilliam, the castellan, and passed across +to his lodging on the south. A butcher hurried in, under escort of a +couple of men from the gate, with a covered basket and disappeared into +the kitchen entry. All these things were observed idly by the dozen +guards who stood two at each of the five doors that gave upon the +courtyard. Presently, too, hardly ten minutes after the guard was +changed, three figures came out at the staircase foot where Sir Amyas +had just gone in, and stood there apparently talking in low voices. Then +one of them, Mr. Melville, the Queen's steward, came across the court +with Mr. Bourgoign towards the outer entrance, passed under it, and +presently Mr. Bourgoign came back and wheeled sharply in to the right by +the entry that led up to the Queen's lodging. Meanwhile the third +figure, whom one of the men had thought to be M. de Préau, had gone back +again towards Mr. Melville's rooms. + +That was all that was to be seen, until half an hour later, a few +minutes before the drawbridge was raised for the night, the steward came +back, crossed the court once more and vanished into the entry opposite. + +It was about this time that the young man had ridden out from the New +Inn. + +Then the sun went down; the flambeaux were lighted beneath the two great +entrances--in the towered archway across the moat, and the smaller +vaulted archway within, as well as one more flambeau stuck into the iron +ring by each of the four more court-doors, and lights began to burn in +the windows round about. The man at Sir Amyas' staircase looked across +the court and idly wondered what was passing in the rooms opposite on +the first floor where the Queen was lodged. He had heard that the priest +had been forced to change his room, and was to sleep in Mr. Melville's +for the present; so her Grace would have to get on without him as well +as she could. There would be no Popish mass to-morrow, then, in the +oratory that he had heard was made upstairs.... He marvelled at the +superstition that made this a burden.... + +At a quarter before six a trumpet blew, and presently the tall windows +of the hall across the court from him began to kindle. That was for her +Grace's supper to be served. At five minutes to six another trumpet +sounded, and M. Landet, the Queen's butler, hurried out with his white +rod to take his place for the entrance of the dishes. Finally, through +the ground-floor window at the foot of the Queen's stair, the man caught +a glimpse of moving figures passing towards the hall. That would be her +Grace going in state to her supper with her women; but, for the first +time, without either priest to say grace or steward to escort her. He +saw, too, the couple of guards under the inner archway come to the +salute as the little procession came for an instant within their view; +and Mr. Newrins, the butler of the castle, stop suddenly and pull off +his cap as he was hurrying in to be in time for the supper of the +gentlemen that was served in the keep half an hour after the Queen's. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, ten miles away, along the Uppingham and Leicester track, rode +a young man through the dark. + + +III + +Sunday, too, passed as usual. + +At half-past eight the bells of the church pealed out for the morning +service, and the village street was thronged with worshippers and a few +soldiers. At nine o'clock they ceased, and the street was empty. At +eleven o'clock the trumpets sounded to announce change of guard, and to +tell the kitchen folk that dishing-time was come. Half an hour later +once more the little procession glinted a moment through the +ground-floor window of the Queen's stair as her Grace went to dinner. +(She was not very well, the cooks had reported, and had eaten but little +last night.) At twelve o'clock she came out again and went upstairs; and +at the same time, in Leicester, a young man, splashed from head to foot, +slipped off a draggled and exhausted horse and went into an inn, +ordering a fresh horse to be ready for him at three o'clock. + +And so once more the sun went down, and the little rituals were +performed, and the guards were changed, and M. Landet, for the last time +in his life (though he did not know it), came out from the kitchen with +his white rod to bear it before the dishes of a Queen; and Sir Amyas +walked in from the orchard and was saluted, and Mr. FitzWilliam went his +rounds, and the drawbridge was raised. And, at the time that the +drawbridge was raised, a young man on a horse was wondering when he +should see the lights of Burton.... + + +IV + +The first that Mistress Manners knew of his coming in the early hours of +Monday morning, was when she was awakened by Janet in the pitch darkness +shaking her shoulder. + +"It is a young man," she said, "on foot. His horse fell five miles off. +He is come with a letter from Derby." + +Sleep fell from Marjorie like a cloak. This kind of thing had happened +to her before. Now and then such a letter would come from a priest who +lacked money or desired a guide or information. She sprang out of bed +and began to put on her outer dress and her hooded cloak, as the night +was cold. + +"Bring him into the hall," she said. "Get beer and some food, and blow +the fire up." + +Janet vanished. + +When the mistress came down five minutes later, all had been done as she +had ordered. The turf and wood fire leaped in the chimney; a young man, +still with his hat on his head and drawn down a little over his face, +was sitting over the hearth, steaming like a kettle, eating voraciously. +Janet was waiting discreetly by the doors. Marjorie nodded to her, and +she went out; she had learned that her mistress's secrets were not +always her own as well. + +"I am Mistress Manners," she said. "You have a letter for me?" + +The young man stood up. + +"I know you well enough, mistress," he said. "I am John Merton's son." + +Marjorie's heart leaped with relief. In spite of her determination that +this must be a letter from a priest, there had still thrust itself +before her mind the possibility that it might be that other letter whose +coming she had feared. She had told herself fiercely as she came +downstairs just now, that it could not be. No news was come from +Fotheringay all the winter; it was common knowledge that her Grace had a +priest of her own. And now that this was John Merton's son-- + +She smiled. + +"Give me the letter," she said. "I should have known you, too, if it +were not for the dark." + +"Well, mistress," he said, "the letter was to be delivered to you, Mr. +Melville said; but--" + +"Who?" + +"Mr. Melville, mistress: her Grace's steward at Fotheringay." + + * * * * * + +He talked on a moment or two, beginning to say that Mr. Melville himself +had come out to the inn, that he, as Melville's own servant, had been +lodging there, and had been bidden to hold himself in readiness, since +he knew Derbyshire.... But she was not listening. She only knew that +that had fallen which she feared. + +"Give me the letter," she said again. + +He sat down, excusing himself, and fumbled with his boot; and by the +time that he held it out to her, she was in the thick of the conflict. +She knew well enough what it meant--that there was no peril in all +England like that to which this letter called her friend, there, waiting +for him in Fotheringay where every strange face was suspected, where a +Popish priest was as a sheep in a den of wolves, where there would be no +mercy at all if he were discovered; and where, if he were to be of use +at all, he must adventure himself in the very spot where he would be +most suspected, on a task that would be thought the last word in treason +and disobedience. And, worst of all, this priest had lodged in the +tavern where the conspirators had lodged; he had talked with them the +night before their flight, and now, here he was, striving to get access +to her for whom all had been designed. Was there a soul in England that +could doubt his complicity?... And it was to her own house here in +Derbyshire that he had come for shelter; it was here that he had said +mass yesterday; and it must be from this house that he must ride, on one +of her horses; and it must be her hand that gave him the summons. Last +of all, it was she, Marjorie Manners, that had sent him to this life, +six years ago. + +Then, as she took the letter, the shrewd woman in her spoke. It was +irresistible, and she seemed to listen to voice that was not hers. + +"Does any here know that you are come?" + +"No, mistress." + +"If I bade you, and said that I had reasons for it, you would ride away +again alone, without a word to any?" + +"Why, yes, mistress!" + +(Oh! the plan was irresistible and complete. She would send this +messenger away again on one of her own horses as far as Derby; he could +leave the horse there, and she would send a man for it to-morrow. He +would go back to Fotheringay and would wait, he and those that had sent +him. And the priest they expected would not come. He, too, himself, had +ceased to expect any word from Mr. Bourgoign; he had said a month ago +that surely none would come now. He had been away from Booth's Edge, in +fact, for nearly a month, and had scarcely even asked on his return last +Saturday to Padley, whether any message had come. Why, it was +complete--complete and irresistible! She would burn the letter here in +this hall-fire when the man was gone again; and say to Janet that the +letter had been from a travelling priest that was in trouble, and that +she had sent the answer. And Robin would presently cease to look for +news, and the end would come, and there would be no more trouble.) + +"Do you know what is in the letter?" she whispered sharply. ("Sit down +again and go on eating.") + +He obeyed her. + +"Yes, mistress," he said. "The priest was taken from her on Saturday. +Mr. Bourgoign had arranged all in readiness for that." + +"You said Mr. Melville." + +"Mr. Melville is a Protestant, mistress; but he is very well devoted to +her Grace, and has done as Mr. Bourgoign wished." + +"Why must her Grace have a priest at once? Surely for a few days--" + +He glanced up at her, and she, conscious of her own falseness, thought +he looked astonished. + +"I mean that they will surely give her her priest back, again presently; +and"--(her voice faltered)--"and Mr. Alban is spent with his +travelling." + +"They mean to kill her, mistress. There is no doubt of it amongst those +of us that are Catholics. And it is that she may have a priest before +she dies, that--" + +He paused. + +"Yes?" she said. + +"Her Grace had a fit of crying, it is said, when her priest was taken +from her. Mr. Melville was crying himself, even though--" + +He stopped, himself plainly affected. + + * * * * * + +Then, in a great surge, her own heart rose up, and she understood what +she was doing. As in a vision, she saw her own mother crying out for the +priest that never came; and she understood that horror of darkness that +falls on one who, knowing what the priest can do, knowing the infinite +consolations which Christ gives, is deprived, when physical death +approaches, of that tremendous strength and comfort. Indeed, she +recognised to the full that when a priest cannot be had, God will save +and forgive without him; yet what would be the heartlessness, to say +nothing of the guilt, of one that would keep him away? For what, except +that this strength and comfort might be at the service of Christ's +flock, had her own life been spent? It was expressly for this that she +had lived on in England when peace and the cloister might be hers +elsewhere; and now that her own life was touched, should she fail?... +The blindness passed like a dream, and her soul rose up again on a wave +of pain and exaltation.... + +"Wait," she said. "I will go and awaken him, and bid him come down." + + +V + +An hour later, as the first streaks of dawn slit the sky to the +eastwards over the moors, she stood with Janet and Mistress Alice and +Robin by the hall fire. + +She had said not a word to any of the struggle she had passed through. +She had gone upstairs resolutely and knocked on his door till he had +answered, and then whispered, "The letter is come.... I will have food +ready"; slipping the letter beneath the door. + +Then she had sent Janet to awaken a couple of men that slept over the +stables; and bid them saddle two horses at once; and herself had gone to +the buttery to make ready a meal. Then Mistress Alice had awakened and +come downstairs, and the three women had waited on the priest, as, in +boots and cloak, he had taken some food. + +Then, as the sound of the horses' feet coming round from the stables at +the back had reached them, she had determined to tell Robin before he +went of how she had played the coward. + +She went out with him to the entry between the hall and the buttery, +holding the others back with a glance. + +"I near destroyed the letter," she said simply, with downcast eyes, "and +sent the man away again. I was afraid of what might fall at +Fotheringay.... May Christ protect you!" + +She said no more than that, but turned and called the others before he +could speak. + +As he gathered up the reins a moment later, before mounting, the three +women kneeled down in the lighted entry and the two farm-men by the +horses' heads, and the priest gave them his blessing. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +It was not until after dawn on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of January, +as the bells were ringing in the parish church for the Conversion of St. +Paul, that the two draggled travellers rode in over the bridge of +Fotheringay, seeing the castle-keep rise grim and grey out of the +river-mists on the right; and, passing on, dismounted in the yard of the +New Inn. They had had one or two small misadventures by the way, and +young Merton, through sheer sleepiness, had so reeled in his saddle on +the afternoon of Monday, that the priest had insisted that they should +both have at least one good night's rest. But they had ridden all +Tuesday night without drawing rein, and Robin, going up to the room that +he was to share with the young man, fell upon the bed, and asleep, all +in one act. + + * * * * * + +He was awakened by the trumpets sounding for dinner in the castle-yard, +and sat up to find young John looking at him. The news that he brought +drove the last shreds of sleep from his brain. + +"I have seen Mr. Melville, my master, sir. He bids me say it is useless +for Mr. Bourgoign, or anyone else, to attempt anything with Sir Amyas +for the present. Mr. Melville hath spoken to Sir Amyas as to his +separation from her Grace, and could get no reason for it. But the same +day--it was of Monday--her Grace's butler was forbidden any more to +carry the white rod before her dishes. This is as much as to signify, +Mr. Melville says, that her Grace's royalty shall no longer protect her. +It is their intention, he says, to degrade her first, before they +execute her. And we may look for the warrant any day, my master says." + +The young man stared at him mournfully. + +"And M. de Préau?" + +"M. de Préau goes about as a ghost. He will come and speak with your +Reverence before the day is out. Meanwhile, Mr. Melville says you may +walk abroad freely. Sir Amyas never goes forth of the castle now, and +none will notice. But they might take notice, Mr. Melville says, if you +were to lie all day in your chamber." + + * * * * * + +It was after dinner, as Robin rose from the table in a parlour, where he +had dined with two or three lawyers and an officer of Mr. FitzWilliam, +that John Merton came to him and told him that a gentleman was waiting. +He went upstairs and found the priest, a little timorous-looking man, +dressed like a minister, pacing quickly to and fro in the tiny room at +the top of the house where John and he were to sleep. The Frenchman +seized his two hands and began to pour out in an agitated whisper a +torrent of French and English. Robin disengaged himself. + +"You must sit down, M. de Préau," he said, "and speak slowly, or I shall +not understand one word. Tell me precisely what I must do. I am here to +obey orders--no more. I have no design in my head at all. I will do what +Mr. Bourgoign and yourself decide." + + * * * * * + +It was pathetic to watch the little priest. He interrupted himself by a +thousand apostrophes; he lifted hands and eyes to the ceiling +repeatedly; he named his poor mistress saint and martyr; he cried out +against the barbarian land in which he found himself, and the +bloodthirsty tigers with whom, like a second Daniel, he himself had to +consort; he expatiated on the horrible risk that he ran in venturing +forth from the castle on such an errand, saying that Sir Amyas would +wring his neck like a hen's, if he so much as suspected the nature of +his business. He denounced, with feeble venom, the wickedness of these +murderers, who would not only slay his mistress's body, but her soul as +well, if they could, by depriving her of a priest. Incidentally, +however, he disclosed that at present there was no plan at all for +Robin's admission. Mr. Bourgoign had sent for him, hoping that he might +be able to reintroduce him once more on the same pretext as at Chartley; +but the incident of Monday, when the white rod had been forbidden, and +the conversation of Sir Amyas to Mr. Melville had made it evident that +an attempt at present would be worse than useless. + +"You must yourself choose!" he cried, with an abominable accent. "If you +will imperil your life by remaining, our Lord will no doubt reward you +in eternity; but, if not, and you flee, not a man will blame you--least +of all myself, who would, no doubt, flee too, if I but dared." + +This was frank and humble, at any rate. Robin smiled. + +"I will remain," he said. + +The Frenchman seized his hands and kissed them. + +"You are a hero and a martyr, monsieur! We will perish together, +therefore." + + +II + +After the Frenchman's departure, and an hour's sleep in that profundity +of unconsciousness that follows prolonged effort, Robin put on his sword +and hat and cloak, having dressed himself with care, and went slowly out +of the inn to inspect the battlefield. He carried himself deliberately, +with a kind of assured insolence, as if he had supreme rights in this +place, and were one of that crowd of persons--great lords, lawyers, +agents of the court--to whom for the last few months Fotheringay had +become accustomed. He turned first to the right towards the castle, and +presently was passing down its long length. + +It looked, indeed, a royal prison. A low wall on his right protected the +road from the huge outer moat that ran, in the shape of a fetterlock, +completely round all the buildings; and beyond it, springing immediately +from the edge of the water, rose the massive outer wall, pierced here +and there with windows. He thought that he could make out the tops of +the hall windows in one place, beyond the skirting wall, the pinnacles +of the chapel in another, and a row of further windows that might be +lodgings in a third; but from without here nothing was certain, except +the gigantic keep, that stood high to the west, and the strong towers +that guarded the drawbridge; this, as he went by, was lowered to its +place, and he could look across it into the archway, where four men +stood on guard with their pikes. The inner doors, however, were closed +beyond them, and he could see nothing of the inner moat that surrounded +the court, nor the yard itself. Neither did he think it prudent to ask +any questions, though he looked freely about him; since the part he must +play for the present plainly was that of one who had a right here and +knew what he did. + +He came back to the inn an hour later, after a walk through the village +and round the locked church: this was a splendid building, with flying +buttresses and a high tower, with exterior carvings of saints and +evangelists all in place. But it looked desolate to him, and he was the +more dejected, as he seemed no nearer to the Queen than before, and with +little chance of getting there. Meanwhile, there was but one thing to be +done, and that the hardest of all--to wait. Perhaps in a few days he +might get speech with Mr. Bourgoign; yet for the present that, too, as +the priest had told him, was out of the question. + + +III + +Five days were gone by, Sunday had come and gone, and yet there had been +no news, except a letter conveyed to him by Merton, written by Mr. +Bourgoign himself, telling him that he had news that Mr. Beale, the +Clerk of the Council, was to arrive some time that week, and that this +presaged the approach of the end. He would, therefore, do his utmost +within the next few days to approach Sir Amyas and ask for the admission +of the young herbalist who had done her Grace so much good at Chartley. +He added that if any question were to be raised as to why he had been so +long in the place, and why, indeed, he had come at all, he was to answer +fearlessly that Mr. Bourgoign had sent for him. + +On the Sunday night Robin could not sleep. Little by little the hideous +suspense was acting upon him, and the knowledge that not a hundred yards +away from him the wonderful woman whom he had seen at Chartley, the +loving and humble Catholic, who had kneeled so ardently before her Lord, +the Queen who had received from him the sacraments for which she +thirsted--the knowledge that she was breaking her heart, so near, for +the consolation which a priest only could give, and that he, a priest, +was free to go through all England, except through that towered gateway +past which he walked every day--this increased his misery and his +longing. + +The very day he had been through--the Sunday on which he could neither +say nor even hear mass (for, because of the greatness of that which was +at stake, he had thought it wiser to bring with him nothing that could +arouse suspicion)--and the hearing of the bells from the church calling +to Protestant prayers, and the sight of the crowds going and +returning--this brought him lower than he had been since his first +coming to England. He lay then in the darkness, turning from side to +side, thinking of these things, listening to the breathing of the young +man who lay on blankets at the foot of his bed. + +About midnight he could lie there no longer. He got out of bed +noiselessly, stepped across the other, went to the window-seat and sat +down there, staring out, with eyes well accustomed to the darkness, +towards the vast outline against the sky which he knew was the keep of +the castle. No light burned there to relieve its brutality. It remained +there, implacable as English justice, immovable as the heart of +Elizabeth and the composure of the gaoler who kept it.... Then he +drew out Mr. Maine's rosary and began to recite the "Sorrowful +Mysteries."... + +He supposed afterwards that he had begun to doze; but he started, +wide-awake, at a sudden glare of light in his eyes, as if a beacon had +flared for an instant somewhere within the castle enclosure. It was gone +again, however; there remained the steady monstrous mass of building and +the heavy sky. Then, as he watched, it came again, without warning and +without sound--that same brilliant flare of light, against which the +towers and walls stood out pitch-black. A third time it came, and all +was dark once more. + + * * * * * + +In the morning, as he sat over his ale in the tavern below, he listened, +without lifting his eyes, engrossed, it seemed, in a little book he was +reading, to the excited talk of a group of soldiers. One of them, he +said, had been on guard beneath the Queen's windows last night, and +between midnight and one o'clock had seen three times a brilliant light +explode itself, like soundless gunpowder, immediately over the room +where she slept. And this he asserted, over and over again. + + +IV + +On the following Saturday John Merton came up into the room where the +priest was sleeping after dinner and awakened him. + +"If you will come at once with me, sir, you can have speech with Mr. +Bourgoign. My master has sent me to tell you so; Mr. Bourgoign has leave +to go out." + +Robin said nothing. It was the kind of opportunity that must not be +imperilled by a single word that might be overheard. He threw on his +great cloak, buckled his sword on, and followed with every nerve awake. +They went up the street leading towards the church, and turned down a +little passage-way between two of the larger houses; the young man +pushed on a door in the wall; and Robin went through, to find himself in +a little enclosed garden with Mr. Bourgoign gathering herbs from the +border, not a yard from him. The physician said nothing; he glanced +sharply up and pointed to a seat set under the shelter of the wall that +hid the greater part of the garden from the house to which it belonged; +and as Robin reached it, Mr. Bourgoign, still gathering his herbs, began +to speak in an undertone. + +"Do not speak except very softly, if you must," he said. "The Queen is +sick again; and I have leave to gather herbs for her in two or three +gardens. It was refused to me at first and then granted afterwards. From +that I look for the worst.... Beale will come to-morrow, I hear.... +Paulet refused me leave the first time, I make no doubt, knowing that +all was to end within a day or two: then he granted it me, for fear I +should suspect his reason. (Can you hear me, sir?)" + +Robin nodded. His heart thumped within him. + +"Well, sir; I shall tell Sir Amyas to-morrow that my herbs do no +good--that I do not know what to give her Grace. I have seen her Grace +continually, but with a man in the room always.... Her Grace knows that +you are here, and bids me thank you with all her heart.... I shall speak +to Sir Amyas, and shall tell him that you are here: and that I sent for +you, but did not dare to ask leave for you until now. If he refuses I +shall know that all is finished, and that Beale has brought the warrant +with him.... If he consents I shall think that it is put off for a +little...." + +He was very near to Robin now, still, with a critical air pushing the +herbs this way and that, selecting one now and again. + +"Have you anything to say to me, sir? Do not speak loud. The fellow that +conducted me from the castle is drinking ale in the house behind. He did +not know of this door on the side.... Have you anything to say?" + +"Yes," said Robin. + +"What is it?" + +"Two things. The first is that I think one of the fellows in the inn is +doubtful of me. Merton tells me he has asked a great number of questions +about me. What had I best do?" + +"Who is he?" + +"He is a servant of my lord Shrewsbury's who is in the neighbourhood." + +The doctor was silent. + +"Am I in danger?" asked the priest quietly. "Shall I endanger her +Grace?" + +"You cannot endanger her Grace. She is near her end in any case. But +for yourself--" + +"Yes." + +"You are endangering yourself every instant by remaining," said the +doctor dryly. + +"The second matter--" began Robin. + +"But what of yourself--" + +"Myself must be endangered," said Robin softly. "The second matter is +whether you cannot get me near her Grace in the event of her execution. +I could at least give her absolution _sub conditione_." + +Mr. Bourgoign shot a glance at him which he could not interpret. + +"Sir," he said; "God will reward you.... As regards the second matter it +will be exceedingly difficult. If it is to be in the open court, I may +perhaps contrive it. If it is to be in the hall, none but known persons +would be admitted.... Have you anything more, sir?" + +"No." + +"Then you had best be gone again at once.... Her Grace prays for you.... +She had a fit of weeping last night to know that a priest was here and +she not able to have him.... Do you pray for her...." + + +V + +Sunday morning dawned; the bells pealed out; the crowds went by the +church and came back to dinner; and yet no word had come to the inn. +Robin scarcely stirred out all that day for fear a summons should come +and he miss it. He feigned a little illness and sat wrapped up in the +corner window of the parlour upstairs, whence he could command both +roads--that which led to the Castle, and that which led to the bridge +over which Mr. Beale must come. He considered it prudent also to do +this, because of the fellow of whom Merton had told him--a man that +looked like a groom, and who was lent, he heard, with one or two others +by his master to do service at the Castle. + +Robin's own plan had been distinct ever since M. de Préau had brought +him the first message. He bore himself, as has been said, assuredly and +confidently; and if he were questioned would simply have said that he +had business connected with the Castle. This, asserted in a proper tone, +would probably have its effect. There was so much mystery, involving +such highly-placed personages from the Queen of England downwards, that +discretion was safer than curiosity. + + * * * * * + +It was growing towards dark when Robin, after long and fruitless staring +down the castle road, turned himself to the other. The parlour was empty +at this hour except for himself. + +He saw the group gathering as usual at the entrance to the bridge to +watch the arrivals from London, who, if there were any, generally came +about this time. + +Then, as he looked, he saw two horsemen mount the further slope of the +bridge, and come full into view. + +Now there was nothing whatever about these two persons, in outward +appearance, to explain the strange effect they had upon the priest. They +could not possibly be the party for which he was watching. Mr. Beale +would certainly come with a great company. They were, besides, plainly +no more than serving-men: one wore some kind of a livery; the other, a +strongly-built man who sat his horse awkwardly, was in new clothes that +did not fit him. They rode ordinary hackneys; and each had luggage +strapped behind his saddle. All this the priest saw as they came up the +narrow street and halted before the inn door. They might, perhaps, be +servants of Mr. Beale; yet that did not seem probable as there was no +sign of a following party. The landlord came out on to the steps +beneath; and after a word or two, they slipped off their horses wearily, +and led them round into the court of the inn. + +All this was usual enough; the priest had seen such arrivals a dozen +times at this very door; yet he felt sick as he looked at them. There +appeared to him something terrible and sinister about them. He had seen +the face of the liveried servant; but not of the other: this one had +carried his head low, with his great hat drawn down on his head. The +priest wondered, too, what they carried in their trunks. + + * * * * * + +When he went down to supper in the great room of the inn, he could not +forbear looking round for them. But only one was to be seen--the +liveried servant who had done the talking. + +Robin turned to his neighbour--a lawyer with whom he had spoken a few +times. + +"That is a new livery to me," he said, nodding towards the stranger. + +"That?" said the lawyer. "That? Why, that is the livery of Mr. +Walsingham. I have seen it in London." + + * * * * * + +Towards the end of supper a stir broke out among the servants who sat at +the lower end of the room near the windows that looked out upon the +streets. Two or three sprung up from the tables and went to look out. + +"What is that?" cried the lawyer. + +"It is Mr. Beale going past, sir," answered a voice. + +Robin lifted his eyes with an effort and looked. Even as he did so there +came a trampling of horses' hoofs; and then, in the light that streamed +from the windows, there appeared a company on horseback. They were too +far away from where he sat, and the lights were too confusing, for him +to see more than the general crowd that went by--perhaps from a dozen to +twenty all told. But by them ran the heads of men who had waited at the +bridge to see them go by; and a murmuring of voices came even through +the closed windows. It was plain that others besides those who were +close to her Grace, saw a sinister significance in Mr. Beale's arrival. + + +VI + +Robin had hardly reached his room after supper and a little dessert in +the parlour, before Merton came in. He drew his hand out of his breast +as he entered, and, with a strange look, gave the priest a folded +letter. Robin took it without a word and read it through. + +After a pause he said to the other: + +"Who were those two men that came before supper? I saw them ride up." + +"There is only one, sir. He is one of Mr. Walsingham's men." + +"There were two," said the priest. + +"I will inquire, sir," said the young man, looking anxiously from the +priest's face to the note and back again. + +Robin noticed it. + +"It is bad news," he said shortly. "I must say no more.... Will you +inquire for me; and come and tell me at once." + +When the young man had gone Robin read the note again before destroying +it. + +"I spoke to Sir A. to-day. He will have none of it. He seemed highly +suspicious when I spoke to him of you. If you value your safety more +than her Grace's possible comfort, you had best leave at once. In any +case, use great caution." + +Then, in a swift, hurried hand there followed a post-script: + +"Mr. B. is just now arrived, and is closeted with Sir A. All is over, I +think." + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later Merton came back and found the priest still in the +same attitude, sitting on the bed. + +"They will have none of it, sir," he said. "They say that one only came, +in advance of Mr. Beale." + +He came a little closer, and Robin could see that he was excited. + +"But you are right, sir, for all their lies. I saw supper plates and an +empty flagon come down from the stair that leads to the little chamber +above the kitchen." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +Overhead lay the heavy sky of night-clouds like a curved sheet of dark +steel, glimmering far away to the left with gashes of pale light. In +front towered the twin gateway, seeming in the gloom to lean forward to +its fall. Lights shone here and there in the windows, vanished and +appeared again, flashing themselves back from the invisible water +beneath. About, behind and on either side, there swayed and murmured +this huge crowd--invisible in the darkness--peasants, gentlemen, +clerks, grooms--all on an equality at last, awed by a common tragedy +into silence, except for words exchanged here and there in an undertone, +or whispered and left unanswered, or sudden murmured prayers to a God +who hid Himself indeed. Now and again, from beyond the veiling walls +came the tramp of men; once, three or four brisk notes blown on a horn; +once, the sudden rumble of a drum; and once, when the silence grew +profound, three or four blows of iron on wood. But at that the murmur +rose into a groan and drowned it again.... + +So the minutes passed.... Since soon after midnight the folks had been +gathering here. Many had not slept all night, ever since the report had +run like fire through the little town last evening, that the sentence +had been delivered to the prisoner. From that time onwards the road that +led down past the Castle had never been empty. It was now moving on to +dawn, the late dawn of February; and every instant the scene grew more +distinct. It was possible for those pushed against the wall, or against +the chains of the bridge that had been let down an hour ago, to look +down into the chilly water of the moat; to see not the silhouette only +of the huge fortress, but the battlements of the wall, and now and again +a steel cap and a pike-point pass beyond it as the sentry went to and +fro. Noises within the Castle grew more frequent. The voice of an +officer was heard half a dozen times; the rattle of pike-butts, the +clash of steel. The melancholy bray of the horn-blower ran up a minor +scale and down again; the dub-dub of a drum rang out, and was thrown +back in throbs by the encircling walls. The galloping of horses was +heard three or four times as a late-comer tore up the village street and +was forced to halt far away on the outskirts of the crowd--some country +squire, maybe, to whom the amazing news had come an hour ago. Still +there was no movement of the great doors across the bridge. The men on +guard there shifted their positions; nodded a word or two across to one +another; changed their pikes from one hand to the other. It seemed as if +day would come and find the affair no further advanced.... + +Then, without warning (for so do great climaxes always come), the doors +wheeled back on their hinges, disclosing a line of pikemen drawn up +under the vaulted entrance; a sharp command was uttered by an officer at +their head, causing the two sentries to advance across the bridge; a +great roaring howl rose from the surging crowd; and in an instant the +whole lane was in confusion. Robin felt himself pushed this way and +that; he struggled violently, driving his elbows right and left; was +lifted for a moment clean from his feet by the pressure about him; +slipped down again; gained a yard or two; lost them; gained three or +four in a sudden swirl; and immediately found his feet on wood instead +of earth; and himself racing desperately as a loose group of runners, +across the bridge; and beneath the arch of the castle-gate. + + +II + +When he was able to take breath again, and to substitute thought for +blind instinct, he found himself tramping in a kind of stream of men +into what appeared an impenetrably packed crowd. He was going between +ropes, however, which formed a lane up which it was possible to move. +This lane, after crossing half the court, wheeled suddenly to one side +and doubled on itself, conducting the newcomers behind the crowd of +privileged persons that had come into the castle overnight, or had been +admitted three or four hours ago. These persons were all people of +quality; many of them, out of a kind of sympathy for what was to happen, +were in black. They stood there in rows, scarcely moving, scarcely +speaking, some even bare-headed, filling up now, so far as the priest +could see, the entire court, except in that quarter in which he +presently found himself--the furthest corner away from where rose up the +tall carved and traceried windows of the banqueting-hall. Yet, though no +man spoke above an undertone, a steady low murmur filled the court from +side to side, like the sound of a wagon rolling over a paved road. + +He reached his place at last, actually against the wall of the soldiers' +lodgings, and found, presently, that a low row of projecting stones +enabled him to raise himself a few inches, and see, at any rate, a +little better than his neighbours. He had perceived one thing +instantly--namely, that his dream of getting near enough to the Queen to +give her absolution before her death was an impossible one. He had known +since yesterday that the execution was to take place in the hall, and +here was he, within the court certainly, yet as far as possible away +from where he most desired to be. + + * * * * * + +The last two days had gone by in a horror that there is no describing. +All the hours of them he had passed at his parlour window, waiting +hopelessly for the summons which never came. John Merton had gone to the +castle and come back, each time with more desolate news. There was not a +possibility, he said, when the news was finally certified, of getting a +place in the hall. Three hundred gentlemen had had those places already +assigned; four or five hundred more, it was expected, would have space +reserved for them in the courtyard. The only possibility was to be early +at the gateway, since a limited number of these would probably be +admitted an hour or so before the time fixed for the execution. + +The priest had seen many sights from his parlour window during those two +days. + +On Monday he had seen, early in the morning, Mr. Beale ride out with his +men to go to my lord Shrewsbury, who was in the neighbourhood, and had +seen him return in time for dinner, with a number of strangers, among +whom was an ecclesiastic. On inquiry, he found this to be Dr. Fletcher, +Dean of Peterborough, who had been appointed to attend Mary both in her +lodgings and upon the scaffold. In the afternoon the street was not +empty for half an hour. From all sides poured in horsemen; gentlemen +riding in with their servants; yeomen and farmers come in from the +countryside, that they might say hereafter that they had at least been +in Fotheringay when a Queen suffered the death of the axe. So the dark +had fallen, yet lights moved about continually, and horses' hoofs never +ceased to beat or the voices of men to talk. Until he fell asleep at +last in his window-seat, he listened always to these things; watched +the lights; prayed softly to himself; clenched his nails into his hands +for indignation; and looked again. On the Tuesday morning came the +sheriff, to dine at the castle with Sir Amyas--a great figure of a man, +dignified and stalwart, riding in the midst of his men. After dinner +came the Earl of Kent, and, last of all, my lord Shrewsbury himself--he +who had been her Grace's gaoler, until he proved too kind for +Elizabeth's taste--now appointed, with peculiar malice, to assist at her +execution. He looked pale and dejected as he rode past beneath the +window. + +Yet all this time the supreme horror had been that the end was not +absolutely certain. All in Fotheringay were as convinced as men could +be, who had not seen the warrant nor heard it read, that Mr. Beale had +brought it with him on Sunday night; the priest, above all, from his +communications with Mr. Bourgoign, was morally certain that the terror +was come at last.... It was not until the last night of Mary's life on +earth was beginning to close in that John Merton came up to the parlour, +white and terrified, to tell him that he had been in his master's room +half an hour ago, and that Mr. Melville had come in to them, his face +all slobbered with tears, and had told him that he had but just come +from her Grace's rooms, and had heard with his own ears the sentence +read to her, and her gallant and noble answer.... He had bidden him to +go straight off to the priest, with a message from Mr. Bourgoign and +himself, to the effect that the execution was appointed for eight +o'clock next morning; and that he was to be at the gate of the castle +not later than three o'clock, if, by good fortune, he might be admitted +when the gates were opened at seven. + + +III + +And now that the priest was in his place, he began again to think over +that answer of the Queen. The very words of it, indeed, he did not know +for a month or two later, when Mr. Bourgoign wrote to him at length; but +this, at least, he knew, that her Grace had said (and no man +contradicted her at that time) that she would shed her blood to-morrow +with all the happiness in the world, since it was for the cause of the +Catholic and Roman Church that she died. It was not for any plot that +she was to die: she professed again, kissing her Bible as she did so, +that she was utterly guiltless of any plot against her sister. She died +because she was of that Faith in which she had been born, and which +Elizabeth had repudiated. As for death, she did not fear it; she had +looked for it during all the eighteen years of her imprisonment. + +It was at a martyrdom, then, that he was to assist.... He had known +that, without a doubt, ever since the day that Mary had declared her +innocence at Chartley. There had been no possibility of thinking +otherwise; and, as he reflected on this, he remembered that he, too, was +guilty of the same crime;... and he wondered whether he, too, would die +as manfully, if the need for it ever came. + + * * * * * + +Then, in an instant, he was called back, by the sudden crash of horns +and drums playing all together. He saw again the ranks of heads before +him: the great arched windows of the hall on the other side of the +court, the grim dominating keep, and the merciless February morning sky +over all. + +It was impossible to tell what was going on. + +On all sides of him men jostled and murmured aloud. One said, "She is +coming down"; another, "It is all over"; another, "They have awakened +her." "What is it? what is it?" whispered Robin to the air, watching +waves of movement pass over the serried heads before him. The lights +were still burning here and there in the windows, and the tall panes of +the hall were all aglow, as if a great fire burned within. Overhead the +sky had turned to daylight at last, but they were grey clouds that +filled the heavens so far as he could see. Meanwhile, the horns brayed +in unison, a rough melody like the notes of bugles, and the drums beat +out the time. + +Again there was a long pause--in which the lapse of time was +incalculable. Time had no meaning here: men waited from incident to +incident only--the moving of a line of steel caps, a pause in the music, +a head thrust out from a closed window and drawn back again.... Again +the music broke out, and this time it was an air that they played--a +lilting melancholy melody, that the priest recognised, yet could not +identify. Men laughed subduedly near him; he saw a face wrinkled with +bitter mirth turned back, and he heard what was said. It was "Jumping +Joan" that was being played--the march consecrated to the burning of +witches. He had heard it long ago, as a boy.... + +Then the rumour ran through the crowd, and spent itself at last in the +corner where the priest stood trembling with wrath and pity. + +"She is in the hall." + +It was impossible to know whether this were true, or whether she had not +been there half an hour already. The horror was that all might be over, +or not yet begun, or in the very act of doing. He had thought that there +would be some pause or warning--that a signal would be given, perhaps, +that all might bare their heads or pray, at this violent passing of a +Queen. But there was none. The heads surged and quieted; murmurs burst +out and died again; and all the while the hateful, insolent melody rose +and fell; the horns bellowed; the drums crashed. It sounded like some +shocking dance-measure; a riot of desperate spirits moved in it, +trampling up and down, as if in one last fling of devilish gaiety.... + + * * * * * + +Then suddenly the heads grew still; a wave of motionlessness passed over +them, as if some strange sympathy were communicated from within those +tall windows. The moments passed and passed. It was impossible to hear +those murmurs, through the blare of the instruments; there was one sound +only that could penetrate them; and this, rising from what seemed at +first the wailing of a child, grew and grew into the shrill cries of a +dog in agony. At the noise once more a roar of low questioning surged up +and fell. Simultaneously the music came to an abrupt close; and, as if +at a signal, there sounded a great roar of voices, all shouting together +within the hall. It rose yet louder, broke out of doors, and was taken +up by those outside. The court was now one sea of tossing heads and open +mouths shouting--as if in exultation or in anger. Robin fought for his +place on the projecting stones, clung to the rough wall, gripped a +window-bar and drew himself yet higher. + +Then, as he clenched himself tight and stared out again towards the tall +windows that shone in bloody flakes of fire from the roaring logs +within; a sudden and profound silence fell once more before being +shattered again by a thousand roaring throats.... + +For there, in full view beyond the clear glass stood a tall, black +figure, masked to the mouth, who held in his out-stretched hands a wide +silver dish, in which lay something white and round and slashed with +crimson.... + + + + + + +PART IV + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +"There is no more to be said, then," said Marjorie, and leaned back, +with a white, exhausted face. "We can do no more." + + * * * * * + +It was a little council of Papists that was gathered--a year after the +Queen's death at Fotheringay--in Mistress Manners' parlour. Mr. John +FitzHerbert was there; he had ridden up an hour before with heavy news +from Padley and its messenger. Mistress Alice was there, quiet as ever, +yet paler and thinner than in former years (Mistress Babington herself +had gone back to her family last year). And, last, Robin himself was +there, having himself borne the news from Derby. + +He had had an eventful year, yet never yet had he come within reach of +the pursuivant. But he had largely effected this by the particular care +which he had observed with regard to Matstead, and his silence as to his +own identity. Extraordinary care, too, was observed by his friends, who +had learned by now to call him even in private by his alias; and it +appeared certain that beyond a dozen or two of discreet persons it was +utterly unsuspected that the stately bearded young gentleman named Mr. +Robert Alban--the "man of God," as, like other priests, he was commonly +called amongst the Catholics--had any connection whatever with the +hawking, hunting, and hard-riding lover of Mistress Manners. It was +known, indeed, that Mr. Robin had gone abroad years ago to be made +priest; but those who thought of him at all, or, at least as returned, +believed him sent to some other part of England, for the sake of his +father, and it was partly because of the very fact that his father was +so hot against the Papists that it had been thought safe at Rheims to +send him to Derbyshire, since this would be the very last place in which +he would be looked for. + +He had avoided Matstead then--riding through it once only by night, with +strange emotions--and had spent most of his time in the south of +Derbyshire, crossing more than once over into Stafford and Chester, and +returning to Padley or to Booth's Edge once in every three or four +months. He had learned a hundred lessons in these wanderings of his. + +The news that he had now brought with him was of the worst. He had heard +from Catholics in Derby that Mr. Simpson, returned again after his +banishment, recaptured a month or two ago, and awaiting trial at the +Lent Assizes, was beginning to falter. Death was a certainty for him +this time, and it appeared that he had seemed very timorous before two +or three friends who had visited him in gaol, declaring that he had done +all that a man could do, that he was being worn out by suffering and +privation, and that there was some limit, after all, to what God +Almighty should demand. + +Marjorie had cried out just now, driven beyond herself at the thought of +what all this must mean for the Catholics of the countryside, many of +whom already had fallen away during the last year or two beneath the +pitiless storm of fines, suspicions, and threats--had cried out that it +was impossible that such a man as Mr. Simpson could fall; that the ruin +it would bring upon the Faith must be proportionate to the influence he +already had won throughout the country by his years of labour; +entreating, finally, when the trustworthiness of the report had been +forced upon her at last, that she herself might be allowed to go and +see him and speak with him in prison. + +This, however, had been strongly refused by her counsellors just now. +They had declared that her help was invaluable; that the amazing manner +in which her little retired house on the moors had so far evaded grave +suspicion rendered it one of the greatest safeguards that the hunted +Catholics possessed; that the work she was doing by her organization of +messengers and letters must not be risked, even for the sake of a matter +like this.... + +She had given in at last. But her spirit seemed broken altogether. + + +II + +"There is one more matter," said Robin presently, uncrossing one +splashed leg from over the other. "I had not thought to speak of it; but +I think it best now to do so. It concerns myself a little; and, +therefore, if I may flatter myself, it concerns my friends, too." + +He smiled genially upon the company; for if there was one thing more +than another he had learned in his travels, it was that the tragic air +never yet helped any man. + +Marjorie lifted her eyes a moment. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "you remember my speaking to you after +Fotheringay, of a fellow of my lord Shrewsbury's who honoured me with +his suspicions?" + +She nodded. + +"I have never set eyes on him from that day to this--to this," he added. +"And this morning in the open street in Derby whom should I meet with +but young Merton and his father. (Her Grace's servants have suffered +horribly since last year. But that is a tale for another day.) Well: I +stopped to speak with these two. The young man hath left Mr. Melville's +service a while back, it seems; and is to try his fortune in France. +Well; we were speaking of this and that, when who should come by but a +party of men and my lord Shrewsbury in the midst, riding with Mr. Roger +Columbell; and immediately behind them my friend of the 'New Inn' of +Fotheringay. It was all the ill-fortune in the world that it should be +at such moment; if he had seen me alone he would have thought no more of +me; but seeing me with young Jack Merton, he looked from one to the +other. And I will stake my hat he knew me again." + +Marjorie was looking full at him now. + +"What was my lord Shrewsbury doing in Derby with Mr. Columbell?" mused +Mr. John, biting his moustaches. + +"It was the very question I put to myself," said Robin. "And I took the +liberty of seeing where they went. They went to Mr. Columbell's own +house, and indoors of it. The serving-men held the horses at the door. I +watched them awhile from Mr. Biddell's window; but they were still there +when I came away at last." + +"What hour was that?" asked the old man. + +"That would be after dinner-time. I had dined early; and I met them +afterwards. My lord would surely be dining with Mr. Columbell. But that +is no answer to my question. It rather pierces down to the further +point, Why was my lord Shrewsbury dining with Mr. Columbell? Shrewsbury +is a great lord; Mr. Columbell is a little magistrate. My lord hath his +own house in the country, and there be good inns in Derby." + +He stopped short. + +"What is the matter, Mistress Manners?" he asked. + +"What of yourself?" she said sharply; "you were speaking of yourself." + +Robin laughed. + +"I had forgotten myself for once!... Why, yes; I intended to ask the +company what I had best do. What with this news of Mr. Simpson, and the +report Mistress Manners gives us of the country-folk, a poor priest must +look to himself in these days; and not for his own sake only. Now, my +lord Shrewsbury's man knows nothing of me except that I had strange +business at Fotheringay a year ago. But to have had strange business at +Fotheringay a year ago is a suspicious circumstance; and--" + +"Mr. Alban," broke in the old man, "you had best do nothing at all. You +were not followed from Derby; you are as safe in Padley or here as you +could be anywhere in England. All that you had best do is to remain here +a week or two and not go down to Derby again for the present. I think +that showing of yourself openly in towns hath its dangers as well as its +safeguards." + +Mr. John glanced round. Marjorie bowed her head in assent. + +"I will do precisely as you say," said Robin easily. "And now for the +news of her Grace's servants." + +He had already again and again told the tale of Fotheringay so far as he +had seen it in this very parlour. At first he had hardly found himself +able to speak of it without tears. He had described the scene he had +looked upon when, in the rush that had been made towards the hall after +Mary's head had been shown at the window, he had found a place, and had +been forced along, partly with his will and partly against it, right +through the great doors into the very place where the Queen had +suffered; and he had told the story so well that his listeners had +seemed to see it for themselves--the great hall hung with black +throughout; the raised scaffold at the further end beside the fire that +blazed on the wide hearth; the Queen's servants being led away +half-swooning as he came in; the dress of velvet, the straw and the +bloody sawdust, the beads and all the other pitiful relics being heaped +upon the fire as he stood there in the struggling mob; and, above all, +the fallen body, in its short skirt and bodice lying there where it fell +beside the low, black block. He had told all this as he had seen it for +himself, until the sheriff's men drove them all forth again into the +court; and he had told, too, of all that he had heard afterwards, that +had happened until my lord Shrewsbury's son had ridden out at a gallop +to take the news to court, and the imprisoned watchers had been allowed +to leave the Castle; how the little dog, that he had heard wailing, had +leapt out as the head fell at the third stroke, so that he was all +bathed in his mistress' blood--one of the very spaniels, no doubt, which +he himself had seen at Chartley; how the dog was taken away and washed +and given afterwards into Mr. Melville's charge; how the body and the +head had been taken upstairs, had been roughly embalmed, and laid in a +locked chamber; how her servants had been found peeping through the +keyhole and praying aloud there, till Sir Amyas had had the hole stopped +up. He had told them, too, of the events that followed; of the mass M. +de Préau had been permitted to say in the Queen's oratory on the morning +after; and of the oath that he had been forced to take that he would not +say it again; of the destruction of the oratory and the confiscation of +the altar furniture and vestments. + +All this he had told, little by little; and of the Queen's noble bearing +upon the scaffold, her utter fearlessness, her protestations that she +died for her religion and for that only, and of the pesterings of Dr. +Fletcher, Dean of Peterborough, who had at last given over in despair, +and prayed instead. The rest they knew for themselves--of the miserable +falseness of Elizabeth, who feigned, after having signed the warrant and +sent it, that it was Mr. Davison's fault for doing as she told him; and +of her accusations (accusations that deceived no man) against those who +had served her; of the fires made in the streets of all great towns as a +mark of official rejoicing over Mary's death; and of the pitiful +restitution made by the great funeral in Peterborough, six months after, +and the royal escutcheons and the tapers and the hearse, and all the +rest of the lying pretences by which the murderess sought to absolve her +victim from the crime of being murdered. Well; it was all over.... + + * * * * * + +And now he told them of what he had heard to-day from young Merton in +Derby; of how Nau, Mary's French secretary--the one who had served her +for eleven years and had been loaded by her kindness--had been rewarded +also by Elizabeth, and that the nature of his services was unmistakable; +while all the rest of them, who had refused utterly to take any part in +the insolent mourning at Peterborough, either in the Cathedral or at the +banquet, had fallen under her Grace's displeasure, so that some of them, +even now, were scarcely out of ward, Mr. Bourgoign alone excepted, since +he was allowed to take the news of the death to their Graces of France, +and had, most wisely, remained there ever since. + + * * * * * + +So the party sat round the fire in the same little parlour where they +had sat so often before, with the lutes and wreaths embroidered on the +hangings and Icarus in the chariot of the sun; and Robin, after telling +his tale, answered question after question, till silence fell, and all +sat motionless, thinking of the woman who, while dead, yet spoke. + +Then Mr. John stood up, clapped the priest on the back, and said that +they two must be off to Padley for the night. + + +III + +They had all risen to their feet when a knocking came on the door, and +Janet looked in. She seemed a little perturbed. + +"If you please, sir," she said to Mr. John, "one of your men is come up +from Padley; and wishes to speak to you alone." + +Mr. John gave a quick glance at the others. + +"If you will allow me," he said, "I will go down and speak with him in +the hall." + +The rest sat down again. It was the kind of interruption that might be +wholly innocent; yet, coming when it did, it affected them a little. +There seemed to be nothing but bad news everywhere. + +The minutes passed, yet no one returned. Once Marjorie went to the door +and listened, but there was only the faint wail of the winter wind up +the stairs to be heard. Then, five minutes later, there were steps and +Mr. John came in. His face looked a little stern, but he smiled with his +mouth. + +"We poor Papists are in trouble again," he said. "Mistress Manners, you +must let us stay here all night, if you will; and we will be off early +in the morning. There is a party coming to us from Derby--to-morrow or +next day: it is not known which." + +"Why, yes! And what party?" said Marjorie, quietly enough, though she +must have guessed its character. The smile left his mouth. + +"It is my son that is behind it," he said. "I had wondered we had not +had news of him! There is to be a general search for seminarists in the +High Peak" (he glanced at Robin), "by order of my lord Shrewsbury. Your +namesake, mistress, Mr. John Manners, and our friend Mr. Columbell, are +commissioned to search; and Mr. Fenton and myself are singled out to be +apprehended immediately. Thomas knows that I am at Padley, and that Mr. +Eyre will come in there for Candlemas, the day after to-morrow; in that +I recognize my son's knowledge. Well, I will dispatch my man who brought +the news to Mr. Eyre to bid him to avoid the place; and we two, Mr. +Alban and myself, will make our way across the border into Stafford." + +"There are none others coming to Padley to-morrow?" asked Marjorie. + +"None that I know of. They will come in sometimes without warning; but I +cannot help that. Mr. Fenton will be at Tansley: he told me so." + +"How did the news come?" asked Robin. + +"It seems that the preacher Walton, in Derby, hath been warned that we +shall be delivered to him two days hence. It was his servant that told +one of mine. I fear he will be a-preparing his sermons to us, all for +nothing." + +He smiled bitterly again. Robin could see the misery in this man's heart +at the thought that it was his own son who had contrived this. Mr. +Thomas had been quiet for many months, no doubt in order to strike the +more surely in his new function as "sworn man" of her Grace. Yet he +would seem to have failed. + +"We shall not get our candles then, this year either," smiled Mr. +Thomas. "Lanterns are all that we shall have." + + * * * * * + +There was not much time to be lost. Luggage had to be packed, since it +would not be safe for the three to return until at least two or three +weeks had passed; and Marjorie, besides, had to prepare a list of places +and names that must be dealt with on their way--places where word must +be left that the hunt was up again, and names of particular persons +that were to be warned. Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam were in the county, +and these must be specially informed, since they were known, and Mr. +Garlick in particular had already suffered banishment and returned +again, so that there would be no hope for him if he were once more +captured. + +The four sat late that night; and Robin wondered more than ever, not +only at the self-command of the girl, but at her extraordinary knowledge +of Catholic affairs in the county. She calculated, almost without +mistake, as was afterwards shown, not only which priests were in +Derbyshire, but within a very few miles of where they would be and at +what time: she showed, half-smiling, a kind of chart which she had drawn +up, of the movements of the persons concerned, explaining the plan by +which each priest (if he desired) might go on his own circuit where he +would be most needed. She lamented, however, the fewness of the priests, +and attributed to this the growing laxity of many families--living, it +might be, in upland farms or in inaccessible places, where they could +but very seldom have the visits of the priest and the strength of the +sacraments. + +Before midnight, therefore, the two travellers had complete directions +for their journey, as well as papers to help their memories, as to where +the news was to be left. And at last Mr. John stood up and stretched +himself. + +"We must go to bed," he said. "We must be booted by five." + +Marjorie nodded to Alice, who stood up, saying she would show him where +his bed had been prepared. + +Robin lingered for a moment to finish his last notes. + +"Mr. Alban," said Marjorie suddenly, without lifting her eyes from the +paper on which she wrote. + +"Yes?" + +"You will take care to-morrow, will you not?" she said. "Mr. John is a +little hot-headed. You must keep him to his route?" + +"I will do my best," said Robin, smiling. + +She lifted her clear eyes to his without tremor or shame. + +"My heart would be broken altogether if aught happened to you. I look to +you as our Lord's chief soldier in this county." + +"But--" + +"That is so," she said. "I do not know any man who has been made perfect +in so short a time. You hold us all in your hands." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +It was in Mr. Bassett's house at Langley that the news of the attack on +Padley reached the two travellers a month later, and it bore news in it +that they little expected. + +For it seemed that, entirely unexpectedly, there had arrived at Padley +the following night no less than three of the FitzHerbert family, Mr. +Anthony the seventh son, with two of his sisters, as well as Thomas +FitzHerbert's wife, who rode with them, whether as a spy or not was +never known. Further, Mr. Fenton himself, hearing of their coming, had +ridden up from Tansley, and missed the messenger that Marjorie had sent +out. They had not arrived till late, missing again, by a series of +mischances, the scouts Marjorie had posted; and, on discovering their +danger, had further discovered the house to be already watched. They +judged it better, therefore, as Marjorie said in her letter, to feign +unconsciousness of any charge against them, since there was no priest in +the house who could incriminate them. + +All this the travellers learned for the first time at Langley. + +They had gone through into Staffordshire, as had been arranged, and +there had moved about from house to house of Catholic friends without +any trouble. It was when at last they thought it safe to be moving +homewards, and had arrived at Langley, that they found Marjorie's letter +awaiting them. It was addressed to Mr. John FitzHerbert and was brought +by Robin's old servant, Dick Sampson. + +"The assault was made," wrote Marjorie, "according to the arrangement. +Mr. Columbell himself came with a score of men and surrounded the house +very early, having set watchers all in place the evening before: they +had made certain they should catch the master and at least a priest or +two. But I have very heavy news, for all that; for there had come to the +house after dark Mr. Anthony FitzHerbert, with two of his sisters, Mrs. +Thomas FitzHerbert and Mr. Fenton himself, and they have carried the two +gentlemen to the Derby gaol. I have had no word from Mr. Anthony, but I +hear that he said that he was glad that his father was not taken, and +that his own taking he puts down to his brother's account, as yourself, +sir, also did. The men did no great harm in Padley beyond breaking a +panel or two: they were too careful, I suppose, of what they think will +be Mr. Topcliffe's property some day! And they found none of the +hiding-holes, which is good news. The rest of the party they let go free +again for the present. + +"I have another piece of bad news, too--which is no more than what we +had looked for: that Mr. Simpson at the Assizes was condemned to death, +but has promised to go to church, so that his life is spared if he will +do so. He is still in the gaol, however, where I pray God that Mr. +Anthony may meet with him and bring him to a better mind; so that he +hath not yet denied our Lord, even though he hath promised to do so. + +"May God comfort and console you, Mr. FitzHerbert, for this news of Mr. +Anthony that I send." + + * * * * * + +The letter ended with messages to the party, with instructions for their +way of return if they should come within the next week; and with the +explanation, given above, of the series of misfortunes by which any came +to be at Padley that night, and how it was that they did not attempt to +break out again. + + * * * * * + +The capture of Mr. Anthony was, indeed, one more blow to his father; but +Robin was astonished how cheerfully he bore it; and said as much when +they two were alone in the garden. + +The grey old man smiled, while his eyelids twitched a little. + +"They say that when a man is whipped he feels no more after awhile. The +former blows prepare him and dull his nerves for the later, which, I +take it, is part of God's mercy. Well, Mr. Alban, my father hath been in +prison a great while now; my son Thomas is a traitor, and a sworn man of +her Grace; I myself have been fined and persecuted till I have had to +sell land to pay the fines with. I have seen family after family fall +from their faith and deny it. So I take it that I feel the joy that I +have a son who is ready to suffer for it, more than the pain I have in +thinking on his sufferings. The one may perhaps atone for the sins of +the other, and yet help him to repentance." + + * * * * * + +Life here at Langley was more encouraging than the furtive existence +necessary in the north of Derbyshire. + +Mr. Bassett had a confident way with him that was like wine to fainting +hearts, and he had every reason to be confident; since up to the +present, beyond being forced to pay the usual fines for recusancy, he +had scarcely been troubled at all; and lived in considerable prosperity, +having even been sheriff of Stafford in virtue of his other estates at +Blore. His house at Langley was a great one, standing in a park, and +showing no signs of poverty; his servants were largely Catholic; he +entertained priests and refugees of all kinds freely, although +discreetly; and he laughed at the notion that the persecution could be +of long endurance. + +The very first night the travellers had come he had spoken with +considerable freedom after supper. + +"Look more hearty!" he cried. "The Spanish fleet will be here before +summer to relieve us of all troubles, as of all heretics, too. Her Grace +will have to turn her coat once more, I think, when that comes to pass." + +Mr. John glanced at him doubtfully. + +"First," he said, "no man knows whether it will come. And, next, I for +one am not sure if I even wish for it." + +Mr. Bassett laughed loudly. + +"You will dance for joy!" he said. "And why do you not know whether you +wish it to come?" + +"I have no taste to be a Spanish subject." + +"Why, nor have I! But the King of Spain will but sail away again when he +hath made terms against the privateers, whether they be those that ply +on the high seas against men's bodies, or here in England against their +souls. There will be no subjection of England beyond that." + +Mr. John was silent. + +"Why, I heard from Sir Thomas but a week ago, to ask for a little money +to pay his fines with. He said that repayment should follow so soon as +the fleet should come. Those were his very words." + +"You sent the money, then?" + +"Why, yes; I made shift that a servant should throw down a bag with ten +pounds in it, into a bush, and that Brittlebank--your brother's +man--should see him do it! And lo! when we looked again, the bag was +gone!" + +He laughed again with open mouth. Certainly he was an inspiriting man +with a loud bark of his own; but Robin imagined that he would not bite +too cruelly for all that. But he saw another side of him presently. + +"What was that matter of Mr. Sutton, the priest who was executed in +Stafford last year?" asked Mr. John suddenly. + +The face of the other changed as abruptly. His eyes became pin-points +under his grey eyebrows and his mouth tightened. + +"What of him?" he said. + +"It was reported that you might have stayed the execution, and would +not. I did not believe a word of it." + +"It is true," said Mr. Bassett sharply--"at least a portion of it." + +"True?" + +"Listen," cried the other suddenly, "and tell me what you would have +done. Mr. Sutton was taken, and was banished, and came back again, as +any worthy priest would do. Then he was taken again, and condemned. I +did my utmost to save him, but I could not. Then, as I would never have +any part in the death of a priest for his religion, another was +appointed to carry the execution through. Three days before news was +brought to me by a private hand that Mr. Sutton had promised to give the +names of priests whom he knew, and of houses where he had said mass, and +I know not what else; and it was said to me that I might on this account +stay the execution until he had told all that he could. Now I knew that +I could not save his life altogether; that was forfeited and there could +be no forgiveness. All that I might do was to respite him for a +little--and for what? That he might damn his own soul eternally and +bring a great number of good men into trouble and peril of death for +themselves. I sent the messenger away again, and said that I would +listen to no such tales. And Mr. Sutton died like a good priest three +days after, repenting, I doubt not, bitterly, of the weakness into which +he had fallen. Now, sir, what would you have done in my place?" + +He wagged his face fiercely from side to side. + +Mr. John put his hand over his eyes and nodded without speaking. Robin +sat silent: it was not only for priests, it seemed, that life presented +a tangle. + + +II + +The evening before the two left for the north again, Mr. Bassett took +them both into his own study. It was a little room opening out of his +bedroom, and was more full of books than Robin had ever seen, except in +the library at Rheims, in any room in the world. A shelf ran round the +room, high on the wall, and was piled with manuscripts to the ceiling. +Beneath, the book-shelves that ran nearly round the room were packed +with volumes, and a number more lay on the table and even in the +corners. + +"This is my own privy chamber," said Mr. Bassett to the priest. "My +other friends have seen it many a time, but I thought I would show it to +your Reverence, too." + +Robin looked round him in wonder: he had no idea that his host was a man +of such learning. + +"All the books are ranged in their proper places," went on the other. "I +could put my finger on any of them blind-fold. But this is the shelf I +wished you to see." + +He took him to one that was behind the door, holding up the candle that +he might see. The shelf had a box or two on it, besides books, and these +he opened and set on the table. Robin looked in, as he was told, but +could understand nothing that he saw: in one was a round ball of crystal +on a little gold stand, wrapped round in velvet; in another some kind of +a machine with wheels; in a third, some dried substances, as of herbs, +tied together with silk. He inspected them gravely, but was not invited +to touch them. Then his host touched him on the breast with one finger, +and recoiled, smiling. + +"This is my magic," he said. "John here does not like it; neither did +poor Mr. Fenton when he was here; but I hold there is no harm in such +things if one does but observe caution." + +"What do you do with them, sir?" inquired the priest curiously, for he +was not sure whether the man was serious. + +"Well, sir, I hold that God has written His will in the stars, and in +the burning of herbs, and in the shining of the sun, and such things. +There is no black magic here. But, just as we read in the sky at +morning, if it be red or yellow, whether it will be foul or fair, so I +hold that God has written other secrets of His in other things; and that +by observing them and judging rightly we may guess what He has in store. +I knew that a prince was to die last year before ever it happened. I +knew that a fleet of ships will come to England this year, before ever +an anchor is weighed. And I would have you notice that here are Mr. +FitzHerbert and your Reverence, too, fleeing for your lives; and here +sit I safe at home; and all, as I hold, because I have been able to +observe by my magic what is to come to pass." + +"But that strikes at the doctrine of free-will," cried the priest. + +"No, sir; I think it does not. God's foreknowledge doth not hinder the +use of our free-will (which is a mystery, no doubt, yet none the less +true). Then why should God's foreknowledge any more hinder our +free-will, when He chooses to communicate it to us?" + +Robin was silent. He knew little or nothing of these things, except from +his theological reading. Yet he felt uneasy. The other said nothing. + +"And the stars, too?" he asked. + +"I hold," said Mr. Bassett, "that the stars have certain influences and +powers upon those that are born under their signs. I do not hold that we +are so ruled by these that we have no action of our own, any more than +we are compelled to be wet through by rain or scorched by the sun: we +may always come into a house or shelter beneath a tree, and thus escape +them. So, too, I hold, with the stars. There is an old saying, sir: 'The +fool is ruled by his stars; the wise man rules them.' That is, in a +nutshell, my faith in the matter. I have told Mr. Fenton's fortune here, +and Mr. FitzHerbert's, only they will never listen to me." + +Robin looked round the room. It was dark outside long ago; they had +supped at sunset, and sat for half an hour over their banquet of +sweetmeats and wine before coming upstairs. And the room, too, was as +dark as night, except where far off in the west, beyond the tall trees +of the park, a few red streaks lingered. He felt oppressed and +miserable. The place seemed to him sinister. He hated these fumblings at +locks that were surely meant to remain closed. Yet he did not know what +to say. Mr. John had wandered off to one of the windows and was humming +uneasily to himself. + +Then, suddenly, an intense curiosity overcame him. + +His life was a strange and perilous one; he carried it in his hand every +day. In the morning he could not be sure but that he would be fleeing +before evening. As he fell asleep, he could not be sure that he would +not be awakened to a new dream. He had long ago conquered those moods of +terror which, in spite of his courage, had come down on him sometimes, +in some lonely farm, perhaps, where flight would be impossible--or, in +what was far more dangerous, in some crowded inn where every movement +was known--these had passed, he thought, never to come back. + +But in that little book-lined room, with these curious things in boxes +on the table, and his merry host peering at him gravely, and the still +evening outside; with the knowledge that to-morrow he was to ride back +to his own country, whence he had fled for fear of his life, six weeks +ago; leaving the security of this ex-sheriff's house for the perils of +the Peak and all that suspected region from which even now, probably, +the pursuit had not altogether died away--here a sudden intense desire +to know what the future might hold overcame him. + +"Tell me, sir," he said. "You have told Mr. FitzHerbert's fortune, you +say, as well as others. Have you told mine since I have been here?" + +There was a moment's silence. Mr. John was silent, with his back turned. +Robin looked up at his host, wondering why he did not answer. Then Mr. +Bassett took up the candle. + +"Come," he said; "we have been here long enough." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +"There will be a company of us to-night," said Mr. John to the two +priests, as he helped them to dismount. "Mr. Alban has sent his man +forward from Derby to say that he will be here before night." + +"Mr. Ludlam and I are together for once," said Mr. Garlick. "We must +separate again to-morrow, he is for the north again, he tells me. There +has been no more trouble?" + +"Not a word of it. They were beaten last time and will not try again, I +think, for the present. You heard of the attempt at Candlemas, then?" + + * * * * * + +It had been a quiet time enough ever since Lent, throughout the whole +county; and it seemed as if the heat of the assault had cooled for want +of success. Plainly a great deal had been staked upon the attack on +Padley, which, for its remoteness from towns, was known to be a +meeting-place where priests could always find harbourage. And, indeed, +it was time that the Catholics should have a little breathing space. +Things had been very bad with them--the arrest of Mr. Simpson, and, +still more, his weakness (though he had not as yet actually fulfilled +his promise of going to church, and was still detained in gaol); the +growing lukewarmness of families that seldom saw a priest; the blows +struck at the FitzHerbert family; and, above all, the defection of Mr. +Thomas--all these things had brought the hearts of the faithful very +low. Mr. John himself had had an untroubled time since his return a +little before Easter; but he had taken the precaution not to remain too +long at Padley at one time; he had visited his other estates at +Swynnerton and elsewhere, and had even been back again at Langley. But +there had been no hint of any pursuit. Padley had remained untouched; +the men went about their farm business; the housekeeper peered from her +windows, without a glimpse of armed men such as had terrified the +household on Candlemas day. + +It was only last night, indeed, that the master had returned, in time to +meet the two priests who had asked for shelter for a day or two. They +had stayed here before continually, as well as at Booth's Edge, during +their travels, both in the master's absence and when he was at home. +There were a couple of rooms kept vacant always for "men of God"; and +all priests who came were instructed, of course (in case of necessity), +as to the hiding-holes that Mr. Owen had contrived a few years before. +Never, however, had there been any use made of them. + + * * * * * + +It was a hot July afternoon when the two priests were met to-day by Mr. +John outside the arched gate that ran between the hall and the buttery. +They had already dined at a farm a few miles down the valley, but they +were taken round the house at once to the walled garden, where drink and +food were set out. Here their dusty boots were pulled off; they laid +aside their hats, and were presently at their ease again. + +They were plain men, these two; though Mr. Garlick had been educated at +Oxford, and, before his going to Rheims, had been schoolmaster at +Tideswell. In appearance he was a breezy sunburnt man, with very little +of the clerk about him, and devoted to outdoor sports (which was +something of a disguise to him since he could talk hawking and riding +in mixed company with a real knowledge of the facts). He spoke in a loud +voice with a strong Derbyshire accent, which he had never lost and now +deliberately used. Mr. Ludlam looked for more of the priest: he was a +clean-shaven man, of middle-age, with hair turning to grey on his +temples, and with a very pleasant disarming smile; he spoke very little, +but listened with an interested and attentive air. Both were, of course, +dressed in the usual riding costume of gentlemen, and used good horses. + +It was exceedingly good to sit here, with the breeze from over the moors +coming down on them, with cool drink before them, and the prospect of a +secure day, at any rate, in this stronghold. Their host, too, was +contented and serene, and said so, frankly. + +"I am more at peace, gentlemen," he said, "than I have been for the past +five years. My son is in gaol yet; and I am proud that he should be +there, since my eldest son--" (he broke off a moment). "And I think the +worst of the storm is over. Her Grace is busying herself with other +matters." + +"You mean the Spanish fleet, sir?" said Mr. Garlick. + +He nodded. + +"It is not that I look for final deliverance from Spain," he said. "I +have no wish to be aught but an Englishman, as I said to Mr. Bassett a +while ago. But I think the fleet will distract her Grace for a while; +and it may very well mean that we have better treatment hereafter." + +"What news is there, sir?" + +"I hear that the Londoners buzz continually with false alarms. It was +thought that the fleet might arrive on any day; but I understand that +the fishing-boats say that nothing as yet been seen. By the end of the +month, I daresay, we shall have news." + +So they talked pleasantly in the shade till the shadows began to +lengthen. They were far enough here from the sea-coast to feel somewhat +detached from the excitement that was beginning to seethe in the south. +At Plymouth, it was said, all had been in readiness for a month or two +past; at Tilbury, my lord Leicester was steadily gathering troops. But +here, inland, it was more of an academic question. The little happenings +in Derby; the changes of weather in the farms; the deaths of old people +from the summer heats--these things were far more vital and significant +than the distant thunders of Spain. A beacon or two had been piled on +the hills, by order of the authorities, to pass on the news when it +should come; a few lads had disappeared from the countryside to drill in +Derby marketplace; but except for these things, all was very much as it +had been from the beginning. The expected catastrophe meant little more +to such folk than the coming of the Judgment Day--certain, but +infinitely remote from the grasp of the imagination. + + * * * * * + +The three were talking of Robin as they came down towards the house for +supper, and, as they turned the corner, he himself was at that moment +dismounting. + +He looked surprisingly cool and well-trimmed, considering his ride up +the hot valley. He had taken his journey easily, he said, as he had had +a long day yesterday. + +"And I made a round to pay a visit to Mistress Manners," he said. "I +found her a-bed when I got there; and Mrs. Alice says she will not be at +mass to-morrow. She stood too long in the sun yesterday, at the carrying +of the hay; it is no more than that." + +"Mistress Manners is a marvel to me," said Garlick, as they went towards +the house. "Neither wife nor nun. And she rules her house like a man; +and she knows if a priest lift his little finger in Derby. She sent me +my whole itinerary for this last circuit of mine; and every point fell +out as she said." + + * * * * * + +Robin thought that he had seldom had so pleasant a supper as on that +night. The windows of the low hall where he had dined so often as a boy, +were flung wide to catch the scented evening air. The sun was round to +the west and threw long, golden rays, that were all lovely light and no +heat, slantways on the paved floor and the polished tables and the +bright pewter. Down at the lower end sat the servants, brown men, burned +by the sun; lean as panthers, scarcely speaking, ravenous after their +long day in the hayfields; and up here three companions with whom he was +wholly at his ease. The evening was as still as night, except for the +faint peaceful country sounds that came up from the valley below--the +song of a lad riding home; the barking of a dog; the bleat of sheep--all +minute and delicate, as unperceived, yet as effective, as a rich fabric +on which a design is woven. It seemed to him as he listened to the +talk--the brisk, shrewd remarks of Mr. Garlick; the courteous and rather +melancholy answers of his host; as he watched the second priest's eyes +looking gently and pleasantly about him; as he ate the plain, good food +and drank the country drink, that, in spite of all, his lot was cast in +very sweet places. There was not a hint here of disturbance, or of men's +passions, or of ugly strife: there was no clatter, as in the streets of +Derby, or pressure of humanity, or wearying politics of the +market-place. He found himself in one of those moods that visit all men +sometimes, when the world appears, after all, a homely and a genial +place; when the simplest things are the best; when no excitement or +ambition or furious zeal can compare with the gentle happiness of a +tired body that is in the act of refreshment, or of a driven mind that +is finding its relaxation. At least, he said to himself, he would enjoy +this night and the next day and the night after, with all his heart. + + * * * * * + +The four found themselves so much at ease here, that the dessert was +brought in to them where they sat; and it was then that the first +unhappy word was spoken. + +"Mr. Simpson!" said Garlick suddenly. "Is there any more news of him?" + +Mr. John shook his head. + +"He hath not yet been to church, thank God!" he said. "So much I know +for certain. But he hath promised to go." + +"Why is he not yet gone? He promised a great while ago." + +"I hear he hath been sick. Derby gaol is a pestiferous place. They are +waiting, I suppose, till he is well enough to go publicly, that all the +world may be advertised of it!" + +Mr. Garlick gave a bursting sigh. + +"I cannot understand it at all," he said. "There has never been so +zealous a priest. I have ridden with him again and again before I was a +priest. He was always quiet; but I took him to be one of those +stout-hearted souls that need never brag. Why, it was here that we heard +him tell of Mr. Nelson's death!" + +Mr. John threw out his hands. + +"These prisons are devilish," he said; "they wear a man out as the rack +can never do. Why, see my son!" he cried. "Oh! I can speak of him if I +am but moved enough! It was that same Derby gaol that wore him out too! +It is the darkness, and the ill food, and the stenches and the misery. A +man's heart fails him there, who could face a thousand deaths in the +sunlight. Man after man hath fallen there--both in Derby, and in London +and in all the prisons. It is their heart that goes--all the courage +runs from them like water, with their health. If it were the rack and +the rope only, England would be Catholic, yet, I think." + +The old man's face blazed with indignation; it was not often that he so +spoke out his mind. It was very easy to see that he had thought +continually of his son's fall. + +"Mistress Manners hath told me the very same thing," said Robin. "She +visited Mr. Thomas in gaol once at least. She said that her heart failed +her altogether there." + +Mr. Ludlam smiled. + +"I suppose it is so," he said gently, "since you say so. But I think it +would not be so with me. The rack and the rope, rather, are what would +shake me to the roots, unless God His Grace prevailed more than it ever +yet hath with see." + +He smiled again. + +Robin shook his head sharply. + +"As for me--!" he said grimly, with tight lips. + + * * * * * + +It was a lovely night of stars as the four stepped out of the archway +before going upstairs to the parlour. Behind them stood the square and +solid house, resembling a very fortress. The lights that had been +brought in still shone through the windows, and a hundred night insects +leapt and poised in the brightness. + +And before them lay the deep valley--silent now except for the trickle +of the stream; dark (since the moon was not yet risen), except for one +light that burned far away in some farm-house on the other side; and +this light went out, like a closing eye, even as they looked. But +overhead, where God dwelt, all heaven was alive. The huge arch resting, +as it appeared, on the monstrous bases of the moors and hills standing +round this place, like the mountains about Jerusalem, was one shimmering +vault of glory, as if it was there that the home of life had its place, +and this earth beneath but a bedroom for mortals, or for those that were +too weary to aspire or climb. The suggestion was enormously powerful. +Here was this mortal earth that needed rest so cruelly--that must have +darkness to refresh its tired eyes, coolness to recuperate its passion, +and silence, if ever its ears were to hear again. But there was radiance +unending. All day a dome of rigid blue; all night a span of glittering +lights--the very home of a glory that knows no waste and that therefore +needs no reviving: it was to that only, therefore, that a life must be +chained which would not falter or fail in the unending tides and changes +of the world.... + +A soft breeze sprang up among the tops of the chestnuts; and the sound +was as of the going of a great company that whispered for silence. + + +II + +It was within an hour of dawn that the first mass was said next morning +by Mr. Robert Alban. + +The chapel was decked out as they seldom dared to deck it in those days; +but the failure of the last attempt on this place, and the peace that +had followed, made them bold. + +The carved chest of newly-cut oak was in its place, with a rich carpet +of silk spread on its face; and, on the top, the three linen cloths as +prescribed by the Ritual. Two silver candlesticks, that stood usually on +the high shelf over the hall-fire, and a silver crucifix of Flemish +work, taken from the hiding-place, were in a row on the back, with red +and white flowers, between. Beneath the linen cloths a tiny flat +elevation showed where the altar stone lay. The rest of the chapel, in +its usual hangings, had only sweet herbs on the floor; with two or three +long seats carried up from the hall below. An extraordinary sweetness +and peace seemed in the place both to the senses and the soul of the +young priest as he went up to the altar to vest. Confessions had been +heard last night; and, as he turned, in the absolute stillness of the +morning, and saw, beneath those carved angels that still to-day lean +from the beams of the roof, the whole little space already filled with +farm-lads, many of whom were to approach the altar presently, and the +grey head of their master kneeling on the floor to answer the mass, it +appeared to him as if the promise of last night were reversed, and that +it was, after all, earth rather than heaven that proclaimed the peace +and the glory of God.... + + * * * * * + +Robin served the second mass himself, said by Mr. Garlick, and made his +thanksgiving as well as he could meanwhile; but he found what appeared +to him at the time many distractions, in watching the tanned face and +hands of the man who was so utterly a countryman for nine-tenths of his +life, and so utterly a priest for the rest. His very sturdiness and +breeziness made his reverence the more evident and pathetic: he read the +mass rapidly, in a low voice, harshened by shouting in the open air over +his sports, made his gestures abruptly, and yet did the whole with an +extraordinary attention. After the communion, when he turned for the +wine and water, his face, as so often with rude folk in a great emotion, +browned as it was with wind and sun, seemed lighted from within; he +seemed etherealized, yet with his virility all alive in him. A phrase, +wholly inapplicable in its first sense, came irresistibly to the younger +priest's mind as he waited on him. "When the strong man, armed, keepeth +his house, his goods are in peace." + +Robin heard the third mass, said by Mr. Ludlam, from a corner near the +door; and this one, too, was a fresh experience. The former priest had +resembled a strong man subdued by grace; the second, a weak man ennobled +by it. Mr. Ludlam was a delicate soul, smiling often, as has been said, +and speaking little--"a mild man," said the countryfolk. Yet, at the +altar there was no weakness in him; he was as a keen, sharp blade, +fitted as a heavy knife cannot be, for fine and peculiar work. His +father had been a yeoman, as had the other's; yet there must have been +some unusual strain of blood in him, so deft and gentle he was--more at +his ease here at God's Table than at the table of any man.... So he, +too, finished his mass, and began to unvest.... + +Then, with a noise as brutal as a blasphemy, there came a thunder of +footsteps on the stairs; and a man burst into the room, with glaring +eyes and rough gestures. + +"There is a company of men coming up from the valley," he cried; "and +another over the moor.... And it is my lord Shrewsbury's livery." + + +III + +In an instant all was in confusion; and the peace had fled. Mr. John was +gone; and his voice could be heard on the open stairs outside speaking +rapidly in sharp, low whispers to the men gathered beneath; and, +meanwhile, three or four servants, two men and a couple of maids, +previously drilled in their duties, were at the altar, on which Mr. +Ludlam had but that moment laid down his amice. The three priests stood +together waiting, fearing to hinder or to add to the bustle. A low +wailing rose from outside the door; and Robin looked from it to see if +there were anything he could do. But it was only a little country +servant crouching on the tiny landing that united the two sets of stairs +from the court, with her apron over her head: she must have been in the +partitioned west end of the chapel to hear the mass. He said a word to +her; and the next instant was pushed aside, as a man tore by bearing a +great bundle of stuffs--vestments and the altar cloths. When he turned +again, the chapel was become a common room once more: the chest stood +bare, with a great bowl of flowers on it; the candlesticks were gone; +and the maid was sweeping up the herbs. + +"Come, gentlemen," said a sharp voice at the door, "there is no time to +lose." + +He went out with the two others behind, and followed Mr. John +downstairs. Already the party of servants was dispersed to their +stations; two or three to keep the doors, no doubt, and the rest back to +kitchen work and the like, to give the impression that all was as usual. + +The four went straight down into the hall, to find it empty, except for +one man who stood by the fire-place. But a surprising change had taken +place here. Instead of the solemn panelling, with the carved shield that +covered the wall over the hearth, there was a great doorway opened, +through which showed, not the bricks of the chimney-breast, but a black +space large enough to admit a man. + +"See here," said Mr. John, "there is room for two here, but no more. +There is room for a third in another little chamber upstairs that is +nearly joined on to this: but it is not so good. Now, gentlemen--" + +"This is the safer of the two?" asked Robin abruptly. + +"I think it to be so. Make haste, gentlemen." + +Robin wheeled on the others. He said that there was no time to argue in. + +"See!" he said. "I have not yet been taken at all. Mr. Garlick hath +been taken; and Mr. Ludlam hath had a warning. There is no question that +you must be here." + +"I utterly refuse--" began Garlick. + +Robin went to the door in three strides; and was out of it. He closed +the door behind him and ran upstairs. As he reached the head his eye +caught a glint of sunlight on some metal far up on the moor beyond the +belt of trees. He did not turn his head again; he went straight in and +waited. + +Presently he heard steps coming up, and Mr. John appeared smiling and +out of breath. + +"I have them in," he said, "by promising that there was no great +difference after all; and that there was no time. Now, sir--" And he +went towards the wall at which, long ago, Mr. Owen had worked so hard. + +"And yourself, sir?" asked Robin, as once more an innocent piece of +panelling moved outwards under Mr. John's hand. + +"I'll see to that; but not until you are in--" + +"But--" + +The old man's face blazed suddenly up. + +"Obey me, if you please. I am the master here. I tell you I have a very +good place." + +There was no more to be said. Robin advanced to the opening, and sat +down to slide himself in. It was a little door about two feet square, +with a hole beneath it. + +"Drop gently, Mr. Alban," whispered the voice in his ear. "The altar +vessels are at the bottom, with the crucifix, on some soft stuff.... +That is it. Slide in and let yourself slip. There is some food and drink +there, too." + +Robin did so. The floor of the little chamber was about five feet down, +and he could feel woodwork on all three sides of him. + +"When the door is closed," said the voice from the daylight, "push a +pair of bolts on right and left till they go home. Tap upon the shutter +when it is done." + +The light vanished, and Robin was aware of a faint smell of smoke. Then +he remembered that he had noticed a newly lit fire on the hearth of the +hall.... He found the bolts, pushed them, and tapped lightly three +times. He heard a hand push on the shutter to see that all was secure, +and then footsteps go away over the floor on a level with his chin. + +Then he remembered that he must be in the same chamber with his two +fellow-priests, separated from them by the flooring on which he stood. +He rapped gently with his foot twice. Two soft taps came back. Silence +followed. + + +IV + +Time, as once before in his experience, seemed wholly banished from this +place. There were moments of reflection when he appeared to himself as +having but just entered; there were other moments when he might have +been here for an eternity that had no divisions to mark it. He was in +complete and utter darkness. There was not a crack anywhere in the +woodwork (so perfect had been the young carpenter's handiwork) by which +even a glimmer of light could enter. A while ago he had been in the +early morning sunlight; now he might be in the grave. + +For a while his emotions and his thoughts raced one another, tumbling in +inextricable confusion; and they were all emotions and thoughts of the +present: intense little visions of the men closing round the house, +cutting off escape from the valley on the one side and from the wild +upland country on the other; questions as to where Mr. John would hide +himself; minute sensible impressions of the smoky flavour of the air, +the unplaned woodwork, the soft stuffs beneath his feet. Then they began +to extend themselves wider, all with that rapid unjarring swiftness: he +foresaw the bursting in of his stronghold; the footsteps within three +inches of his head; the crash as the board was kicked in: then the +capture; the ride to Derby, bound on a horse; the gaol; the questioning; +the faces of my lord Shrewsbury and the magistrates ... and the end.... + +There were moments when the sweat ran down his face, when he bit his +lips in agony, and nearly moaned aloud. There were others in which he +abandoned himself to Christ crucified; placed himself in Everlasting +Hands that were mighty enough to pluck him not only out of this snare, +but from the very hands that would hold him so soon; Hands that could +lift him from the rack and scaffold and set him a free man among his +hills again: yet that had not done so with a score of others whom he +knew. He thought of these, and of the girl who had done so much to save +them all, who was now saved herself by sickness, a mile or two away, +from these hideous straits. Then he dragged out Mr. Maine's beads and +began to recite the "Mysteries."... + + * * * * * + +There broke in suddenly the first exterior sign that the hunters were on +them--a muffled hammering far beneath his feet. There were pauses; then +voices carried up from the archway nearly beneath through the hollowed +walls; then hammering again; but all was heard as through wool. + +As the first noise broke out his mind rearranged itself and seemed to +have two consciousnesses. In the foreground he followed, intently and +eagerly, every movement below; in the background, there still moved +before him the pageant of deeper thoughts and more remote--of prayer and +wonder and fear and expectation; and from that onwards it continued so +with him. Even while he followed the sounds, he understood why my lord +Shrewsbury had made this assault so suddenly, after months of peace.... +He perceived the hand of Thomas FitzHerbert, too, in the precision with +which the attack had been made, and the certain information he must have +given that priests would be in Padley that morning. + +There were noises that he could not interpret--vague tramplings from a +direction which he could not tell; voices that shouted; the sound of +metal on stone. + +He did interpret rightly, however, the sudden tumult as the gate was +unbarred at last, and the shrill screaming of a woman as the company +poured through into the house; the clamour of voices from beneath as the +hall below was filled with men; the battering that began almost +immediately; and, finally, the rush of shod feet up the outside +staircases, one of which led straight into the chapel itself. Then, +indeed, his heart seemed to spring upwards into his throat, and to beat +there, as loud as knocking, so loud that it appeared to him that all the +house must hear it. + + * * * * * + +Yet it was still some minutes before the climax came to him. He was +still standing there, listening to voices talking, it seemed, almost in +his ears, yet whose words he could not hear; the vibration of feet that +shook the solid joist against which he had leaned his head, with closed +eyes; the brush of a cloak once, like a whisper, against the very panel +that shut him in. He could attend to nothing else; the rest of the drama +was as nothing to him: he had his business in hand--to keep away from +himself, by the very intentness of his will and determination, the feet +that passed so close. + +The climax came in a sudden thump of a pike foot within a yard of his +head, so imminent, that for an instant he thought it was at his own +panel. There followed a splintering sound of a pike-head in the same +place. He understood. They were sounding on the woodwork and piercing +all that rang hollow.... His turn, then, would come immediately. + +Talking voices followed the crash; then silence; then the vibration of +feet once more. The strain grew unbearable; his fingers twisted tight in +his rosary, lifted themselves once or twice from the floor edge on which +they were gripped, to tear back the bolts and declare himself. It seemed +to him in those instants a thousand times better to come out of his own +will, rather than to be poked and dragged from his hole like a badger. +In the very midst of such imaginings there came a thumping blow within +three inches of his face, and then silence. He leaned back desperately +to avoid the pike-thrust that must follow, with his eyes screwed tight +and his lips mumbling. He waited;... and then, as he waited, he drew an +irrepressible hissing breath of terror, for beneath the soft padding +under his feet he could feel movements; blow follow blow, from the same +direction, and last a great clamour of voices all shouting together. + +Feet ran across the floor on which his hands were gripped again, and +down the stairs. He perceived two things: the chapel was empty again, +and the priests below had been found. + + +V + +He could follow every step of the drama after that, for he appeared to +himself now as a mere witness, without personal part in it. + +First, there were voices below him, so clear and close that he could +distinguish the intonation, and who it was that spoke, though the words +were inaudible. + +It was Mr. Garlick who first spoke--a sentence of a dozen words, it +might be, consenting, no doubt, to come out without being dragged; +congratulating, perhaps (as the manner was), the searchers on their +success. A murmur of answer came back, and then one sharp, peevish voice +by itself. Again Mr. Garlick spoke, and there followed the shuffling of +movements for a long while; and then, so far as the little chamber was +concerned, empty silence. But from the hall rose up a steady murmur of +talk once more.... + +Again Robin's heart leaped in him, for there came the rattle of a +pike-end immediately below his feet. They were searching the little +chamber beneath, from the level of the hall, to see if it were empty. +The pike was presently withdrawn. + +For a long while the talking went on. So far as the rest of the house +was concerned, the hidden man could tell nothing, or whether Mr. John +were taken, or whether the search were given up. He could not even fix +his mind on the point; he was constructing for himself, furiously and +intently, the scene he imagined in the hall below; he thought he saw the +two priests barred in behind the high table; my lord Shrewsbury in the +one great chair in the midst of the room; Mr. Columbell, perhaps, or Mr. +John Manners talking in his ear; the men on guard over the, priests and +beside the door; and another, maybe, standing by the hearth. + +He was so intent on this that he thought of little else; though still, +on a strange background of another consciousness, moved scenes and ideas +such as he had had at the beginning. And he was torn from this +contemplation with the suddenness of a blow, by a voice speaking, it +seemed, within a foot of his head. + +"Well, we have those rats, at any rate." + +(He perceived instantly what had happened. The men were back again in +the chapel, and he had not heard them come. He supposed that he could +hear the words now, because of the breaking of the panel next to his +own.) + +"Ralph said he was sure of the other one, too," said a second voice. + +"Which was that one?" + +"The fellow that was at Fotheringay." + +(Robin clenched his teeth like iron.) + +"Well, he is not here." + +There was silence. + +"I have sounded that side," said the first voice sharply. + +"Well, but--" + +"I tell you I have sounded it. There is no time to be lost. My lord--" + +"Hark!" said the second voice. "There is my lord's man--" + +There followed a movement of feet towards the door, as it seemed to the +priest. + +He could hear the first man grumbling to himself, and beating listlessly +on the walls somewhere. Then a voice called something unintelligible +from the direction of the stairs; the beating ceased, and footsteps went +across the floor again into silence. + + +VI + +He was dazed and blinded by the light when, after infinite hours, he +drew the bolts and slid the panel open. + + * * * * * + +He had lost all idea of time utterly: he did not know whether he should +find that night had come, or that the next day had dawned. He had waited +there, period after period; he marked one of them by eating food that +had no taste and drinking liquid that stung his throat but did not +affect his palate; he had marked another by saying compline to himself +in a whisper. + +During the earlier part of those periods he had followed--he thought +with success--the dreadful drama that was acted in the house. Someone +had made a formal inspection of all the chambers--a man who said little +and moved heavily with something of a limp (he had thought this to be my +lord Shrewsbury himself, who suffered from the gout): this man had +walked slowly through the chapel and out again. + +At a later period he had heard the horses being brought round the house; +heard plainly the jingle of the bits and a sneeze or two. This had been +followed by long interminable talking, muffled and indistinguishable, +that came up to him from some unknown direction. Voices changed +curiously in loudness and articulation as the speakers moved about. + +At a later period a loud trampling had begun again, plainly from the +hall: he had interpreted this to mean that the prisoners were being +removed out of doors; and he had been confirmed in this by hearing +immediately afterwards again the stamping of horses and the creaking of +leather. + +Again there had been a pause, broken suddenly by loud women's wailing. +And at last the noise of horses moving off; the noise grew less; a man +ran suddenly through the archway and out again, and, little by little, +complete silence once more. + +Yet he had not dared to move. It was the custom, he knew, sometimes to +leave three or four men on guard for a day or two after such an assault, +in the hope of starving out any hidden fugitives that might still be +left. So he waited again--period after period; he dozed a little for +weariness, propped against the narrow walls of his hidinghole; woke; +felt again for food and found he had eaten it all ... dozed again. + +Then he had started up suddenly, for without any further warning there +had come a tiny indeterminate tapping against his panel. He held his +breath and listened. It came again. Then fearlessly he drew back the +bolts, slid the panel open and shut his eyes, dazzled by the light. + +He crawled out at last, spent and dusty. There was looking at him only +the little red-eyed maid whom he had tried to comfort at some far-off +hour in his life. Her face was all contorted with weeping, and she had a +great smear of dust across it. + +"What time is it?" he said. + +"It ... it is after two o'clock," she whispered. + +"They have all gone?" + +She nodded, speechless. + +"Whom have they taken?" + +"Mr. FitzHerbert ... the priests ... the servants." + +"Mr. FitzHerbert? They found him, then?" + +She stared at him with the dull incapacity to understand why he did not +know all that she had seen. + +"Where did they find him?" he repeated sharply. + +"The master ... he opened the door to them himself." + +Her face writhed itself again into grotesque lines, and she broke out +into shrill wailing and weeping. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +Marjorie was still in bed when the news was brought her by her friend. +She did not move or speak when Mistress Alice said shortly that Mr. +FitzHerbert had been taken with ten of his servants and two priests. + +"You understand, my dear.... They have ridden away to Derby, all of them +together. But they may come back here suddenly." + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam were in the chimney-hole of the hall," +whispered Mistress Alice, glancing fearfully behind her. + +Marjorie lay back again on her pillows. + +"And what of Mr. Alban?" she asked. + +"Mr. Alban was upstairs. They missed him. He is coming here after dark, +the maid says." + + * * * * * + +An hour after supper-time the priest came quietly upstairs to the +parlour. He showed no signs of his experience, except perhaps by a +certain brightness in his eyes and an extreme self-repression of manner. +Marjorie was up to meet him; and had in her hands a paper. She hardly +spoke a single expression of relief at his safety. She was as quiet and +business-like as ever. + +"You must lie here to-night," she said. "Janet hath your room ready. At +one o'clock in the morning you must ride: here is a map of your journey. +They may come back suddenly. At the place I have marked here with red +there is a shepherd's hut; you cannot miss it if you follow the track I +have marked. There will be meat and drink there. At night the shepherd +will come from the westwards; he is called David, and you may trust him. +You must lie there two weeks at least." + +"I must have news of the other priests," he said. + +Marjorie bowed her head. + +"I will send a letter to you by Dick Sampson at the end of two weeks. +Until that I can promise nothing. They may have spies round the house by +this time to-morrow, or even earlier. And I will send in that letter any +news I can get from Derby." + +"How shall I find my way?" asked Robin. + +"Until it is light you will be on ground that you know." (She flushed +slightly.) "Do you remember the hawking, that time after Christmas? It +is all across that ground. When daylight comes you can follow this map." +(She named one or two landmarks, pointing to them on the map.) "You must +have no lantern." + +They talked a few minutes longer as to the way he must go and the +provision that would be ready for him. He must take no mass requisites +with him. David had made that a condition. Then Robin suddenly changed +the subject. + +"Had my father any hand in this affair at Padley?" + +"I am certain he had not." + +"They will execute Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam, will they not?" + +She bowed her head in assent. + +"The Summer Assizes open on the eighteenth," she said. "There is no +doubt as to how all will go." + +Robin rose. + +"It is time I were in bed," he said, "if I must ride at one." + +The two women knelt for his blessing. + +At one o'clock Marjorie heard the horse brought round. She stepped +softly to the window, knowing herself to be invisible, and peeped out. + +All was as she had ordered. There was no light of any kind: she could +make out but dimly in the summer darkness the two figures of horse and +groom. As she looked, a third figure appeared beneath; but there was no +word spoken that she could hear. This third figure mounted. She caught +her breath as she heard the horse scurry a little with freshness, since +every sound seemed full of peril. Then the mounted figure faded one way +into the dark, and the groom another. + + +II + +It was two weeks to the day that Robin received his letter. + + * * * * * + +He had never before been so long in utter solitude; for the visits of +David did not break it; and, for other men, he saw none except a +hog-herd or two in the distance once or twice. The shepherd came but +once a day, carrying a great jug and a parcel of food, and set them down +without the hut; he seemed to avoid even looking within; but merely took +the empty jug of the day before and went away again. He was an old, bent +man, with a face like a limestone cliff, grey and weather-beaten; he +lived half the year up here in the wild Peak country, caring for a few +sheep, and going down to the village not more than once or twice a week. +There was a little spring welling up in a hollow not fifty yards away +from the hut, which itself stood in a deep, natural rift among the high +hills, so that men might search for it a lifetime and not come across +it. + +Robin's daily round was very simple. He had leave to make a fire by day, +but he must extinguish it at night lest its glow should be seen, so he +began his morning by mixing a little oatmeal, and then preparing his +dinner. About noon, so near as he could judge by the sun, he dined; +sometimes off a partridge or rabbit; on Fridays off half a dozen tiny +trout; and set aside part of the cold food for supper; he had one good +loaf of nearly black bread every day, and the single jug of small beer. + +The greater part of the day he spent within the hut, for safety's sake, +sleeping a little, and thinking a good deal. He had no books with him; +even his breviary had been forbidden, since David, as a shrewd man, had +made conditions, first that he should not have to speak with any +refugee, second, that if the man were a priest he should have nothing +about him that could prove him to be so. Mr. Maine's beads, only, had +been permitted, on condition that they were hidden always beneath a +stone outside the hut. + +After nightfall Robin went out to attend to his horse that was tethered +in the next ravine, over a crag; to shift his peg and bring him a good +armful of cut grass and a bucket of water. (The saddle and bridle were +hidden beneath a couple of great stones that leaned together not far +away.) After doing what was necessary for his horse, he went to draw +water for himself; and then took his exercise, avoiding carefully, +according to instructions, every possible skyline. And it was then, for +the most part, that he did his clear thinking.... He tried to fancy +himself in a fortnight's retreat, such as he had had at Rheims before +his reception of orders. + + * * * * * + +The evening of the twenty-fifth of July closed in stormy; and Robin, in +an old cloak he had found placed in the hut for his own use, made haste +to attend to what was necessary, and hurried back as quickly as he +could. He sat a while, listening to the thresh of the rain and the cry +of the wind; for, up here in the high land the full storm broke on him. +(The hut was wattled of osiers and clay, and kept out the wet tolerably +well.) + +He could see nothing from the door of his hut except the dim outline of +the nearer crag thirty or forty yards off; and he went presently to bed. + + * * * * * + +He awoke suddenly, wide awake--as is easy for a man who is sleeping in +continual expectation of an alarm--at the flash of light in his eyes. +But he was at once reassured by Dick's voice. + +"I have come, sir; and I have brought the mistress' letter." + +Robin sat up and took the packet. He saw now that the man carried a +little lantern with a slide over it that allowed only a thin funnel of +light to escape that could be shut off in an instant. + +"All well, Dick? I did not hear you coming." + +"The storm's too loud, sir." + +"All well?" + +"Mistress Manners thinks you had best stay here a week longer, sir." + +"And ... and the news?" + +"It is all in the letter, sir." + +Robin looked for the inscription, but there was none. Then he broke the +two seals, opened the paper and began to read. For the next five minutes +there was no sound, except the thresh of the rain and the cry of the +wind. The letter ran as follows: + + +III + +"Three more have glorified God to-day by a good confession--Mr. Garlick, +Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Simpson. That is the summary. The tale in detail +hath been brought to me to-day by an eye-witness. + +"The trial went as all thought it would. There was never the least +question of it; for not only were the two priests taken with signs of +their calling upon them, but both of them had been in the hands of the +magistrates before. There was no shrinking nor fear showed of any kind. +But the chief marvel was that these two priests met with Mr. Simpson in +the gaol; they put them together in one room, I think, hoping that Mr. +Simpson would prevail upon them to do as he had promised to do; but, by +the grace of God, it was all the other way, and it was they who +prevailed upon Mr. Simpson to confess himself again openly as a +Catholic. This greatly enraged my lord Shrewsbury and the rest; so that +there was less hope than ever of any respite, and sentence was passed +upon them all together, Mr. Simpson showing, at the reading of it, as +much courage as any. This was all done two days ago at the Assizes; and +it was to-day that the sentence was carried out. + +"They were all three drawn on hurdles together to the open space by St. +Mary's Bridge, where all was prepared, with gallows and cauldron and +butchering block; and a great company went after them. I have not heard +that they spoke much, on the way, except that a friend of Mr. Garlick's +cried out to him to remember that they had often shot off together on +the moors; to which Mr. Garlick made answer merrily that it was true; +but that 'I am now to shoot off such a shot as I never shot in all my +life.' He was merry at the trial, too, I hear; and said that 'he was not +come to seduce men, but rather to induce them to the Catholic religion, +that to this end he had come to the country, and for this that he would +work so long as he lived.' And this he did on the scaffold, speaking to +the crowd about him of the salvation of their souls, and casting papers, +which he had written in prison, in proof of the Catholic faith. + +"Mr. Garlick went up the ladder first, kissing and embracing it as the +instrument of his death, and to encourage Mr. Simpson, as it was +thought, since some said he showed signs of timorousness again when he +came to the place. But he showed none when his turn came, but rather +exhibited the same courage as them both. Mr. Ludlam stood by smiling +while all was done; and smiling still when his turn came. His last words +were, '_Venite benedicti Dei_'; and this he said, seeming to see a +vision of angels come to bear his soul away. + +"They were cut down, all three of them, before they were dead; and the +butchery done on them according to sentence; yet none of them cried out +or made the least sound; and their heads and quarters were set up +immediately afterwards on poles in divers places of Derby; some of them +above the house that stands on the bridge and others on the bridge +itself. But these, I hear, will not be there long. + +"So these three have kept the faith and finished their course with joy. +_Laus Deo_. Mr. John is in ward, for harbouring of the priests; but +nothing hath been done to him yet. + +"As for your reverence, I am of opinion that you had best wait another +week where you are. There has been a man or two seen hereabouts whom +none knew, as well as at Padley. It hath been certified, too, that Mr. +Thomas was at the root of it all, that he gave the information that Mr. +John and at least a priest or two would be at Padley at that time, +though no man knows how he knew it, unless through servants' talk; and +since Mr. Thomas knows your reverence, it will be better to be hid for a +little longer. So, if you will, in a week from now, I will send Dick +once, again to tell you if all be well. I look for no letter back for +this since you have nothing to write with in the hut, as I know; but +Dick will tell me how you do; as well as anything you may choose to say +to him. + +"I ask your reverence's blessing again. I do not forget your reverence +in my poor prayers." + + * * * * * + +And so it ended, without signature--for safety's sake. + + +IV + +Robin looked up when he had finished to where the faint outline of the +servant could be seen behind the lantern, against the greater darkness +of the wall. + +"You know of all that has fallen at Derby?" he said, with some +difficulty. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, pray God we may be willing, too, if He bids us to it." + +"Yes, sir."... + +"You had best lose no time if you are to be home before dawn. Say to +Mistress Manners that I thank her for her letter; that I praise God for +the graces she relates in it; and that I will do as she bids.... Dick." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Is Mr. Audrey in any of this?" + +"I do not know, sir.... I heard--" The man's voice hesitated. + +"What did you hear?" + +"I heard that my lord Shrewsbury wondered at his absence from the trial; +and ... and that a message would be sent to Mr. Audrey to look to it to +be more zealous on her Grace's commission." + +"That was all?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you had best be gone. There is no more to be said. Bring me what +news you can when you come again. Good-night, Dick." + +"Good-night, sir.... God bless your reverence." + + * * * * * + +An hour later, with the first coming of the dawn, the storm ceased. (It +was that same storm, if he had only known it, that had blown upon the +Spanish Fleet at sea and driven it towards destruction. But of this he +knew nothing.) He had not slept since Dick had gone, but had lain on his +back on the turfed and blanketed bed in the corner, his hands clasped +behind his head, thinking, thinking and re-thinking all that he had read +just now. He had known it must happen; but there seemed to him all the +difference in the world between an event and its mere certainty.... The +thing was done--out to every bitter detail of the loathsome, agonizing +death--and it had been two of the men whom he had seen say mass after +himself--the ruddy-faced, breezy countryman, yet anointed with the +sealing oil, and the gentle, studious, smiling man who had been no less +vigorous than his friend.... + +But there was one thing he had not known, and that, the recovery of the +faint heart which they had inspirited. And then, in an instant he +remembered how he had seen the three, years ago, against the sunset, as +he rode with Anthony.... + + * * * * * + +His mind was full of the strange memory as he came out at last, when the +black darkness began to fade to grey, and the noise of the rain on the +roof had ceased, and the wind had fallen. + +It was a view of extraordinary solemnity that he looked on, as he stood +leaning against the rough door-post. The night was still stronger than +day; overhead was as black as ever, and stars shone in it through the +dissolving clouds that were passing at last. But, immediately over the +grim, serrated edge of the crag that faced him to the east, a faint and +tender light was beginning to burn, so faint that, as yet it seemed an +absence of black rather than as of a colour itself; and in the midst of +it, like a crumb of diamond, shone a single dying star. This high land +was as still now as a sheltered valley, a tuft of springy grass stood +out on the crag as stiff as a thin plume; and the silence, as at Padley +two weeks ago, was marked rather than broken by the tinkle of water from +his spring fifty yards away. The air was cold and fresh and marvellously +scented, after the rain, with the clean smell of strong turf and rushes. +It was as different from the peace he had had at Padley as water is +different from wine; yet it was Peace, too, a confident and expectant +peace that precedes the battle, rather than the rest which follows +it.... + +How was it he had seen the three men on the moor; as he turned with +Anthony? They were against the crimson west, as against a glory, the two +laymen on either side, the young priest in the middle.... They had +seemed to bear him up and support him; the colour of the sky was as a +stain of blood; and their shadows had stretched to his own feet.... + + * * * * * + +And there came on him in that hour one of those vast experiences that +can never be told, when a flood rises in earth and air that turns them +all to wine, that wells up through tired limbs, and puzzled brain and +beating heart, and soothes and enkindles, all in one; when it is not a +mere vision of peace that draws the eyes up in an ecstasy of sight, but +a bathing in it, and an envelopment in it, of every fibre of life; when +the lungs draw deep breaths of it; and the heart beats in it, and the +eyes are enlightened by it; when the things of earth become at once +eternal and fixed and of infinite value, and at the same instant of less +value than the dust that floats in space; when there no longer appears +any distinction between the finite and the eternal, between time and +infinity; when the soul for that moment at least finds that rest that is +the magnet and the end of all human striving; and that comfort which +wipes away all tears. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +It was the sixth night after Dick Sampson had come back with news of Mr. +Alban; and he had already received instructions as to how he was to go +twenty-four hours later. He was to walk, as before, starting after dark, +not carrying a letter this time, after all, in spite of the news that he +might have taken with him; for the priest would be back before morning +and could hear it all then at his ease. + +Every possible cause of alarm had gone; and Marjorie, for the first time +for three weeks, felt very nearly as content as a year ago. Not one more +doubtful visitor had appeared anywhere; and now she thought herself +mistaken even about those solitary figures she had suspected before. +After all, they had only been a couple of men, whose faces her servants +did not know, who had gone past on the track beneath the house; one +mounted, and the other on foot. + +There had been something of a reaction, too, in Derby. The deaths of the +three priests had made an impression; there was no doubt of that. Mr. +Biddell had written her a letter on the point, saying that the blood of +those martyrs might well be the peace, if it might not be the seed, of +the Church in the district. Men openly said in the taverns, he reported, +that it was hard that any should die for religion merely; politics were +one matter and religion another. Yet the deaths had dismayed the simple +Catholics, too, for the present; and at Hathersage church, scarcely ten +miles away, above two hundred came to the Protestant sermon preached +before my lord Shrewsbury on the first Sunday after. + +The news of the Armada, too, had distracted men's minds wonderfully in +another direction. News had come in already, she was informed, of an +engagement or two in the English Channel, all in favour of its +defenders. More than that was not known. But the beacons had blazed; and +the market-place of Derby had echoed with the tramp of the train-bands; +and it was not likely that at such a time the attention of the +magistrates would be given to anything else. + +So her plans were laid. Mr. Alban was to come here for three or four +days; be provided with a complete change of clothes (all of which she +had ready); shave off his beard; and then set out again for the border. +He had best go to Staffordshire, she thought, for a month or two, before +beginning once more in his own county. + + * * * * * + +She went to bed that night, happy enough, in spite of the cause, which +she loved so much, seeming to fail everywhere. It was true that, under +this last catastrophe, great numbers had succumbed; but she hoped that +this would be but for a time. Let but a few more priests come from +Rheims to join the company that had lost so heavily, and all would be +well again. So she said to herself: she did not allow even in her own +soul that the security of her friend and the thought that he would be +with her in a day or two, had any great part in her satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +She awaked suddenly. At the moment she did not know what time it was or +how long she had slept; but it was still dark and deathly still. Yet she +could have sworn that she had heard her name called. The rushlight was +burned out; but in the summer night she could still make out the outline +of Mistress Alice's bed. Yet all was still there, except for the gentle +breathing: it could not have been she who had called out in her sleep, +or she would surely show some signs of restlessness. + +She sat up listening; but there was not a sound. She lay down again; and +the strange fancy seized her that it had been her mother's voice that +she had heard.... It was in this room that her mother had died.... Again +she sat up and looked round. All was quiet as before: the tall press at +the foot of her bed glimmered here and there with lines and points of +starlight. + +Then, as again she began to lie down, there came the signal for which +her heart was expectant, though her mind knew nothing of its coming. It +was a clear rap, as of a pebble against the glass. + +She was up and out of bed in a moment, and was peering out under the +thick arch of the little window. And a figure stood there, bending, it +seemed, for another pebble; in the very place where she had seen it, she +thought, nearly three weeks ago, standing ready to mount a horse. + +Then she was at Alice's bedside. + +"Alice," she whispered. "Alice! Wake up.... There is someone come. You +must come with me. I do not know--" Her voice faltered: she knew that +she knew, and fear clutched her by the throat. + + * * * * * + +The porter was fast asleep, and did not move, as carrying a rushlight +she went past the buttery with her friend behind her saying no word. The +bolts were well oiled, and came back with scarcely a sound. Then as the +door swung slowly back a figure slipped in. + +"Yes," he said, "it is I.... I think I am followed.... I have but +come--" + +"Come in quickly," she said, and closed and bolted the door once more. + + +II + +It was a horrible delight to sit, wrapped in her cloak with the hood +over her head, listening to his story in the hall, and to know that it +was to her house that he had come for safety. It was horrible to her +that he needed it--so horrible that every shred of interior peace had +left her; she was composed only in her speech, and it was a strange +delight that he had come so simply. He sat there; she could see his +outline and the pallor of his face under his hat, and his voice was +perfectly resolute and quiet. This was his tale. + +"Twice this afternoon," he said, "I saw a man against the sky, opposite +my hut. It was the same man both times; he was not a shepherd or a +farmer's man. The night before, when David came, he did not speak to me; +but for the first time he put his head in at the hut-door when he +brought the food and made gestures that I could not understand. I looked +at him and shook my head, but he would say nothing, and I remembered the +bond and said nothing myself. All that he would do was to shut his eyes +and wave his hands. Then this last night he brought no food at all. + +"I was uneasy at the sight of the man, too, in the afternoon. I think he +thought that I was asleep; for when I saw him for the first time I was +lying down and looking at the crag opposite. And I saw him raise himself +on his hands against the sky, as if he had been lying flat on his face +in the heather. I looked at him for a while, and then I flung my hand +out of bed suddenly, and he was gone in a whisk. I went to the door +after a time, stretching myself as if I were just awakened, and there +was no sign of him. + +"About an hour before sunset I was watching again; and I saw, on a +sudden, a covey of birds rise suddenly about two hundred yards away to +the north of the hut--that is, by the way that I should have to go down +to the valleys again. They rose as if they were frightened. I kept my +eyes on the place, and presently I saw a man's hat moving very slowly. +It was the movement of a man crawling on his hands, drawing his legs +after him. + +"Then I waited for David to come, but he did not come, and I determined +then to make my way down here as well as I could after dark. If there +were any fellows after me, I should have a better chance of escape than +if I stayed in the hut, I thought, until they could fetch up the rest; +and, if not, I could lose nothing by coming a day too soon." + +"But--" began the girl eagerly. + +"Wait," said Robin quietly. "That is not all. I made very poor way on +foot (for I thought it better to come quietly than on a horse), and I +went round about again and again in the precipitous ground so that, if +there were any after me, they could not tell which way I meant to go. +For about two hours I heard and saw nothing of any man, and I began to +think I was a fool for all my pains. So I sat down a good while and +rested, and even thought that I would go back again. But just as I was +about to get up again I heard a stone fall a great way behind me: it was +on some rocky ground about two hundred yards away. The night was quite +still, and I could hear the stone very plainly.... It was I that crawled +then, further down the hill, and it was then that I saw once more a +man's head move against the stars. + +"I went straight on then, as quietly as I could. I made sure that it was +but one that was after me, and that he would not try to take me by +himself, and I saw no more of him till I came down near Padley--" + +"Near Padley? Why--" + +"I meant to go there first," said the priest, "and lie, there till +morning. But as I came down the hill I heard the steps of him again a +great way off. So I turned sharp into a little broken ground that lies +there, and hid myself among the rocks--" + + * * * * * + +Mistress Alice lifted her hand suddenly. + +"Hark!" she whispered. + +Then as the three sat motionless, there came, distinct and clear, from a +little distance down the hill, the noise of two or three horses walking +over stony ground. + + +III + +For one deathly instant the two sat looking each into the other's white +face--since even the priest changed colour at the sound. (While they had +talked the dawn had begun to glimmer, and the windows showed grey and +ghostly on the thin morning mist.) Then they rose together. Marjorie was +the first to speak. + +"You must come upstairs at once," she said. "All is ready there, as you +know." + +The priest's lips moved without speaking. Then he said suddenly: + +"I had best be off the back way; that is, if it is what I think--" + +"The house will be surrounded." + +"But you will have harboured me--" + +Marjorie's lips opened in a smile. + +"I have done that in any case," she said. She caught up the candle and +blew it out, as she went towards the door. + +"Come quickly," she said. + +At the door Janet met them. Her old face was all distraught with fear. +She had that moment run downstairs again on hearing the noise. Marjorie +silenced her by a gesture.... + +The young carpenter had done his work excellently, and Marjorie had +taken care that there had been no neglect since the work had been done. +Yet so short was the time since the hearing of the horses' feet, that as +the girl slipped out of the press again after drawing back the secret +door, there came the loud knocking beneath, for which they had waited +with such agony. + +"Quick!" she said.... + +From within, as she waited, came the priest's whisper. "Is this to be +pushed--?" + +"Yes; yes." + +There was the sound of sliding wood and a little snap. Then she closed +the doors of the press again. + + +IV + +Mr. Audrey outside grew indignant, and the more so since he was unhappy. + + * * * * * + +He had had the message from my lord Shrewsbury that a magistrate of her +Grace should show more zeal; and, along with this, had come a private +intimation that it was suspected that Mr. Audrey had at least once +warned the recusants of an approaching attack. It would be as well, +then, if he would manifest a little activity.... + +But it appeared to him the worst luck in the world that the hunt should +lead him to Mistress Manners' door. + +It was late in the afternoon that the informer had made his appearance +at Matstead, thirsty and dishevelled, with the news that a man thought +to be a Popish priest was in hiding on the moors; that he was being kept +under observation by another informer; and that it was to be suspected +that he was the man who had been missed at Padley when my lord had taken +Garlick and Ludlam. If it were the man, it would be the priest known by +the name of Alban--the fellow whom my lord's man had so much distrusted +at Fotheringay, and whom he had seen again in Derby a while later. Next, +if it were this man, he would almost certainly make for Padley if he +were disturbed. + +Mr. Audrey had bitten his nails a while as he listened to this, and then +had suddenly consented. The plan suggested was simple enough. One little +troop should ride to Padley, gathering reinforcements on the way, and +another on foot should set out for the shepherd's hut. Then, if the +priest should be gone, this second party should come on towards Padley +immediately and join forces with the riders. + +All this had been done, and the mounted company, led by the magistrate +himself, had come up from the valley in time to see the signalling from +the heights (contrived by the showing of lights now and again), which +indicated that the priest was moving in the direction that had been +expected, and that one man at least was on his track. They had waited +there, in the valley, till the intermittent signals had reached the +level ground and ceased, and had then ridden up cautiously in time to +meet the informer's companion, and to learn that the fugitive had +doubled suddenly back towards Booth's Edge. There they had waited then, +till the dawn was imminent, and, with it, there came the party on foot, +as had been arranged; then, all together, numbering about twenty-five +men, they had pushed on in the direction of Mistress Manners' house. + +As the house came into view, more than ever Mr. Audrey reproached his +evil luck. Certainly there still were two or three chances to one that +no priest would be taken at all; since, first, the man might not be a +priest, and next, he might have passed the manor and plunged back again +into the hills. But it was not very pleasant work, this rousing of a +house inhabited by a woman for whom the magistrate had very far from +unkindly feelings, and on such an errand.... So the informers marvelled +at the venom with which Mr. Audrey occasionally whispered at them in the +dark. + +His heart sank as he caught a glimpse of a light first showing, and then +suddenly extinguished, in the windows of the hall, but he was relieved +to hear no comment on it from the men who walked by his horse; he even +hoped that they had not seen it.... But he must do his duty, he said to +himself. + + * * * * * + +He grew a little warm and impatient when no answer came to the knocking. +He said such play-acting was absurd. Why did not the man come out +courageously and deny that he was a priest? He would have a far better +excuse for letting him go. + +"Knock again," he cried. + +And again the thunder rang through the archway, and the summons in the +Queen's name to open. + +Then at last a light shone beneath the door. (It was brightening rapidly +towards the dawn here in the open air, but within it would still be +dark.) Then a voice grumbled within. + +"Who is there?" + +"Man," bellowed the magistrate, "open the door and have done with it. I +tell you I am a magistrate!" + +There was silence. Then the voice came again. + +"How do I know that you are?" + +Mr. Audrey slipped off his horse, scrambled to the door, set his hands +on his knees and his mouth to the keyhole. + +"Open the door, you fool, in the Queen's name.... I am Mr. Audrey, of +Matstead." + +Again came the pause. The magistrate was in the act of turning to bid +his men beat the door in, when once more the voice came. + +"I'll tell the mistress, sir.... She's a-bed." + + * * * * * + +His discomfort grew on him as he waited, staring out at the fast +yellowing sky. (Beneath him the slopes towards the valley and the +far-off hills on the other side appeared like a pencil drawing, +delicate, minute and colourless, or, at the most, faintly tinted in +phantoms of their own colours. The sky, too, was grey with the night +mists not yet dissolved.) It was an unneighbourly action, this of his, +he thought. He must do his best to make it as little offensive as he +could. He turned to his men. + +"Now, men," he said, glaring like a judge, "no violence here, unless I +give the order. No breaking of aught in the house. The lady here is a +friend of mine; and--" + +The great bolts shot back suddenly; he turned as the door opened; and +there, pale as milk, with eyes that seemed a-fire, Marjorie's face was +looking at him; she was wrapped in her long cloak and her hood was drawn +over her head. The space behind was crowded with faces, unrecognizable +in the shadow. + + * * * * * + +He saluted her. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I am sorry to incommode you in this way. +But a couple of fellows tell me that a man hath come this way, whom they +think to be a priest. I am a magistrate, mistress, and--" + +He stopped, confounded by her face. It was not like her face at all--the +face, rather, seemed as nothing; her whole soul was in her eyes, crying +to him some message that he could not understand. It appeared +impossible to him that this was a mere entreaty that he should leave one +more priest at liberty; impossible that the mere shock and surprise +should have changed her so.... He looked at her.... Then he began again: + +"It is no will of mine, mistress, beyond my duty. But I hold her Grace's +commission--" + +She swept back again, motioning him to enter. He was astonished at his +own discomfort, but he followed, and his men pressed close after; and he +noticed, even in that twilight, that a look of despair went over the +girl's face, sharp as pain, as she saw them. + +"You have come to search my house, sir?" she asked. Her voice was as +colourless as her features. + +"My commission, mistress, compels me--" + +Then he noticed that the doors into the hall had been pushed open, and +that she was moving towards them. And he thought he understood. + +"Stand back, men," he barked, so fiercely that they recoiled. "This lady +shall speak with me first." + + * * * * * + +He passed up the hall after her. He was as unhappy as possible. He +wondered what she could have to say to him; she must surely understand +that no pleading could turn him; he must do his duty. Yet he would +certainly do this with as little offence as he could. + +"Mistress Manners--" he began. + +Then she turned on him again. They were at the further end of the hall, +and could speak low without being overheard. + +"You must begone again," she whispered. "Oh! you must begone again. You +do not understand; you--" + +Her eyes still burned with that terrible eloquence; it was as the face +of one on the rack. + +"Mistress, I cannot begone again. I must do my duty. But I promise +you--" + +She was close to him, staring into his face; he could feel the heat of +her breath on his face. + +"You must begone at once," she whispered, still in that voice of agony. +He saw her begin to sway on her feet and her eyes turn glassy. He caught +her as she swayed. + +"Here! you women!" he cried. + + * * * * * + +It was all that he could do to force himself out through the crowd of +folks that looked on him. It was not that they barred his way. Rather +they shrank from him; yet their eyes pulled and impeded him; it was by a +separate effort that he put each foot before the other. Behind he could +hear the long moan that she had given die into silence, and the +chattering whispers of her women who held her. He reassured himself +savagely; he would take care that no one was taken ... she would thank +him presently; he would but set guards at all the doors and make a +cursory search; he would break a panel or two; no more. And that would +save both his face and her own.... Yet he loathed even such work as +this.... + +He turned abruptly as he came into the buttery passage. + +"All the women in the hall," he said sharply. "Jack, keep the door fast +till we are done." + + +V + +He took particular pains to do as little damage as possible. + +First he went through the out-houses, himself with a pike testing the +haystacks, where he was sure that no man could be hidden. The beasts +turned slow and ruminating eyes upon him as he went by their stalls. + +As he passed, a little later, the inner door into the buttery passage, +he could hear the beating of hands on the hall-door. He went on quickly +to the kitchen, hating himself, yet determined to get all done quickly, +and drove the kitchen-maid, who was crouching by the unlighted fire, out +behind him, sending a man with her to bestow her in the hall. She wailed +as she went by him, but it was unintelligible, and he was in no mood for +listening. + +"Take her in," he said; "but let no one out, nor a message, till all is +done." (He thought that the kinder course.) + +Then at last he went upstairs, still with his little bodyguard of four, +of whom one was the man who had followed the fugitive down from the +hills. + +He began with the little rooms over the hall: a bedstead stood in one; +in another was a table all piled with linen a third had its floor +covered with early autumn fruit, ready for preserving. He struck on a +panel or two as he went, for form's sake. + +As he came out again he turned savagely on the informer. + +"It is damned nonsense," he said; "the fellow's not here at all. I told +you he'd have gone back to the hills." + +The man looked up at him with a furtive kind of sneer in his face; he, +too, was angry enough; the loss of the priest meant the loss of the +heavy reward. + +"We have not searched a room rightly yet, sir," he snarled. "There are a +hundred places--" + +"Not searched! You villain! Why, what would you have?" + +"It's not the manner I've done it before, sir. A pike-thrust here, and a +blow there--" + +"I tell you I will not have the house injured! Mistress Manners--" + +"Very good, sir. Your honour is the magistrate.... I am not." + +The old man's temper boiled over. They were passing at that instant a +half-open door, and within he could see a bare little parlour, with +linen presses against the walls. It would not hide a cat. + +"Do you search, then!" he cried. "Here, then, and I will watch you! But +you shall pay for any wanton damage, I tell you." + +The man shrugged his shoulders. + +"What is the use, then--" he began. + +"Bah! search, then, as you will. I will pay." + + * * * * * + +The noise from the hall had ceased altogether as the four men went into +the parlour. It was a plain little room, with an open fireplace and a +great settle beside it. There were hangings here and there. That over +the hearth presented Icarus in the chariot of the sun. It seemed such a +place as that in which two lovers might sit and talk together at +sunset.... In one place hung a dark oil painting. + +The old man went across to the window and stared out. + +The sun was up by now, far away out of sight; and the whole sunlit +valley lay stretched beneath beyond the slopes that led down to Padley. +The loathing for his work rose up again and choked him--this desperate +bullying of a few women; and all to no purpose. He stared out at the +horses beneath, and at the couple of men gossiping together at their +heads.... He determined to see Mistress Manners again alone presently, +when she should be recovered, and have a word with her in private. She +would forgive him, perhaps, when she saw him ride off empty-handed, as +he most certainly meant to do. + +He thought, too, of other things, this old man, as he stood, with his +shoulders squared, resolute in his lack of attention to the mean work +going on behind him.... He wondered whether God were angry or no. +Whether this kind of duty were according to His will. Down there was +Padley, where he had heard mass in the old days; Padley, where the two +priests had been taken a few weeks ago. He wondered-- + +"If it please your honour we will break in this panel," came the smooth, +sneering voice that he loathed. + +He turned sullenly. + +They were opposite the old picture. Beneath it there showed a crack in +the wainscoting.... He could scarcely refuse leave. Besides, the +woodwork was flawed in any case--he would pay for a new panel himself. + +"There is nothing there!" he said doubtfully. + +"Oh, no, sir," said the man with a peculiar look. "It is but to make a +show--" + +The old man's brows came down angrily. Then he nodded; and, leaning +against the window, watched them. + + * * * * * + +One of his own men came forward with a hammer and chisel. He placed the +chisel at the edge of the cracked panel, where the informer directed, +and struck a blow or two. There was the unmistakable dull sound of wood +against stone--not an echo of resonance. The old man smiled grimly to +himself. The man must be a fool if he thought there could be any hole +there!... Well; he would let them do what they would here; and then +forbid any further damage.... He wondered if the priest really were in +the house or no. + +The two men had their heads together now, eyeing the crack they had +made.... Then the informer said something in a low voice that the old +man could not hear; and the other, handing him the chisel and hammer, +went out of the room, beckoning to one of the two others that stood +waiting at the door. + +"Well?" sneered the old man. "Have you caught your bird? + +"Not yet, sir." + +He could hear the steps of the others in the next room; and then +silence. + +"What are they doing there?" he asked suddenly. + +"Nothing, sir.... I just bade a man wait on that side." + +The man was once more inserting the chisel in the top of the +wainscoting; then he presently began to drive it down with the hammer as +if to detach it from the wall. + +Suddenly he stopped; and at the same instant the old man heard some +faint, muffled noise, as of footsteps moving either in the wall or +beyond it. + +"What is that?" + +The man said nothing; he appeared to be listening. + +"What is that?" demanded the other again, with a strange uneasiness at +his heart. Was it possible, after all! Then the man dropped his chisel +and hammer and darted out and vanished. A sudden noise of voices and +tramplings broke out somewhere out of sight. + +"God's blood!" roared the old man in anger and dismay. "I believe they +have the poor devil!" + + * * * * * + +He ran out, two steps down the passage and in again at the door of the +next room. It was a bedroom, with two beds side by side: a great press +with open doors stood between the hearth and the window; and, in the +midst of the floor, five men struggled and swayed together. The fifth +was a bearded young man, well dressed; but he could not see his face. + +Then they had him tight; his hands were twisted behind his back; an arm +was flung round his neck; and another man, crouching, had his legs +embraced. He cried out once or twice.... The old man turned sick ... a +great rush of blood seemed to be hammering in his ears and dilating his +eyes.... He ran forward, tearing at the arm that was choking the +prisoner's throat, and screaming he knew not what. + +And it was then that he knew for certain that this was his son. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +Robin drew a long breath as the door closed behind him. Then he went +forward to the table, and sat on it, swinging his feet, and looking +carefully and curiously round the room, so far as the darkness would +allow him; his eyes had had scarcely time yet to become accustomed to +the change from the brilliant sunshine outside to the gloom of the +prison. It was his first experience of prison, and, for the present, he +was more interested than subdued by it. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to him that a lifetime had passed since the early morning, up +in the hills, when he had attempted to escape by the bedroom, and had +been seized as he came out of the press. Of course, he had fought; it +was his right and his duty; and he had not known the utter uselessness +of it, in that guarded house. He had known nothing of what was going +forward. He had heard the entrance of the searchers below, and now and +again their footsteps.... Then he had seen the wainscoting begin to gape +before him, and had understood that his only chance was by the way he +had entered. Then, as he had caught sight of his father, he had ceased +his struggles. + +He had not said one word to him. The shock was complete and unexpected. +He had seen the old man stagger back and sink on the bed. Then he had +been hurried from the room and downstairs. As the party came into the +buttery entrance, there had been a great clamour; the man on guard at +the hall doors had run forward; the doors had opened suddenly and +Marjorie had come out, with a surge of faces behind her. But to her, +too, he had said nothing; he had tried to smile; he was still faint and +sick from the fight upstairs. But he had been pushed out into the air, +where he saw the horses waiting, and round the corner of the house into +an out-building, and there he had had time to recover. + + * * * * * + +It was strange how little religion had come to his aid during that hour +of waiting; and, indeed, during the long and weary ride to Derby. He had +tried to pray; but he had had no consolation, such as he supposed must +surely come to all who suffered for Christ. It had been, instead, the +tiny things that absorbed his attention; the bundle of hay in the +corner; an ancient pitch-fork; the heads of his guards outside the +little barred window; the sound of their voices talking. Later, when a +man had come out from the house, and looked in at his door, telling him +that they must start in ten minutes, and giving him a hunch of bread to +eat, it had been the way the man's eyebrows grew over his nose, and the +creases of his felt hat, to which he gave his mind. Somewhere, far +beneath in himself, he knew that there were other considerations and +memories and movements, that were even fears and hopes and desires; but +he could not come at these; he was as a man struggling to dive, held up +on the surface by sheets of cork. He knew that his father was in that +house; that it was his father who had been the means of taking him; that +Marjorie was there--yet these facts were as tales read in a book. So, +too, with his faith; his lips repeated words now and then; but God was +as far from him and as inconceivably unreal, as is the thought of +sunshine and a garden to a miner freezing painlessly in the dark.... + +In the same state he was led out again presently, and set on a horse. +And while a man attached one foot to the other by a cord beneath the +horse's belly, he looked like a child at the arched doorway of the +house; at a patch of lichen that was beginning to spread above the +lintel; at the open window of the room above. + +He vaguely desired to speak with Marjorie again; he even asked the man +who was tying his feet whether he might do so; but he got no answer. A +group of men watched him from the door, and he noticed that they were +silent. He wondered if it were the tying of his feet in which they were +so much absorbed. + + * * * * * + +Little by little, as they rode, this oppression began to lift. Half a +dozen times he determined to speak with the man who rode beside him and +held his horse by a leading rein; and each time he did not speak. +Neither did any man speak to him. Another man rode behind; and a dozen +or so went on foot. He could hear them talking together in low voices. + +He was finally roused by his companion's speaking. He had noticed the +man look at him now and again strangely and not unkindly. + +"Is it true that you are a son of Mr. Audrey, sir?" + +He was on the point of saying "Yes," when his mind seemed to come back +to him as clear as an awakening from sleep. He understood that he must +not identify himself if he could help it. He had been told at Rheims +that silence was best in such matters. + +"Mr. Audrey?" he said. "The magistrate?" + +The man nodded. He did not seem an unkindly personage at all. Then he +smiled. + +"Well, well," he said. "Less said--" + +He broke off and began to whistle. Then he interrupted himself once +more. + +"He was still in his fit," he said, "when we came away. Mistress Manners +was with him." + +Intelligence was flowing back in Robin's brain like a tide. It seemed to +him that he perceived things with an extraordinary clearness and +rapidity. He understood he must show no dismay or horror of any kind; he +must carry himself easily and detachedly. + +"In a fit, was he?" + +The other nodded. + +"I am arrested on his warrant, then? And on what charge?" + +The man laughed outright. + +"That's too good," he said. "Why, we, have a bundle of popery on the +horse behind! It was all in the hiding-hole!" + +"I am supposed to be a priest, then?" said Robin, with admirable +disdain. + +Again the man laughed. + +"They will have some trouble in proving that," said Robin viciously. + + * * * * * + +He learned presently whither they were going. He was right in thinking +it to be Derby. There he was to be handed over to the gaoler. The trial +would probably come on at the Michaelmas assizes, five or six weeks +hence. He would have leave to communicate with a lawyer when he was once +safely bestowed there; but whether or no his lawyer or any other +visitors would be admitted to him was a matter for the magistrates. + +They ate as they rode, and reached Derby in the afternoon. + +At the very outskirts the peculiar nature of this cavalcade was +observed; and by the time that they came within sight of the +market-square a considerable mob was hustling along on all sides. There +were a few cries raised. Robin could not distinguish the words, but it +seemed to him as if some were raised for him as well as against him. He +kept his head somewhat down; he thought it better to risk no +complications that might arise should he be recognised. + +As they drew nearer the market-place the progress became yet slower, for +the crowd seemed suddenly and abnormally swelled. There was a great +shouting of voices, too, in front, and the smell of burning came +distinctly on the breeze. The man riding beside Robin turned his head +and called out; and in answer one of the others riding behind pushed his +horse up level with the other two, so that the prisoner had a guard on +either side. A few steps further, and another order was issued, followed +by the pressing up of the men that went on foot so as to form a complete +square about the three riders. + +Robin put a question, but the men gave him no answer. He could see that +they were preoccupied and anxious. Then, as step by step they made their +way forward and gained the corner of the market-place, he saw the reason +of these precautions; for the whole square was one pack of heads, except +where, somewhere in the midst, a great bonfire blazed in the sunlight. +The noise, too, was deafening; drums were beating, horns blowing, men +shouting aloud. From window after window leaned heads, and, as the party +advanced yet further, they came suddenly in view of a scaffold hung with +gay carpets and ribbons, on which a civil dignitary, in some official +dress, was gesticulating. + +It was useless to ask a question; not a word could have been heard +unless it were shouted aloud; and presently the din redoubled, for out +of sight, round some corner, guns were suddenly shot off one after +another; and the cheering grew shrill and piercing in contrast. + +As they came out at last, without attracting any great attention, into +the more open space at the entrance of Friar's Gate, Robin turned again +and asked what the matter was. It was plainly not himself, as he had at +first almost believed. + +The man turned an exultant face to him. + +"It's the Spanish fleet!" he said. "There's not a ship of it left, they +say." + +When they halted at the gate of the prison there was another pause, +while the cord that tied his feet was cut, and he was helped from his +horse, as he was stiff and constrained from the long ride under such +circumstances. He heard a roar of interest and abuse, and, perhaps, a +little sympathy, from the part of the crowd that had followed, as the +gate close behind him. + + +II + +As his eyes became better accustomed to the dark, he began to see what +kind of a place it was in which he found himself. It was a square little +room on the ground-floor, with a single, heavily-barred window, against +which the dirt had collected in such quantities as to exclude almost all +light. The floor was beaten earth, damp and uneven; the walls were built +of stones and timber, and were dripping with moisture; there was a table +and a stool in the centre of the room, and a dark heap in the corner. He +examined this presently, and found it to be rotting hay covered with +some kind of rug. The whole place smelled hideously foul. + +From far away outside came still the noise of cheering, heard as through +wool, and the sharp reports of the cannon they were still firing. The +Armada seemed very remote from him, here in ward. Its destruction +affected him now hardly at all, except for the worse, since an +anti-Catholic reaction might very well follow.... He set himself, with +scarcely an effort, to contemplate more personal matters. + +He was astonished that his purse had not been taken from him. He had +been searched rapidly just now, in an outer passage, by a couple of men, +one of whom he understood to be his gaoler; and a knife and a chain and +his rosary had been taken from him. But the purse had been put back +again.... He remembered presently that the possession of money made a +considerable difference to a prisoner's comfort; but he determined to do +as little as he was obliged in this way. He might need the money more +urgently by and by. + + * * * * * + +By the time that he had gone carefully round his prison-walls, even +reaching up to the window and testing the bars, pushing as noiselessly +as he could against the door, pacing the distances in every +direction--he had, at the same time, once more arranged and rehearsed +every piece of evidence that he possessed, and formed a number of +resolutions. + +He was perfectly clear by now that his father had been wholly ignorant +of the identity of the man he was after. The horror in the gasping face +that he had seen so close to his own, above the strangling arm, set that +beyond a doubt; the news of the fit into which his father had fallen +confirmed it. + +Next, he had been right in believing himself watched in the shepherd's +hut, and followed down from it. This hiding of his in the hills, the +discovery of him in the hiding-hole, together with the vestments--these +two things were the heaviest pieces of testimony against him. More +remote testimony might be brought forward from his earlier +adventures--his presence at Fotheringay, his recognition by my lord's +man. But these were, in themselves, indifferent. + +His resolutions were few and simple. + +He would behave himself quietly in all ways: he would make no demand to +see anyone; since he knew that whatever was possible would be done for +him by Marjorie. He would deny nothing and assert very little if he were +brought before the magistrates. Finally, he would say, if he could, a +dry mass every day; and observe the hours of prayer so far as he could. +He had no books with him of any kind. But he could pray God for +fortitude. + + * * * * * + +Then he knelt down on the earth floor and said his first prayer in +prison; the prayer that had rung so often in his mind since Mary herself +had prayed it aloud on the scaffold; and Mr. Bourgoign had repeated it +to him. + +"As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended on the Cross; even so receive me +into the arms of Thy mercy, and blot out all my sins with Thy most +precious Blood." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +There was a vast crowd in the market-place at Michaelmas to see the +judges come--partly because there was always excitement at the visible +majesty of the law; partly because the tale of one at least of the +prisoners had roused interest. It was a dramatic tale: he was first a +seminary priest and a Derbyshire man (many remembered him riding as a +little lad beside his father); he was, next, a runaway to Rheims for +religion's sake, when his father conformed; third, he had been taken in +the house of Mistress Manners, to whom, report said, he had once been +betrothed; last, he had been taken by his father himself. All this +furnished matter for a quantity of conversation in the taverns; and it +was freely discussed by the sentimental whether or no, if the priest +yielded and conformed, he would yet find Mistress Manners willing to wed +him. + + * * * * * + +Signs of the Armada rejoicings still survived in the market-place as the +judges rode in. Streamers hung in the sunshine, rather bedraggled after +so long, from the roof and pillars of the Guildhall, and a great +smoke-blackened patch between the conduit and the cross marked where the +ox had been roasted. There was a deal of loyal cheering as the +procession went by; for these splendid personages on horseback stood to +the mob for the power that had repelled the enemies of England; and her +Grace's name was received with enthusiasm. Behind the judges and their +escort came a cavalcade of riders--gentlemen, grooms, servants, and +agents of all sorts. But not a Derby man noticed or recognised a thin +gentleman who rode modestly in the midst, with a couple of personal +servants on either side of him. It was not until the visitors had +separated to the various houses and inns where they were to be lodged, +and the mob was dispersing home again, that it began to be rumoured +everywhere that Mr. Topcliffe was come again to Derby on a special +mission. + + +II + +The tidings came to Marjorie as she leaned back in her chair in Mr. +Biddell's parlour and listened to the last shoutings. + + * * * * * + +She had been in town now three days. + +Ever since the capture she had been under guard in her own house till +three days ago. Four men had been billeted upon her, not, indeed, by the +orders of Mr. Audrey, since Mr. Audrey was in no condition to control +affairs any longer, but by the direction of Mr. Columbell, who had +himself ridden out to take charge at Booth's Edge, when the news of the +arrest had come, with the prisoner himself, to the city. It was he, too, +who had seen to the removal of Mr. Audrey a week later, when he had +recovered from the weakness caused by the fit sufficiently to travel as +far as Derby; for it was thought better that the magistrate who had +effected the capture should be accessible to the examining magistrates. +It was, of course, lamentable, said Mr. Columbell, that father and son +should have been brought into such relations, and he would do all that +he could to relieve Mr. Audrey from any painful task in which they could +do without him. But her Grace's business must be done, and he had had +special messages from my lord Shrewsbury himself that the prisoner must +be dealt with sternly. It was believed, wrote my lord, that Mr. Alban, +as he called himself, had a good deal more against him than the mere +fact of being a seminary priest: it was thought that he had been +involved in the Babington plot, and had at least once had access to the +Queen of the Scots since the fortunate failure of the conspiracy. + +All this, then, Marjorie knew from Mr. Biddell, who seemed always to +know everything; but it was not until the evening on which the judges +arrived that she learned the last and extreme measures that would +be taken to establish these suspicions. She had ridden openly to Derby so +soon as the news came from there that for the present she might be set +at liberty. + +The lawyer came into the darkening room as the square outside began to +grow quiet, and Marjorie opened her eyes to see who it was. + +He said nothing at first, but sat down close beside her. He knew she +must be told, but he hated the telling. He carried a little paper in his +hand. He would begin with that little bit of good news first, he said to +himself. + +"Well, mistress," he said, "I have the order at last. We are to see him +to-night. It is 'for Mr. Biddell and a friend.'" + +She sat up, and a little vitality came back to her face; for a moment +she almost looked as she had looked in the early summer. + +"To-night?" she said. "And when--" + +"He will not be brought before my lords for three or four days yet. +There is a number of cases to come before his. It will give us those two +or three days, at least, to prepare our case." + +He spoke heavily and dejectedly. Up to the present he had been utterly +refused permission to see his client; and though he knew the outlines of +the affair well enough, he knew very little of the thousand details on +which the priest would ask his advice. It was a hopeless affair, it +appeared to the lawyer, in any case. And now, with this last piece of +tidings, he knew that there was, indeed, nothing to be said except words +of encouragement. + +He listened with the same heavy air to Mistress Manners as she said a +word or two as to what must be spoken of to Robin. She was very quiet +and collected, and talked to the point. But he said nothing. + +"What is the matter, sir?" she said. + +He lifted his eyes to hers. There was still enough light from the +windows for him to see her eyes, and that there was a spark in them that +had not been there just now. And it was for him to extinguish it.... He +gripped his courage. + +"I have had worse news than all," he said. + +Her lips moved, and a vibration went over her face. Her eyes blinked, as +at a sudden light. + +"Yes?" + +He put his hand tenderly on her arm. + +"You must be courageous," he said. "It is the worst news that ever came +to me. It concerns one who is come from London to-day, and rode in with +my lords." + +She could not speak, but her great eyes entreated him to finish her +misery. + +"Yes," he said, still pressing his hand on to her arm. "Yes; it is Mr. +Topcliffe who is come." + + * * * * * + +He felt the soft muscles harden like steel.... There was no sound except +the voices talking in the square and the noise of footsteps across the +pavements. He could not look at her. + +Then he heard her draw a long breath and breathe it out again, and her +taut muscles relaxed. + +"We ... we are all in Christ's hands," she said.... "We must tell him." + + +III + +It appeared to the girl as if she were moving on a kind of set stage, +with every movement and incident designed beforehand, in a play that was +itself a kind of destiny--above all, when she went at last into Robin's +cell and saw him standing there, and found it to be that in which so +long ago she had talked with Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert.... + +The great realities were closing round her, as irresistible as wheels +and bars. There was scarcely a period in her life, scarcely a voluntary +action of hers for good or evil, that did not furnish some part of this +vast machine in whose grip both she and her friend were held so fast. No +calculation on her part could have contrived so complete a climax; yet +hardly a calculation that had not gone astray from that end to which she +had designed it. It was as if some monstrous and ironical power had been +beneath and about her all her life long, using those thoughts and +actions that she had intended in one way to the development of another. + +First, it was she that had first turned her friend's mind to the life of +a priest. Had she submitted to natural causes, she would have been his +wife nine years ago; they would have been harassed no doubt and +troubled, but no more. It was she again that had encouraged his return +to Derbyshire. If it had not been for that, and for the efforts she had +made to do what she thought good work for God, he might have been sent +elsewhere. It was in her house that he had been taken, and in the very +place she had designed for his safety. If she had but sent him on, as he +wished, back to the hills again, he might never have been taken at all. +These, and a score of other thoughts, had raced continually through her +mind; she felt even as if she were responsible for the manner of his +taking, and for the horror that it had been his father who had +accomplished it; if she had said more, or less, in the hall of that dark +morning; if she had not swooned; if she had said bravely: "It is your +son, sir, who is here," all might have been saved. And now it was +Topcliffe who was come--(and she knew all that this signified)--the very +man at whose mere bodily presence she had sickened in the court of the +Tower. And, last, it was she who had to tell Robin of this. + +So tremendous, however, had been the weight of these thoughts upon her, +crowned and clinched (so to say) by finding that the priest was even in +the same cell as that in which she had visited the traitor, that there +was no room any more for bitterness. Even as she waited, with Mr. +Biddell behind her, as the gaoler fumbled with the keys, she was aware +that the last breath of resentment had been drawn.... It was, indeed, a +monstrous Power that had so dealt with her.... It was none other than +the Will of God, plain at last. + + * * * * * + +She knelt down for the priest's blessing, without speaking, as the door +closed, and Mr. Biddell knelt behind her. Then she rose and went forward +to the stool and sat upon it. + + * * * * * + +He was hardly changed at all. He looked a little white and drawn in the +wavering light of the flambeau; but his clothes were orderly and clean, +and his eyes as bright and resolute as ever. + +"It is a great happiness to see you," he said, smiling, and then no more +compliments. + +"And what of my father?" he added instantly. + +She told him. Mr. Audrey was in Derby, still sick from his fit. He was +in Mr. Columbell's house. She had not seen him. + +"Robin," she said (and she used the old name, utterly unknowing that she +did so), "we must speak with Mr. Biddell presently about your case. But +there is a word or two I have to say first. We can have two hours here, +if you wish it." + +Robin put his hands behind him on to the table and jumped lightly, so +that he sat on it, facing her. + +"If you will not sit on the table, Mr. Biddell, I fear there is only +that block of wood." + +He pointed to a, block of a tree set on end. It served him, laid flat, +as a pillow. The lawyer went across to it. + +"The judges, I hear, are come to-night," said the priest. + +She bowed. + +"Yes; but your case will not be up for three or four days yet." + +"Why, then, I shall have time--" + +She lifted her hand sharply a little to check him. + +"You will not have much time," she said, and paused again. A sharp +contraction came and went in the muscles of her throat. It was as if a +band gripped her there, relaxed, and gripped again. She put up her own +hand desperately to tear at her collar. + +"Why, but--" began the priest. + +She could bear it no more. His resolute cheerfulness, his frank +astonishment, were like knives to her. She gave one cry. + +"Topcliffe is come ... Topcliffe!..." she cried. Then she flung her arm +across the table and dropped her face on it. No tears came from her +eyes, but tearing sobs shook and tormented her. + +It was quite quiet after she had spoken. Even in her anguish she knew +that. The priest did not stir from where he sat a couple of feet away; +only the swinging of his feet ceased. She drove down her convulsions; +they rose again; she drove them down once more. Then the tears surged +up, her whole being relaxed, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. + +"Marjorie," said the grave voice, as steady as it had ever been, +"Marjorie. This is what we looked for, is it not?... Topcliffe is come, +is he? Well, let him come. He or another. It is for this that we have +all looked since the beginning. Christ His Grace is strong enough, is it +not? It hath been strong enough for many, at least; and He will not +surely take it from me who need it so much...." (He spoke in pauses, but +his voice never faltered.) "I have prayed for that grace ever since I +have been here.... He hath given me great peace in this place.... I +think He will give it me to the end.... You must pray, my ... my child; +you must not cry like that." + +(She lifted her agonized face for a moment, then she let it fall again. +It seemed as if he knew the very thoughts of her.) + +"This all seems very perfect to me," he went on. "It was yourself who +first turned me to this life, and you knew surely what you did. I knew, +at least, all the while, I think; and I have never ceased to thank God. +And it was through your hands that the letter came to me to go to +Fotheringay. And it was in your house that I was taken.... And it was +Mr. Maine's beads that they found on me when they searched me here--the +pair of beads you gave me." + +Again she stared at him, blind and bewildered. + +He went on steadily: + +"And now it is you again who bring me the first news of my passion. It +is yourself, first and last, under God, that have brought me all these +graces and crosses. And I thank you with all my heart.... But you must +pray for me to the end, and after it, too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +"Water," said a sharp voice, pricking through the enormous thickness of +the bloodshot dark that had come down on him. There followed a sound of +floods; then a sense of sudden coolness, and he opened his eyes once +more, and became aware of unbearable pain in arms and feet. Again the +whirling dark, striped with blood colour, fell on him like a blanket; +again the sound of waters falling and the sense of coolness, and again +he opened his eyes. + + * * * * * + +For a minute or two it was all that he could do to hold himself in +consciousness. It appeared to him a necessity to do so. He could see a +smoke-stained roof of beams and rafters, and on these he fixed his eyes, +thinking that he could hold himself so, as by thin, wiry threads of +sight, from falling again into the pit where all was black or +blood-colour. The pain was appalling, but he thought he had gripped it +at last, and could hold it so, like a wrestler. + +As the pain began to resolve itself into throbs and stabs, from the +continuous strain in which at first it had shown itself--a strain that +was like a shrill horn blowing, or a blaze of bluish light--he began to +see more, and to understand a little. There were four or five faces +looking down on him: one was the face of a man he had seen somewhere in +an inn ... it was at Fotheringay; it was my lord Shrewsbury's man. +Another was a lean face; a black hat came and went behind it; the lips +were drawn in a sort of smile, so that he could see the teeth.... Then +he perceived next that he himself was lying in a kind of shallow trough +of wood upon the floor. He could see his bare feet raised a little and +tied with cords. + +Then, one by one, these sights fitted themselves into one another and +made sense. He remembered that he was in Derby gaol--not in his own +cell; that the lean face was of a man called Topcliffe; that a physician +was there as well as the others; that they had been questioning him on +various points, and that some of these points he had answered, while +others he had not, and must not. Some of them concerned her Grace of the +Scots.... These he had answered. Then, again, association came back.... + +"As Thy arms, O Christ ..." he whispered. + +"Now then," came the sharp voice in his ear, so close and harsh as to +distress him. "These questions again.... Were there any other places +besides at Padley and Booth's Edge, in the parish of Hathersage, where +you said mass?" + +"... O Christ, were extended on the Cross--" began the tortured man +dreamily. "Ah-h-h!".... + +It was a scream, whispered rather than shrieked, that was torn from him +by the sharpness of the agony. His body had lifted from the floor +without will of his own, twisting a little; and what seemed as strings +of fiery pain had shot upwards from his feet and downwards from his +wrists as the roller was suddenly jerked again. He hung there perhaps +ten or fifteen seconds, conscious only of the blinding pain--questions, +questioners, roof and faces all gone and drowned again in a whirling +tumult of darkness and red streaks. The sweat poured again suddenly from +his whole body.... Then again he sank relaxed upon the floor, and the +pulses beat in his head, and he thought that Marjorie and her mother and +his own father were all looking at him.... + +He heard presently the same voice talking: + +"--and answer the questions that are put to you.... Now then, we will +begin the others, if it please you better.... In what month was it that +you first became privy to the plot against her Grace?" + +"Wait!" whispered the priest. "Wait, and I will answer that." (He +understood that there was a trap here. The question had been framed +differently last time. But his mind was all a-whirl; and he feared he +might answer wrongly if he could not collect himself. He still wondered +why so many friends of his were in the room--even Father Campion....) + +He drew a breath again presently, and tried to speak; but his voice +broke like a shattered trumpet, and he could not command it.... He must +whisper. + +"It was in August, I think.... I think it was August, two years ago."... + +"August ... you mean May or April." + +"No; it was August.... At least, all that I know of the plot was when +... when--" (His thoughts became confused again; it was like strings of +wool, he thought, twisted violently together; a strand snapped now and +again. He made a violent effort and caught an end as it was slipping +away.) "It was in August, I think; the day that Mr. Babington fled, that +he wrote to me; and sent me--" (He paused: he became aware that here, +too, lurked a trap if he were to say he had seen Mary; he would surely +be asked what he had seen her for, and his priesthood might be so proved +against him.... He could not remember whether that had been proved; and +so ... would Father Campion advise him perhaps whether....) + +The voice jarred again; and startled him into a flash of coherence. He +thought he saw a way out. + +"Well?" snapped the voice. "Sent you?... Sent you whither?" + +"Sent me to Chartley; where I saw her Grace ... her Grace of the Scots; +and ... 'As Thy arms, O Christ....'" + +"Now then; now then--! So your saw her Grace? And what was that for?" + +"I saw her Grace ... and ... and told her what Mr. Babington had told +me." + +"What was that, then?" + +"That ... that he was her servant till death; and ... and a thousand if +he had them. And so, 'As Thy arms, O--'" + +"Water," barked the voice. + +Again came the rush as of cataracts; and a sensation of drowning. There +followed an instant's glow of life; and then the intolerable pain came +back; and the heavy, red-streaked darkness.... + + +II + +He found himself, after some period, lying more easily. He could not +move hand or foot. His body only appeared to live. From his shoulders to +his thighs he was alive; the rest was nothing. But he opened his eyes +and saw that his arms were laid by his side; and that he was no longer +in the wooden trough. He wondered at his hands; he wondered even if they +were his ... they were of an unusual colour and bigness; and there was +something like a tight-fitting bracelet round each wrist. Then he +perceived that he was shirtless and hoseless; and that the bracelets +were not bracelets, but rings of swollen flesh. But there was no longer +any pain or even sensation in them; and he was aware that his mouth +glowed as if he had drunk ardent spirits. + +He was considering all this, slowly, like a child contemplating a new +toy. Then there came something between him and the light; he saw a +couple of faces eyeing him. Then the voice began again, at first +confused and buzzing, then articulate; and he remembered. + +"Now, then," said the voice, "you have had but a taste of it...." ("A +taste of it; a taste of it." The phrase repeated itself like the catch +of a song.... When he regained his attention, the sentence had moved +on.) + +"... these questions. I will put them to you again from the beginning. +You will give your answer to each. And if my lord is not satisfied, we +must try again." + +"My lord!" thought the priest. He rolled his eyes round a little +further. (He dared not move his head; the sinews of his throat burned +like red-hot steel cords at the thought of it.) And he saw a little +table floating somewhere in the dark; a candle burned on it; and a +melancholy face with dreamy eyes was brightly illuminated.... That was +my lord Shrewsbury, he considered.... + +"... in what month that you first became privy to the plot against her +Grace?" + +(Sense was coming back to him again now. He remembered what he had said +just now.) + +"It was in August," he whispered, "in August, I think; two years ago. +Mr. Babington wrote to me of it." + +"And you went to the Queen of the Scots, you say?" + +"Yes." + +"And what did you there?" + +"I gave the message." + +"What was that?" + +"... That Mr. Babington was her servant always; that he regretted +nothing, save that he had failed. He begged her to pray for his soul, +and for all that had been with him in the enterprise." + +(It appeared to him that he was astonishingly voluble, all at once. He +reflected that he must be careful.) + +"And what did she say to that?" + +"She declared herself guiltless of the plot ... that she knew nothing of +it; and that--" + +"Now then; now then. You expect my lord to believe that?" + +"I do not know.... But it was what was said." + +"And you profess that you knew nothing of the plot till then?" + +"I knew nothing of it till then," whispered the priest steadily. "But--" + +(A face suddenly blotted out more of the light.) + +"Yes?" + +"Anthony--I mean Mr. Babington--had spoken to me a great while +before--in ... in some village inn.... I forget where. It was when I was +a lad. He asked whether I would join in some enterprise. He did not say +what it was.... But I thought it to be against the Queen of England.... +And I would not."... + +He closed his eyes again. There had begun a slow heat of pain in ankles +and wrists, not wholly unbearable, and a warmth began to spread in his +body. A great shudder or two shook him. The voice said something he +could not hear. Then a metal rim was pressed to his mouth; and a stream +of something at once icy and fiery ran into his mouth and out at the +corners. He swallowed once or twice; and his senses came back. + +"You do not expect us to believe all that!" came the voice. + +"It is the truth, for all that," murmured the priest. + +The next question came sudden as a shot fired: + +"You were at Fotheringay?" + +"Yes." + +"In what house?" + +"I was in the inn--the 'New Inn,' I think it is. + +"And you spoke with her Grace again?" + +"No; I could not get at her. But--" + +"Well?" + +"I was in the court of the castle when her Grace was executed." + +There was a murmur of voices. He thought that someone had moved over to +the table where my lord sat; but he could not move his eyes again, the +labour was too great. + +"Who was with you in the inn--as your friend, I mean?" + +"A ... a young man was with me. His name was Merton. He is in France, I +think." + +"And he knew you to be a priest?" came the voice without an instant's +hesitation. + +"Why--" Then he stopped short, just in time. + +"Well?" + +"How should he think that?" asked Robin. + +There was a laugh somewhere. Then the voice went on, almost +good-humouredly. + +"Mr. Alban; what is the use of this fencing? You were taken in a +hiding-hole with the very vestments at your feet. We _know_ you to be a +priest. We are not seeking to entrap you in that, for there is no need. +But there are other matters altogether which we must have from you. You +have been made priest beyond the seas, in Rheims--" + +"I swear to you that I was not," whispered Robin instantly and eagerly, +thinking he saw a loophole. + +"Well, then, at Châlons, or Douay: it matters not where. That is not our +affair to-day. All that will be dealt with before my lords at the +Assizes. But what we must have from you now is your answer to some other +questions." + +"Assuming me to be a priest?" + +"Mr. Alban, I will talk no more on that point. I tell you we know it. +But we must have answers on other points. I will come back to Merton +presently. These are the questions. I will read them through to you. +Then we will deal with them one by one." + +There was the rustle of a paper. An extraordinary desire for sleep came +down on the priest; it was only by twitching his head a little, and +causing himself acute shoots of pain in his neck that he could keep +himself awake. He knew that he must not let his attention wander again. +He remembered clearly how that Father Campion was dead, and that +Marjorie could not have been here just now.... He must take great care +not to become so much confused again. + + * * * * * + +"The first question," read the voice slowly, "is, Whether you have said +mass in other places beside Padley and the manor at Booth's Edge. We +know that you must have done so; but we must have the names of the +places, and of the parties present, so far as you can remember them. + +"The second question is, the names of all those other priests with whom +you have spoken in England, since you came from Rheims; and the names of +all other students, not yet priests, or scarcely, whom you knew at +Rheims, and who are for England. + +"The third question is, the names of all those whom you know to be +friends of Mr. John FitzHerbert, Mr. Bassett and Mr. Fenton--not being +priests; but Papists. + +"These three questions will do as a beginning. When you have answered +these, there is a number more. Now, sir." + +The last two words were rapped out sharply. Robin opened his eyes. + +"As to the first two questions," he whispered. "These assume that I am +a priest myself. Yet that is what you, have to prove against me. The +third question concerns ... concerns my loyalty to my friends. But I +will tell you--" + +"Yes?" (The voice was sharp and eager.) + +"I will tell you the names of two friends of each of those gentlemen you +have named." + +A pen suddenly scratched on paper. He could not see who held it. + +"Yes?" said the voice again. + +"Well, sir. The names of two of the friends of Mr. FitzHerbert are, Mr. +Bassett and Mr. Fenton. The names--" + +"Bah!" (The word sounded like the explosion of a gun.) + +"You are playing with us--" + +"The names," murmured the priest slowly, "of two of Mr. Fenton's friends +are Mr. FitzHerbert and--" + +A face, upside-down, thrust itself suddenly almost into his. He could +feel the hot breath on his forehead. + +"See here, Mr. Alban. You are fooling us. Do you think this is a +Christmas game? I tell you it is not yet three o'clock. There are three +hours more yet--" + +A smooth, sad voice interrupted. (The reversed face vanished.) + +"You have threatened the prisoner," it said, "but you have not yet told +him the alternative." + +"No, my lord.... Yes, my lord. Listen, Mr. Alban. My lord here says that +if you will answer these questions he will use his influence on your +behalf. Your life is forfeited, as you know very well. There is not a +dog's chance for you. Yet, if you will but answer these three +questions--and no more--(No more, my lord?)--Yes; these three questions +and no more, my lord will use his influence for you. He can promise +nothing, he says, but that; but my lord's influence--well, we need say +no more on that point. If you refuse to answer, on the other hand, there +are yet three hours more to-day; there is all to-morrow, and the next +day. And, after that, your case will be before my lords at the Assizes. +You have had but a taste of what we can do.... And then, sir, my lord +does not wish to be harsh...." + +There was a pause. + +Robin was counting up the hours. It was three o'clock now. Then he had +been on the rack, with intervals, since nine o'clock. That was six +hours. There was but half that again for to-day. Then would come the +night. He need not consider further than that.... But he must guard his +tongue. It might speak, in spite--- + +"Well, Mr. Alban?" + +He opened his eyes. + +"Well, sir?" + +"Which is it to be?" + +The priest smiled and closed his eyes again. If he could but fix his +attention on the mere pain, he thought, and refuse utterly to consider +the way of escape, he might be able to keep his unruly tongue in check. + +"You will not, then?" + +"No." + + * * * * * + +The appalling pain ran through him again like fiery snakes of iron--from +wrist to shoulders, from ankles to thighs, as the hands seized him and +lifted him.... + +There was a moment or two of relief as he sank down once more into the +trough of torture. He could feel that his feet were being handled, but +it appeared as if nothing touched his flesh. He gave a great sighing +moan as his arms were drawn back over his head; and the sweat poured +again from all over his body. + +Then, as the cords tightened: + +"As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended ..." he whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +A great murmuring crowd filled every flat spot of ground and pavement +and parapet. They stood even on the balustrade of St. Mary's Bridge; +there were fringes of them against the sky on the edges of roofs a +quarter of a mile away. No flat surface was to be seen anywhere except +on the broad reach of the river, and near the head of the bridge, in the +circular space, ringed by steel caps and pike-points, where the gallows +and ladder rose. Close beside them a column of black smoke rose heavily +into the morning air, bellying away into the clear air. A continual +steady low murmur of talking went up continually. + + * * * * * + +There had been no hanging within the memory of any that had roused such +interest. Derbyshire men had been hung often enough; a criminal usually +had a dozen friends at least in the crowd to whom he shouted from the +ladder. Seminary priests had been executed often enough now to have +destroyed the novelty of it for the mob; why, three had been done to +death here little more than two months ago in this very place. They gave +no sport, certainly; they died too quietly; and what peculiar interest +there was in it lay in the contemplation of the fact that it was for +religion that they died. Gentlemen, too, had been hanged here now and +then--polished persons, dressed in their best, who took off their outer +clothes carefully, and in one or two cases had handed them to a servant; +gentlemen with whom the sheriff shook hands before the end, who eyed the +mob imperturbably or affected even not to be aware of the presence of +the vulgar. But this hanging was sublime. + +First, he was a Derbyshire man, a seminary priest and a gentleman--three +points. Yet this was no more than the groundwork of his surpassing +interest. For, next, he had been racked beyond belief. It was for three +days before his sentence that Mr. Topcliffe himself had dealt with him. +(Yes, Mr. Topcliffe was the tall man that had his rooms in the +market-place, and always went abroad with two servants.... He was to +have Padley, too, it was said, as a reward for all his zeal.) Of course, +young Mr. Audrey (for that was his real name--not Alban; that was a +Popish _alias_ such as they all used)--Mr. Audrey had not been on the +rack for the whole of every day. But he had been in the rack-house eight +or nine hours on the first day, four the second, and six or seven the +third. And he had not answered one single question differently from the +manner in which he had answered it before ever he had been on the rack +at all. (There was a dim sense of pride with regard to this, in many +Derbyshire minds. A Derbyshire man, it appeared, was more than a match +for even a Londoner and a sworn servant of her Grace.) It was said that +Mr. Audrey would have to be helped up the ladder, even though he had not +been racked for a whole week since his sentence. + +Next, the trial itself had been full of interest. A Papist priest was, +of course, fair game. (Why, the Spanish Armada itself had been full of +them, it was said, all come to subdue England.... Well, they had had +their bellyful of salt water and English iron by now.) But this Papisher +had hit back and given sport. He had flatly refused to be caught, though +the questions were swift and subtle enough to catch any clerk. Certainly +he had not denied that he was a priest; but he had said that that was +what the Crown must prove: he was not there as a witness, he had said, +but as a prisoner; he had even entreated them to respect their own +legal dignities! But there had been a number of things against him, and +even if none of these had been proved, still, the mere sum of them was +enough; there could be no smoke without fire, said the proverb-quoters. +It was alleged that he had been privy to the plot against the Queen (the +plot of young Mr. Babington, who had sold his house down there a week or +two only before his arrest); he had denied this, but he had allowed that +he had spoken with her Grace immediately after the plot; and this was a +highly suspicious circumstance: if he allowed so much as this, the rest +might be safely presumed. Again, it was said that he had had part in +attempts to free the Queen of the Scots, even from Fotheringay itself; +and had been in the castle court, with a number of armed servants, at +the very time of her execution. Again, if he allowed that he had been +present, even though he denied the armed servants, the rest might be +presumed. Finally, since he were a priest, and had seen her Grace at a +time when there was no chaplain allowed to her, it was certain that he +must have ministered their Popish superstitions to her, and this was +neither denied nor affirmed: he had said to this that they had yet to +prove him a priest at all. The very spectacle of the trial, too, had +been remarkable; for, first, there was the extraordinary appearance of +the prisoner, bent double like an old man, with the face of a dead one, +though he could not be above thirty years old at the very most; and then +there was the unusual number of magistrates present in court besides the +judges, and my lord Shrewsbury himself, who had presided at the racking. +It was one of my lord's men, too, that had helped to identify the +prisoner. + +But the supreme interest lay in even more startling circumstances--in +the history of Mistress Manners, who was present through the trial with +Mr. Biddell the lawyer, and who had obtained at least two interviews +with the prisoner, one before the torture and the other after sentence. +It was in Mistress Manners' house at Booth's Edge that the priest had +been taken; and it was freely rumoured that although Mr. Audrey had once +been betrothed to her, yet that she had released and sent him herself to +Rheims, and all to end like this. And yet she could bear to come and see +him again; and, it was said, would be present somewhere in the crowd +even at his death. + +Finally, the tale of how the priest had been taken by his own +father--old Mr. Audrey of Matstead--him that was now lying sick in Mr. +Columbell's house--this put the crown on all the rest. A hundred rumours +flew this way and that: one said that the old man had known nothing of +his son's presence in the country, but had thought him to be still in +foreign parts. Another, that he knew him to be in England, but not that +he was in the county; a third, that he knew very well who it was in the +house he went to search, and had searched it and taken him on purpose to +set his own loyalty beyond question. Opinions differed as to the +propriety of such an action.... + + * * * * * + +So then the great crowd of heads--men from all the countryside, from +farms and far-off cottages and the wild hills, mingling with the +townsfolk--this crowd, broken up into levels and patches by river and +houses and lanes, moved to and fro in the October sunshine, and sent up, +with the column of smoke that eddied out from beneath the bubbling +tar-cauldron by the gallows, a continual murmur of talking, like the +sound of slow-moving wheels of great carts. + +He felt dazed and blind, yet with a kind of lightness too as he came +out of the gaol-gate into that packed mass of faces, held back by guards +from the open space where the horse and the hurdle waited. A dozen +persons or so were within the guards; he knew several of them by sight; +two or three were magistrates; another was an officer; two were +ministers with their Bibles. + +It is hard to say whether he were afraid. Fear was there, indeed--he +knew well enough that in his case, at any rate, the execution would be +done as the law ordered; that he would be cut down before he had time to +die, and that the butchery would be done on him while he would still be +conscious of it. Death, too, was fearful, in any case.... Yet there were +so many other things to occupy him--there was the exhilarating knowledge +that he was to die for his faith and nothing else; for they had offered +him his life if he would go to church; and they had proved nothing as to +any complicity of his in any plot, and how could they, since there was +none? There was the pain of his tormented body to occupy him; a pain +that had passed from the acute localized agonies of snapped sinews and +wrenched joints into one vast physical misery that soaked his whole body +as in a flood; a pain that never ceased; of which he dreamed darkly, as +a hungry man dreams of food which he cannot eat, to which he awoke again +twenty times a night as to a companion nearer to him than the thoughts +with which he attempted to distract himself. This pain, at least, would +have an end presently. Again, there was an intermittent curiosity as to +how and what would befall his flying soul when the butchery was done. +"To sup in Heaven" was a phrase used by one of his predecessors on the +threshold of death.... For what did that stand?... And at other times +there had been no curiosity, but an acquiescence in old childish images. +Heaven at such times appeared to him as a summer garden, with pavilions, +and running water and the song of birds ... a garden where he would lie +at ease at last from his torn body and that feverish mind, which was all +that his pain had left to him; where Mary went, gracious and motherly, +with her virgins about her; where the Crucified Lamb of God would talk +with him as a man talks with his friend, and allow him to lie at the +Pierced Feet ... where the glory of God rested like eternal sunlight on +all that was there; on the River of Life, and the wood of the trees that +are for the healing of all hurts. + +And, last of all, there was a confused medley of more human thoughts +that concerned persons other than himself. He could not remember all the +persons clearly; their names and their faces came and went. Marjorie, +his father, Mr. John FitzHerbert and Mr. Anthony, who had been allowed +to come and see him; Dick Sampson, who had come in with Marjorie the +second time and had kissed his hands. One thing at least he remembered +clearly as he stood here, and that was how he had bidden Mistress +Manners, even now, not to go overseas and become a nun, as she had +wished; but rather to continue her work in Derbyshire, if she could. + +So then he stood, bent double on two sticks, blinking and peering out at +the faces, wondering whether it was a roar of anger or welcome or +compassion that had broken out at his apparition, and smiling--smiling +piteously, not of deliberation, but because the muscles of his mouth so +moved, and he could not contract them again. + + * * * * * + +He understood presently that he was to lie down on the hurdle, with his +head to the horses' heels. + +This was a great business, to be undertaken with care. He gave his two +sticks to a man, and took his arm. Then he kneeled, clinging to the arm +as a child to a swimmer's in a rough sea, and sank gently down. But he +could not straighten his legs, so they allowed him to lie half +side-ways, and tied him so. It was amazingly uncomfortable, and, before +he was settled, twice the sweat suddenly poured from his face as he +found some new channel of pain in his body.... + +An order or two was issued in a loud, shouting voice; there was a great +confusion and scuffling, and the crack of a whip. Then, with a jerk that +tore his whole being, he was flicked from his place; the pain swelled +and swelled till there seemed no more room for it in all God's world; +and he closed his eyes so as not to see the house-roofs and the faces +and the sky whirl about in that mad jigging dance.... + +After that he knew very little of the journey. For the most part his +eyes were tight closed; he sobbed aloud half a dozen times as the hurdle +lifted and dropped over rough places in the road. Two or three times he +opened his eyes to see what the sounds signified, especially a loud, +bellowing voice almost in his ear that cried texts of Scripture at him. + +"_We have but one Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ +Jesus_...." + +"_We then, being justified by faith.... For if by the works of the Law +we are justified_...." + +He opened his eyes wide at that, and there was the face of one of the +ministers bobbing against the sky, flushed and breathless, yet +indomitable, bawling aloud as he trotted along to keep pace with the +horse. + +Then he closed his eyes again. He knew that he, too, could bandy texts +if that were what was required. Perhaps, if he were a better man and +more mortified, he might be able to do so as the martyrs sometimes had +done. But he could not ... he would have a word to say presently +perhaps, if it were permitted; but not now. His pain occupied him; he +had to deal with that and keep back, if he could, those sobs that were +wrenched from him now and again. He had made but a poor beginning in his +journey, he thought; he must die more decently than that. + + * * * * * + +The end came unexpectedly. Just when he thought he had gained his +self-control again, so as to make no sound at any rate, the hurdle +stopped. He clenched his teeth to meet the dreadful wrench with which it +would move again; but it did not. Instead there was a man down by him, +untying his bonds. He lay quite still when they were undone; he did not +know which limb to move first, and he dreaded to move any. + +"Now then," said the voice, with a touch of compassion, he thought. + +He set his teeth, gripped the arm and raised himself--first to his +knees, then to his feet, where he stood swaying. An indescribable roar +ascended steadily on all sides; but he could see little of the crowd as +yet. He was standing in a cleared space, held by guards. A couple of +dozen persons stood here; three or four on horseback; and one of these +he thought to be my lord Shrewsbury, but he was not sure, since his head +was against the glare of the sun. He turned a little, still holding to +the man's arm, and not knowing what to do, and saw a ladder behind him; +he raised his eyes and saw that its head rested against the cross-beam +of a single gallows, that a rope hung from this beam, and that a figure +sitting astride of this cross-beam was busy with this rope. The shock of +the sight cooled and nerved him; rather, it drew his attention all from +himself.... He looked lower again, and behind the gallows was a column +of heavy smoke going up, and in the midst of the smoke a cauldron hung +on a tripod. Beside the cauldron was a great stump of wood, with a +chopper and a knife lying upon it.... He drew one long steady breath, +expelled it again, and turned back to my lord Shrewsbury. As he turned, +he saw him make a sign, and felt himself grasped from behind. + + +III + +He reached at last with his hands the rung of the ladder on which the +executioner's foot rested, hearing, as he went painfully up, the roar of +voices wax to an incredible volume. It was impossible for any to speak +so that he could hear, but he saw the hands above him in eloquent +gesture, and understood that he was to turn round. He did so cautiously, +grasping the man's foot, and so rested, half sitting on a rung, and +holding it as well as he could with his two hands. Then he felt a rope +pass round his wrists, drawing them closer together.... As he turned, +the roar of voices died to a murmur; the murmur died to silence, and he +understood and remembered. It was now the time to speak.... He gathered +for the last time all his forces together. With the sudden silence, +clearness came back to his mind, and he remembered word for word the +little speech he had rehearsed so often during the last week. He had +learned it by heart, fearful lest God should give him no words if he +trusted to the moment, lest God should not see fit to give him even that +interior consolation which was denied to so many of the saints--yet +without which he could not speak from the heart. He had been right, he +knew now: there was no religious consolation; he felt none of that +strange heart-shaking ecstasy that had transfigured other deaths like +his; he had none of the ready wit that Campion had showed. He saw +nothing but the clear October sky above him, cut by the roofs fringed +with heads (a skein of birds passed slowly over it as he raised his +eyes); and, beneath, that irreckonable pavement of heads, motionless now +as a cornfield in a still evening, one glimpse of the river--the river, +he remembered even at this instant, that came down from Hathersage and +Padley and his old home. But there was no open vision, such as he had +half hoped to see, no unimaginable glories looming slowly through the +veils in which God hides Himself on earth, no radiant face smiling into +his own--only this arena of watching human faces turned up to his, +waiting for his last sermon.... He thought he saw faces that he knew, +though he lost them again as his eyes swept on--Mr. Barton, the old +minister of Matstead; Dick; Mr. Bassett.... Their faces looked +terrified.... However, this was not his affair now. + +As he was about to speak he felt hands about his neck, and then the +touch of a rope passed across his face. For an indescribable instant a +terror seized on him; he closed his eyes and set his teeth. The spasm +passed, and so soon as the hands were withdrawn again, he began: + + * * * * * + +"Good people"--(at the sound of his voice, high and broken, the silence +became absolute. A thin crowing of a cock from far off in the country +came like a thread and ceased)--"Good people: I die here as a Catholic +man, for my priesthood, which I now confess before all the world." (A +stir of heads and movements below distracted him. But he went on at +once.) "There have been alleged against me crimes in which I had neither +act nor part, against the life of her Grace and the peace of her +dominions." + +"Pray for her Grace," rang out a sharp voice below him. + +"I will do so presently.... It is for that that I am said to die, in +that I took part in plots of which I knew nothing till all was done. Yet +I was offered my life, if I would but conform and go to church; so you +see very well--" + +A storm of confused voices interrupted him. He could distinguish no +sentence, so he waited till they ceased again. + +"So you see very well," he cried, "for what it is that I die. It is for +the Catholic faith--" + +"Beat the drums! beat the drums!" cried a voice. There began a drumming; +but a howl like a beast's surged up from the whole crowd. When it died +again the drum was silent. He glanced down at my lord Shrewsbury and saw +him whispering with an officer. Then he continued: + +"It is for the Catholic faith, then, that I die--that which was once the +faith of all England--and which, I pray, may be one day its faith again. +In that have I lived, and in that will I die. And I pray God, further, +that all who hear me to-day may have grace to take it as I do--as the +true Christian Religion (and none other)--revealed by our Saviour +Christ." + +The crowd was wholly quiet again now. My lord had finished his +whispering, and was looking up. But the priest had made his little +sermon, and thought that he had best pray aloud before his strength +failed him. His knees were already shaking violently under him, and the +sweat was pouring again from his face, not so much from the effort of +his speech as from the pain which that effort caused him. It seemed that +there was not one nerve in his body that was not in pain. + +"I ask all Catholics, then, that hear me to join with me in prayer.... +First, for Christ's Catholic Church throughout the world, for her peace +and furtherance.... Next, for our England, for the conversion of all her +children; and, above all, for her Grace, my Queen and yours, that God +will bless and save her in this world, and her soul eternally in the +next. For these and all other such matters I will beg all Catholics to +join with me and to say the _Our Father_; and when I am in my agony to +say yet another for my soul." + +"_Our Father_...." + +From the whole packed space the prayer rose up, in great and heavy waves +of sound. There were cries of mockery three or four times, but each was +suddenly cut off.... The waves of sound rolled round and ceased, and the +silence was profound. The priest opened his eyes; closed them again. +Then with a loud voice he began to cry: + +"O Christ, as Thine arms were extended--" + + * * * * * + +He stopped again, shaken even from that intense point of concentration +to which he was forcing himself, by the amazing sound that met his ears. +He had heard, at the close of the _Our Father_, a noise which he could +not interpret: but no more had happened. But now the whole world seemed +screaming and swaying: he heard the trample of horses beneath +him--voices in loud expostulation. + +He opened his eyes; the clamour died again at the same instant.... For a +moment his eyes wandered over the heads and up to the sky, to see if +some vision.... Then he looked down.... + +Against the ladder on which he stood, a man's figure was writhing and +embracing the rungs kneeling on the ground. He was strangely dressed, in +some sort of a loose gown, in a tight silk night-cap, and his feet were +bare. The man's head was dropped, and the priest could not see his face. +He looked beyond for some explanation, and there stood, all alone, a +girl in a hooded cloak, who raised her great eyes to his. As he looked +down again the man's head had fallen back, and the face was staring up +at him, so distorted with speechless entreaty, that even he, at first, +did not recognize it.... + +Then he saw it to be his father, and understood enough, at least, to act +as a priest for the last time. + +He smiled a little, leaned his own head forward as from a cross, and +spoke.... + +"_Absolvo te a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus +Sancti_...." + + +VI + +He only awoke once again, after the strangling and the darkness had +passed. He could see nothing, nor hear, except a heavy murmuring noise, +not unpleasant. But there was one last Pain not into which all others +had passed, keen and cold like water, and it was about his heart. + +"O Christ--" he whispered, and so died. + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Come Rack! Come Rope!, by Robert Hugh Benson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME RACK! COME ROPE! *** + +***** This file should be named 15992-8.txt or 15992-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/9/15992/ + +Produced by Geoff Horton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Come Rack! Come Rope! + +Author: Robert Hugh Benson + +Release Date: June 5, 2005 [EBook #15992] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME RACK! COME ROPE! *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Horton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +Come Rack! Come Rope! + +BY + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON + +_Author of "By What Authority?" "The King's Achievement," +"Lord of the World," etc._ + + +New York +P.J. Kenedy & Sons + + + + +PREFACE + + +Very nearly the whole of this book is sober historical fact; and by far +the greater number of the personages named in it once lived and acted in +the manner in which I have presented them. My hero and my heroine are +fictitious; so also are the parents of my heroine, the father of my +hero, one lawyer, one woman, two servants, a farmer and his wife, the +landlord of an inn, and a few other entirely negligible characters. But +the family of the FitzHerberts passed precisely through the fortunes +which I have described; they had their confessors and their one traitor +(as I have said). Mr. Anthony Babington plotted, and fell, in the manner +that is related; Mary languished in Chartley under Sir Amyas Paulet; was +assisted by Mr. Bourgoign; was betrayed by her secretary and Mr. +Gifford, and died at Fotheringay; Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam and Mr. +Simpson received their vocations, passed through their adventures; were +captured at Padley, and died in Derby. Father Campion (from whose speech +after torture the title of the book is taken) suffered on the rack and +was executed at Tyburn. Mr. Topcliffe tormented the Catholics that fell +into his hands; plotted with Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert, and bargained for +Padley (which he subsequently lost again) on the terms here drawn out. +My Lord Shrewsbury rode about Derbyshire, directed the search for +recusants and presided at their deaths; priests of all kinds came and +went in disguise; Mr. Owen went about constructing hiding-holes; Mr. +Bassett lived defiantly at Langleys, and dabbled a little (I am afraid) +in occultism; Mr. Fenton was often to be found in Hathersage--all these +things took place as nearly as I have had the power of relating them. +Two localities only, I think, are disguised under their names--Booth's +Edge and Matstead. Padley, or rather the chapel in which the last mass +was said under the circumstances described in this book, remains, to +this day, close to Grindleford Station. A Catholic pilgrimage is made +there every year; and I have myself once had the honour of preaching on +such an occasion, leaning against the wall of the old hall that is +immediately beneath the chapel where Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam said +their last masses, and were captured. If the book is too sensational, it +is no more sensational than life itself was to Derbyshire folk between +1579 and 1588. + +It remains only, first, to express my extreme indebtedness to Dom Bede +Camm's erudite book--"Forgotten Shrines"--from which I have taken +immense quantities of information, and to a pile of some twenty to +thirty other books that are before me as I write these words; and, +secondly, to ask forgiveness from the distinguished family that takes +its name from the FitzHerberts and is descended from them directly; and +to assure its members that old Sir Thomas, Mr. John, Mr. Anthony, and +all the rest, down to the present day, outweigh a thousand times over +(to the minds of all decent people) the stigma of Mr. Thomas' name. Even +the apostles numbered one Judas! + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON. + +_Feast of the Blessed Thomas More, 1912. +Hare Street House, Buntingford._ + + + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +There should be no sight more happy than a young man riding to meet his +love. His eyes should shine, his lips should sing; he should slap his +mare upon her shoulder and call her his darling. The puddles upon his +way should be turned to pure gold, and the stream that runs beside him +should chatter her name. + +Yet, as Robin rode to Marjorie none of these things were done. It was a +still day of frost; the sky was arched above him, across the high hills, +like that terrible crystal which is the vault above which sits God--hard +blue from horizon to horizon; the fringe of feathery birches stood like +filigree-work above him on his left; on his right ran the Derwent, +sucking softly among his sedges; on this side and that lay the flat +bottom through which he went--meadowland broken by rushes; his mare +Cecily stepped along, now cracking the thin ice of the little pools with +her dainty feet, now going gently over peaty ground, blowing thin clouds +from her red nostrils, yet unencouraged by word or caress from her +rider; who sat, heavy and all but slouching, staring with his blue eyes +under puckered eyelids, as if he went to an appointment which he would +not keep. + +Yet he was a very pleasant lad to look upon, smooth-faced and gallant, +mounted and dressed in a manner that should give any lad joy. He wore +great gauntlets on his hands; he was in his habit of green; he had his +steel-buckled leather belt upon him beneath his cloak and a pair of +daggers in it, with his long-sword looped up; he had his felt hat on +his head, buckled again, and decked with half a pheasant's tail; he had +his long boots of undressed leather, that rose above his knees; and on +his left wrist sat his grim falcon Agnes, hooded and belled, not because +he rode after game, but from mere custom, and to give her the air. + +He was meeting his first man's trouble. + +Last year he had said good-bye to Derby Grammar School--of old my lord +Bishop Durdant's foundation--situated in St. Peter's churchyard. Here he +had done the right and usual things; he had learned his grammar; he had +fought; he had been chastised; he had robed the effigy of his pious +founder in a patched doublet with a saucepan on his head (but that had +been done before he had learned veneration)--and so had gone home again +to Matstead, proficient in Latin, English, history, writing, good +manners and chess, to live with his father, to hunt, to hear mass when a +priest was within reasonable distance, to indite painful letters now and +then on matters of the estate, and to learn how to bear himself +generally as should one of Master's rank--the son of a gentleman who +bore arms, and his father's father before him. He dined at twelve, he +supped at six, he said his prayers, and blessed himself when no +strangers were by. He was something of a herbalist, as a sheer hobby of +his own; he went to feed his falcons in the morning, he rode with them +after dinner (from last August he had found himself riding north more +often than south, since Marjorie lived in that quarter); and now all had +been crowned last Christmas Eve, when in the enclosed garden at her +house he had kissed her two hands suddenly, and made her a little speech +he had learned by heart; after which he kissed her on the lips as a man +should, in the honest noon sunlight. + +All this was as it should be. There were no doubts or disasters +anywhere. Marjorie was an only daughter as he an only son. Her father, +it is true, was but a Derby lawyer, but he and his wife had a good +little estate above the Hathersage valley, and a stone house in it. As +for religion, that was all well too. Master Manners was as good a +Catholic as Master Audrey himself; and the families met at mass perhaps +as much as four or five times in the year, either at Padley, where Sir +Thomas' chapel still had priests coming and going; sometimes at Dethick +in the Babingtons' barn; sometimes as far north as Harewood. + +And now a man's trouble was come upon the boy. The cause of it was as +follows. + +Robin Audrey was no more religious than a boy of seventeen should be. +Yet he had had as few doubts about the matter as if he had been a monk. +His mother had taught him well, up to the time of her death ten years +ago; and he had learned from her, as well as from his father when that +professor spoke of it at all, that there were two kinds of religion in +the world, the true and the false--that is to say, the Catholic religion +and the other one. Certainly there were shades of differences in the +other one; the Turk did not believe precisely as the ancient Roman, nor +yet as the modern Protestant--yet these distinctions were subtle and +negligible; they were all swallowed up in an unity of falsehood. Next he +had learned that the Catholic religion was at present blown upon by many +persons in high position; that pains and penalties lay upon all who +adhered to it. Sir Thomas FitzHerbert, for instance, lay now in the +Fleet in London on that very account. His own father, too, three or four +times in the year, was under necessity of paying over heavy sums for the +privilege of not attending Protestant worship; and, indeed, had been +forced last year to sell a piece of land over on Lees Moor for this very +purpose. Priests came and went at their peril.... He himself had fought +two or three battles over the affair in St. Peter's churchyard, until he +had learned to hold his tongue. But all this was just part of the game. +It seemed to him as inevitable and eternal as the changes of the +weather. Matstead Church, he knew, had once been Catholic; but how long +ago he did not care to inquire. He only knew that for awhile there had +been some doubt on the matter; and that before Mr. Barton's time, who +was now minister there, there had been a proper priest in the place, who +had read English prayers there and a sort of a mass, which he had +attended as a little boy. Then this had ceased; the priest had gone and +Mr. Barton come, and since that time he had never been to church there, +but had heard the real mass wherever he could with a certain secrecy. +And there might be further perils in future, as there might be +thunderstorms or floods. There was still the memory of the descent of +the Commissioners a year or two after his birth; he had been brought up +on the stories of riding and counter-riding, and the hiding away of +altar-plate and beads and vestments. But all this was in his bones and +blood; it was as natural that professors of the false religion should +seek to injure and distress professors of the true, as that the foxes +should attack the poultry-yard. One took one's precautions, one hoped +for the best; and one was quite sure that one day the happy ancient +times his mother had told him of would come back, and Christ's cause be +vindicated. + +And now the foundations of the earth were moved and heaven reeled above +him; for his father, after a month or two of brooding, had announced, on +St. Stephen's Day, that he could tolerate it no longer; that God's +demands were unreasonable; that, after all, the Protestant religion was +the religion of her Grace, that men must learn to move with the times, +and that he had paid his last fine. At Easter, he observed, he would +take the bread and wine in Matstead Church, and Robin would take them +too. + + +II + +The sun stood half-way towards his setting as Robin rode up from the +valley, past Padley, over the steep ascent that led towards Booth's +Edge. The boy was brighter a little as he came up; he had counted above +eighty snipe within the last mile and a half, and he was coming near to +Marjorie. About him, rising higher as he rose, stood the great +low-backed hills. Cecily stepped out more sharply, snuffing delicately, +for she knew her way well enough by now, and looked for a feed; and the +boy's perplexities stood off from him a little. Matters must surely be +better so soon as Marjorie's clear eyes looked upon them. + +Then the roofs of Padley disappeared behind him, and he saw the smoke +going up from the little timbered Hall, standing back against its bare +wind-blown trees. + +A great clatter and din of barking broke out as the mare's hoofs sounded +on the half-paved space before the great door; and then, in the pause, a +gaggling of geese, solemn and earnest, from out of sight. Jacob led the +outcry, a great mastiff, chained by the entrance, of the breed of which +three are set to meet a bear and four a lion. Then two harriers whipped +round the corner, and a terrier's head showed itself over the wall of +the herb-garden on the left, as a man, bareheaded, in his shirt and +breeches, ran out suddenly with a thonged whip, in time to meet a pair +of spaniels in full career. Robin sat his horse silently till peace was +restored, his right leg flung across the pommel, untwisting Agnes' leash +from his fist. Then he asked for Mistress Marjorie, and dropped to the +ground, leaving his mare and falcon in the man's hands, with an air. + +He flicked his fingers to growling Jacob as he went past to the side +entrance on the east, stepped in through the little door that was beside +the great one, and passed on as he had been bidden into the little +court, turned to the left, went up an outside staircase, and so down a +little passage to the ladies' parlour, where he knocked upon the door. +The voice he knew called to him from within; and he went in, smiling to +himself. Then he took the girl who awaited him there in both his arms, +and kissed her twice--first her hands and then her lips, for respect +should come first and ardour second. + +"My love," said Robin, and threw off his hat with the pheasant's tail, +for coolness' sake. + + * * * * * + +It was a sweet room this which he already knew by heart; for it was here +that he had sat with Marjorie and her mother, silent and confused, +evening after evening, last autumn; it was here, too, that she had led +him last Christmas Eve, scarcely ten days ago, after he had kissed her +in the enclosed garden. But the low frosty sunlight lay in it now, upon +the blue painted wainscot that rose half up the walls, the tall presses +where the linen lay, the pieces of stuff, embroidered with pale lutes +and wreaths that Mistress Manners had bought in Derby, hanging now over +the plaster spaces. There was a chimney, too, newly built, that was +thought a great luxury; and in it burned an armful of logs, for the girl +was setting out new linen for the household, and the scents of lavender +and burning wood disputed the air between them. + +"I thought it would be you," she said, "when I heard the dogs." + +She piled the last rolls of linen in an ordered heap, and came to sit +beside him. Robin took one hand in his and sat silent. + +She was of an age with him, perhaps a month the younger; and, as it +ought to be, was his very contrary in all respects. Where he was fair, +she was pale and dark; his eyes were blue, hers black; he was lusty and +showed promise of broadness, she was slender. + +"And what news do you bring with you now?" she said presently. + +He evaded this. + +"Mistress Manners?" he asked. + +"Mother has a megrim," she said; "she is in her chamber." And she smiled +at him again. For these two, as is the custom of young persons who love +one another, had said not a word on either side--neither he to his +father nor she to her parents. They believed, as young persons do, that +parents who bring children into the world, hold it as a chief danger +that these children should follow their example, and themselves be +married. Besides, there is something delicious in secrecy. + +"Then I will kiss you again," he said, "while there is opportunity." + + * * * * * + +Making love is a very good way to pass the time, above all when that +same time presses and other disconcerting things should be spoken of +instead; and this device Robin now learned. He spoke of a hundred things +that were of no importance: of the dress that she wore--russet, as it +should be, for country girls, with the loose sleeves folded back above +her elbows that she might handle the linen; her apron of coarse linen, +her steel-buckled shoes. He told her that he loved her better in that +than in her costume of state--the ruff, the fardingale, the brocaded +petticoat, and all the rest--in which he had seen her once last summer +at Babington House. He talked then, when she would hear no more of that, +of Tuesday seven-night, when they would meet for hawking in the lower +chase of the Padley estates; and proceeded then to speak of Agnes, whom +he had left on the fist of the man who had taken his mare, of her +increasing infirmities and her crimes of crabbing; and all the while he +held her left hand in both of his, and fitted her fingers between his, +and kissed them again when he had no more to say on any one point; and +wondered why he could not speak of the matter on which he had come, and +how he should tell her. And then at last she drew it from him. + +"And now, my Robin," she said, "tell me what you have in your mind. You +have talked of this and that and Agnes and Jock, and Padley chase, and +you have not once looked me in the eyes since you first came in." + +Now it was not shame that had held him from telling her, but rather a +kind of bewilderment. The affair might hold shame, indeed, or anger, or +sorrow, or complacence, but he did not know; and he wished, as young men +of decent birth should wish, to present the proper emotion on its right +occasion. He had pondered on the matter continually since his father had +spoken to him on Saint Stephen's night; and at one time it seemed that +his father was acting the part of a traitor and at another of a +philosopher. If it were indeed true, after all, that all men were +turning Protestant, and that there was not so much difference between +the two religions, then it would be the act of a wise man to turn +Protestant too, if only for a while. And on the other hand his pride of +birth and his education by his mother and his practice ever since drew +him hard the other way. He was in a strait between the two. He did not +know what to think, and he feared what Marjorie might think. + +It was this, then, that had held him silent. He feared what Marjorie +might think, for that was the very thing that he thought that he thought +too, and he foresaw a hundred inconveniences and troubles if it were so. + +"How did you know I had anything in my mind?" he asked. "Is it not +enough reason for my coming that you should be here?" + +She laughed softly, with a pleasant scornfulness. + +"I read you like a printed book," she said. "What else are women's wits +given them for?" + +He fell to stroking her hand again at that, but she drew it away. + +"Not until you have told me," she said. + +So then he told her. + +It was a long tale, for it began as far ago as last August, when his +father had come back from giving evidence before the justices at Derby +on a matter of witchcraft, and had been questioned again about his +religion. It was then that Robin had seen moodiness succeed to anger, +and long silence to moodiness. He told the tale with a true lover's art, +for he watched her face and trained his tone and his manner as he saw +her thoughts come and go in her eyes and lips, like gusts of wind across +standing corn; and at last he told her outright what his father had said +to him on St. Stephen's night, and how he himself had kept silence. + +Marjorie's face was as white as a moth's wing when he was finishing, and +her eyes like sunset pools; but she flamed up bright and rosy as he +finished. + +"You kept silence!" she cried. + +"I did not wish to anger him, my dear; he is my father," he said gently. + +The colour died out of her face again and she nodded once or twice, and +a great pensiveness came down on her. He took her hand again softly, and +she did not resist. + +"The only doubt," she said presently, as if she talked to herself, "is +whether you had best be gone at Easter, or stay and face it out." + +"Yes," said Robin, with his dismay come fully to the birth. + +Then she turned on him, full of a sudden tenderness and compassion. + +"Oh! my Robin," she cried, "and I have not said a word about you and +your own misery. I was thinking but of Christ's honour. You must forgive +me.... What must it be for you!... That it should be your father! You +are sure that he means it?" + +"My father does not speak until he means it. He is always like that. He +asks counsel from no one. He thinks and he thinks, and then he speaks; +and it is finished." + +She fell then to thinking again, her sweet lips compressed together, and +her eyes frightened and wondering, searching round the hanging above the +chimney-breast. (It presented Icarus in the chariot of the sun; and it +was said in Derby that it had come from my lord Abbot's lodging at +Bolton.) + +Meantime Robin thought too. He was as wax in the hands of this girl, and +knew it, and loved that it should be so. Yet he could not help his +dismay while he waited for her seal to come down on him and stamp him to +her model. For he foresaw more clearly than ever now the hundred +inconveniences that must follow, now that it was evident that to +Marjorie's mind (and therefore to God Almighty's) there must be no +tampering with the old religion. He had known that it must be so; yet he +had thought, on the way here, of a dozen families he knew who, in his +own memory, had changed from allegiance to the Pope of Rome to that of +her Grace, without seeming one penny the worse. There were the Martins, +down there in Derby; the Squire and his lady of Ashenden Hall; the +Conways of Matlock; and the rest--these had all changed; and though he +did not respect them for it, yet the truth was that they were not yet +stricken by thunderbolts or eaten by the plague. He had wondered whether +there were not a way to do as they had done, yet without the disgrace of +it.... However, this was plainly not to be so with him. He must put up +with the inconveniences as well as he could, and he just waited to hear +from Marjorie how this must be done. + +She turned to him again at last. Twice her lips opened to speak, and +twice she closed them again. Robin continued to stroke her hand and wait +for judgment. The third time she spoke. + +"I think you must go away," she said, "for Easter. Tell your father that +you cannot change your religion simply because he tells you so. I do not +see what else is to be done. He will think, perhaps, that if you have a +little time to think you will come over to him. Well, that is not so, +but it may make it easier for him to believe it for a while.... You must +go somewhere where there is a priest.... Where can you go?" + +Robin considered. + +"I could go to Dethick," he said. + +"That is not far enough away, I think." + +"I could come here," he suggested artfully. + +A smile lit in her eyes, shone in her mouth, and passed again into +seriousness. + +"That is scarcely a mile further," she said. "We must think.... Will he +be very angry, Robin?" + +Robin smiled grimly. + +"I have never withstood him in a great affair," he said. "He is angry +enough over little things." + +"Poor Robin!" + +"Oh! he is not unjust to me. He is a good father to me." + +"That makes it all the sadder," she said. + +"And there is no other way?" he asked presently. + +She glanced at him. + +"Unless you would withstand him to the face. Would you do that, Robin?" + +"I will do anything you tell me," he said simply. + +"You darling!... Well, Robin, listen to me. It is very plain that sooner +or later you will have to withstand him. You cannot go away every time +there is communion at Matstead, or, indeed, every Sunday. Your father +would have to pay the fines for you, I have no doubt, unless you went +away altogether. But I think you had better go away for this time. He +will almost expect it, I think. At first he will think that you will +yield to him; and then, little by little (unless God's grace brings +himself back to the Faith), he will learn to understand that you will +not. But it will be easier for him that way; and he will have time to +think what to do with you, too.... Robin, what would you do if you went +away?" + +Robin considered again. + +"I can read and write," he said. "I am a Latinist: I can train falcons +and hounds and break horses. I do not know if there is anything else +that I can do." + +"You darling!" she said again. + + * * * * * + +These two, as will have been seen, were as simple as children, and as +serious. Children are not gay and light-hearted, except now and then +(just as men and women are not serious except now and then). They are +grave and considering: all that they lack is experience. These two, +then, were real children; they were grave and serious because a great +thing had disclosed itself to them in which two or three large +principles were present, and no more. There was that love of one +another, whose consummation seemed imperilled, for how could these two +ever wed if Robin were to quarrel with his father? There was the +Religion which was in their bones and blood--the Religion for which +already they had suffered and their fathers before them. There was the +honour and loyalty which this new and more personal suffering demanded +now louder than ever; and in Marjorie at least, as will be seen more +plainly later, there was a strong love of Jesus Christ and His Mother, +whom she knew, from her hidden crucifix and her beads, and her Jesus +Psalter--which she used every day--as well as in her own soul--to be +wandering together once more among the hills of Derbyshire, sheltering, +at peril of Their lives, in stables and barns and little secret +chambers, because there was no room for Them in Their own places. It was +this last consideration, as Robin had begun to guess, that stood +strongest in the girl; it was this, too, as again he had begun to guess, +that made her all that she was to him, that gave her that strange +serious air of innocency and sweetness, and drew from him a love that +was nine-tenths reverence and adoration. (He always kissed her hands +first, it will be remembered, before her lips.) + +So then they sat and considered and talked. They did not speak much of +her Grace, nor of her Grace's religion, nor of her counsellors and +affairs of state: these things were but toys and vanities compared with +matters of love and faith; neither did they speak much of the +Commissioners that had been to Derbyshire once and would come again, or +of the alarms and the dangers and the priest hunters, since those things +did not at present touch them very closely. It was rather of Robin's +father, and whether and when the maid should tell her parents, and how +this new trouble would conflict with their love. They spoke, that is to +say, of their own business and of God's; and of nothing else. The frosty +sunshine crept down the painted wainscot and lay at last at their feet, +reddening to rosiness.... + + +III + +Robin rode away at last with a very clear idea of what he was to do in +the immediate present, and with no idea at all of what was to be done +later. Marjorie had given him three things--advice; a pair of beads that +had been the property of Mr. Cuthbert Maine, seminary priest, recently +executed in Cornwall for his religion; and a kiss--the first deliberate, +free-will kiss she had ever given him. The first he was to keep, the +second he was to return, the third he was to remember; and these three +things, or, rather, his consideration of them, worked upon him as he +went. Her advice, besides that which has been described, was, +principally, to say his Jesus Psalter more punctually, to hear mass +whenever that were possible, to trust in God, and to be patient and +submissive with his father in all things that did not touch divine love +and faith. The pair of beads that were once Mr. Maine's, he was to keep +upon him always, day and night, and to use them for his devotions. The +kiss--well, he was to remember this, and to return it to her upon their +next meeting. + +A great star came out as he drew near home. His path took him not +through the village, but behind it, near enough for him to hear the +barkings of the dogs and to smell upon the frosty air the scent of the +wood fires. The house was a great one for these parts. There was a small +gate-house before it, built by his father for dignity, with a lodge on +either side and an arch in the middle, and beyond this lay the short +road, straight and broad, that went up to the court of the house. This +court was, on three sides of it, buildings; the hall and the buttery and +the living-rooms in the midst, with the stables and falconry on the +left, and the servants' lodgings on the right; the fourth side, that +which lay opposite to the little gate-house, was a wall, with a great +double gate in it, hung on stone posts that had, each of them, a great +stone dog that held a blank shield. All this later part, the wall with +the gate, the stables and the servants' lodgings, as well as the +gatehouse without, had been built by the lad's father twenty years ago, +to bring home his wife to; for, until that time, the house had been but +a little place, though built of stone, and solid and good enough. The +house stood half-way up the rise of the hill, above the village, with +woods about it and behind it; and it was above these woods behind that +the great star came out like a diamond in enamel-work; and Robin looked +at it, and fell to thinking of Marjorie again, putting all other +thoughts away. Then, as he rode through into the court on to the cobbled +stones, a man ran out from the stable to take his mare from him. + +"Master Babington is here," he said. "He came half an hour ago." + +"He is in the hall?" + +"Yes, sir; they are at supper." + + * * * * * + +The hall at Matstead was such as that of most esquires of means. Its +dais was to the south end, and the buttery entrance and the screens to +the north, through which came the servers with the meat. In the midst of +the floor stood the reredos with the fire against it, and a round vent +overhead in the roof through which went the smoke and came the rain. The +tables stood down the hall, one on either side, with the master's table +at the dais end set cross-ways. It was not a great hall, though that was +its name; it ran perhaps forty feet by twenty. It was lighted, not only +by the fire that burned there through the winter day and night, but by +eight torches in cressets that hung against the walls and sadly smoked +them; and the master's table was lighted by six candles, of latten on +common days and of silver upon festivals. + +There were but two at the master's table this evening, Mr. Audrey +himself, a smallish, high-shouldered man, ruddy-faced, with bright blue +eyes like his son's, and no hair upon his face (for this was the way of +old men then, in the country, at least); and Mr. Anthony Babington, a +young man scarcely a year older than Robin himself, of a brown +complexion and a high look in his face, but a little pale, too, with +study, for he was learned beyond his years and read all the books that +he could lay hand to. It was said even that his own verses, and a +prose-lament he had written upon the Death of a Hound, were read with +pleasure in London by the lords and gentlemen. It was as long ago as +'71, that his verses had first become known, when he was still serving +in the school of good manners as page in my Lord Shrewsbury's household. +They were considered remarkable for so young a boy. So it was to this +company that Robin came, walking up between the tables after he had +washed his hands at the lavatory that stood by the screens. + +"You are late, lad," said his father. + +"I was over to Padley, sir.... Good-day, Anthony." + +Then silence fell again, for it was the custom in good houses to keep +silence, or very nearly, at dinner and supper. At times music would +play, if there was music to be had; or a scholar would read from a book +for awhile at the beginning, from the holy gospels in devout households, +or from some other grave book. But if there were neither music nor +reading, all would hold their tongues. + +Robin was hungry from his riding and the keen air; and he ate well. +First he stayed his appetite a little with a hunch of cheat-bread, and a +glass of pomage, while the servant was bringing him his entry of eggs +cooked with parsley. Then he ate this; and next came half a wild-duck +cooked with sage and sweet potatoes; and last of all a florentine which +he ate with a cup of Canarian. He ate heartily and quickly, while the +two waited for him and nibbled at marchpane. Then, when the doors were +flung open and the troop of servants came in to their supper, Mr. Audrey +blessed himself, and for them, too; and they went out by a door behind +into the wainscoted parlour, where the new stove from London stood, and +where the conserves and muscadel awaited them. For this, or like it, had +been the procedure in Matstead hall ever since Robin could remember, +when first he had come from the women to eat his food with the men. + +"And how were all at Booth's Edge?" asked Mr. Audrey, when all had +pulled off their boots in country fashion, and were sitting each with +his glass beside him. (Through the door behind came the clamour of the +farm-men and the keepers of the chase and the servants, over their +food.) + +"I saw Marjorie only, sir," said the boy. "Mr. Manners was in Derby, and +Mrs. Manners had a megrim." + +"Mrs. Manners is ageing swifter than her husband," observed Anthony. + +There seemed a constraint upon the company this evening. Robin spoke of +his ride, of things which he had seen upon it, of a wood that should be +thinned next year; and Anthony made a quip or two such as he was +accustomed to make; but the master sat silent for the most part, +speaking to the lads once or twice for civility's sake, but no more. And +presently silences began to fall, that were very unusual things in Mr. +Anthony's company, for he had a quick and a gay wit, and talked enough +for five. Robin knew very well what was the matter; it was what lay upon +his own heart as heavy as lead; but he was sorry that the signs of it +should be so evident, and wondered what he should say to his friend +Anthony when the time came for telling; since Anthony was as ardent for +the old Faith as any in the land. It was a bitter time, this, for the +old families that served God as their fathers had, and desired to serve +their prince too; for, now and again, the rumour would go abroad that +another house had fallen, and another name gone from the old roll. And +what would Anthony Babington say, thought the lad, when he heard that +Mr. Audrey, who had been so hot and persevered so long, must be added to +these? + +And then, on a sudden, Anthony himself opened on a matter that was at +least cognate. + +"I was hearing to-day from Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert that his uncle would +be let out again of the Fleet soon to collect his fines." + +He spoke bitterly; and, indeed, there was reason; for not only were the +recusants (as the Catholics were named) put in prison for their faith, +but fined for it as well, and let out of prison to raise money for this, +by selling their farms or estates. + +"He will go to Norbury?" asked Robin. + +"He will come to Padley, too, it is thought. Her Grace must have her +money for her ships and her men, and for her pursuivants to catch us all +with; and it is we that must pay. Shall you sell again this year, sir?" + +Mr. Audrey shook his head, pursing up his lips and staring upon the +fire. + +"I can sell no more," he said. + +Then an agony seized upon Robin lest his father should say all that was +in his mind. He knew it must be said; yet he feared its saying, and with +a quick wit he spoke of that which he knew would divert his friend. + +"And the Queen of the Scots," he said. "Have you heard more of her?" + +Now Anthony Babington was one of those spirits that live largely within +themselves, and therefore see that which is without through a haze or +mist of their own moods. He read much in the poets; you would say that +Vergil and Ovid, as well as the poets of his own day, were his friends; +he lived within, surrounded by his own images, and therefore he loved +and hated with ten times the ardour of a common man. He was furious for +the Old Faith, furious against the new; he dreamed of wars and gallantry +and splendour; you could see it even in his dress, in his furred +doublet, the embroideries at his throat, his silver-hilted rapier, as +well as in his port and countenance: and the burning heart of all his +images, the mirror on earth of Mary in heaven, the emblem of his piety, +the mistress of his dreams--she who embodied for him what the courtiers +in London protested that Elizabeth embodied for them--the pearl of great +price, the one among ten thousand--this, for him, was Mary Stuart, Queen +of Scotland, now prisoner in her cousin's hands, going to and fro from +house to house, with a guard about her, yet with all the seeming of +liberty and none of its reality.... + +The rough bitterness died out of the boy's face, and a look came upon it +as of one who sees a vision. + +"Queen Mary?" he said, as if he pronounced the name of the Mother of +God. "Yes; I have heard of her.... She is in Norfolk, I think." + +Then he let flow out of him the stream that always ran in his heart like +sorrowful music ever since the day when first, as a page, in my Lord +Shrewsbury's house in Sheffield, he had set eyes on that queen of +sorrows. Then, again, upon the occasion of his journey to Paris, he had +met with Mr. Morgan, her servant, and the Bishop of Glasgow, her +friend, whose talk had excited and inspired him. He had learned from +them something more of her glories and beauties, and remembering what he +had seen of her, adored her the more. He leaned back now, shading his +eyes from the candles upon the table, and began to sing his love and his +queen. He told of new insults that had been put upon her, new +deprivations of what was left to her of liberty; he did not speak now of +Elizabeth by name, since a fountain, even of talk, should not give out +at once sweet water and bitter; but he spoke of the day when Mary should +come herself to the throne of England, and take that which was already +hers; when the night should roll away, and the morning-star arise; and +the Faith should come again like the flowing tide, and all things be +again as they had been from the beginning. It was rank treason that he +talked, such as would have brought him to Tyburn if it had been spoken +in London in indiscreet company; it was that treason which her Grace +herself had made possible by her faithlessness to God and man; such +treason as God Himself must have mercy upon, since He reads all hearts +and their intentions. The others kept silence. + +At the end he stood up. Then he stooped for his boots. + +"I must be riding, sir," he said. + +Mr. Audrey raised his hand to the latten bell that stood beside him on +the table. + +"I will take Anthony to his horse," said Robin suddenly, for a thought +had come to him. + +"Then good-night, sir," said Anthony, as he drew on his second boot and +stood up. + + * * * * * + +The sky was all ablaze with stars now as they came out into the court. +On their right shone the high windows of the little hall where peace now +reigned, except for the clatter of the boys who took away the dishes; +and the night was very still about them in the grip of the frost, for +the village went early to bed, and even the dogs were asleep. + +Robin said nothing as they went over the paving, for his determination +was not yet ripe, and Anthony was still aglow with his own talk. Then, +as the servant who waited for his master, with the horses, showed +himself in the stable-arch with a lantern, Robin's mind was made up. + +"I have something to tell you," he said softly. "Tell your man to wait." + +"Eh?" + +"Tell your man to wait with the horses." + +His heart beat hot and thick in his throat as he led the way through the +screens and out beyond the hall and down the steps again into the +pleasaunce. Anthony took him by the sleeve once or twice, but he said +nothing, and went on across the grass, and out through the open iron +gate that gave upon the woods. He dared not say what he had to say +within the precincts of the house, for fear he should be overheard and +the shame known before its time. Then, when they had gone a little way +into the wood, into the dark out of the starlight, Robin turned; and, as +he turned, saw the windows of the hall go black as the boys extinguished +the torches. + +"Well?" whispered Anthony sharply (for a fool could see that the news +was to be weighty, and Anthony was no fool). + +It was wonderful how Robin's thoughts had fixed themselves since his +talk with Mistress Marjorie. He had gone to Padley, doubting of what he +should say, doubting what she would tell him, asking himself even +whether compliance might not be the just as well as the prudent way. Yet +now black shame had come on him--the black shame that any who was a +Catholic should turn from his faith; blacker, that he should so turn +without even a touch of the rack or the threat of it; blackest of all, +that it should be his own father who should do this. It was partly food +and wine that had strengthened him, partly Anthony's talk just now; but +the frame and substance of it all was Marjorie and her manner of +speaking, and her faith in him and in God. + +He stood still, silent, breathing so heavily that Anthony heard him. + +"Tell me, Rob; tell me quickly." + +Robin drew a long breath. + +"You saw that my father was silent?" he said. + +"Yes." + +"Stay.... Will you swear to me by the mass that you will tell no one +what you will hear from me till you hear it from others?" + +"I will swear it," whispered Anthony in the darkness. + +Again Robin sighed in a long, shuddering breath. Anthony could hear him +tremble with cold and pain. + +"Well," he said, "my father will leave the Church next Easter. He is +tired of paying fines, he says. And he has bidden me to come with him to +Matstead Church." + +There was dead silence. + +"I went to tell Marjorie to-day," whispered Robin. "She has promised to +be my wife some day; so I told her, but no one else. She has bidden me +to leave Matstead for Easter, and pray to God to show me what to do +afterwards. Can you help me, Anthony?" + +He was seized suddenly by the arms. + +"Robin.... No ... no! It is not possible!" + +"It is certain. I have never known my father to turn from his word." + + * * * * * + +From far away in the wild woods came a cry as the two stood there. It +might be a wolf or fox, if any were there, or some strange night-bird, +or a woman in pain. It rose, it seemed, to a scream, melancholy and +dreadful, and then died again. The two heard it, but said nothing, one +to the other. No doubt it was some beast in a snare or a-hunting, but it +chimed in with the desolation of their hearts so as to seem but a part +of it. So the two stood in silence. The house was quiet now, and most of +those within it upon their beds. Only, as the two knew, there still sat +in silence within the little wainscoted parlour, with his head on his +hand and a glass of muscadel beside him--he of whom they thought--the +father of one and the friend and host of the other.... It was not until +this instant in the dark and to the quiet, with the other lad's hands +still gripped on to his arms, that this boy understood the utter shame +and the black misery of that which he had said, and the other heard. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +There were excuses in plenty for Robin to ride abroad, to the north +towards Hathersage or to the south towards Dethick, as the whim took +him; for he was learning to manage the estate that should be his one +day. At one time it was to quiet a yeoman whose domain had been ridden +over and his sown fields destroyed; at another, to dispute with a miller +who claimed for injury through floods for which he held his lord +responsible; at a third, to see to the woodland or the fences broken by +the deer. He came and went then as he willed; and on the second day, +after Anthony's visit, set out before dinner to meet him, that they +might speak at length of what lay now upon both their hearts. + +To his father he had said no more, nor he to him. His father sat quiet +in the parlour, or was in his own chamber when Robin was at home; but +the lad understood very well that there was no thought of yielding. And +there were a dozen things on which he himself must come to a decision. +There was the first, the question as to where he was to go for Easter, +and how he was to tell his father; what to do if his father forbade him +outright; whether or no the priests of the district should be told; what +to do with the chapel furniture that was kept in a secret place in a +loft at Matstead. Above all, there hung over him the thought of what +would come after, if his father held to his decision and would allow him +neither to keep his religion at home nor go elsewhere. + +On the second day, therefore, he rode out (the frost still holding, +though the sun was clear and warm), and turned southwards through the +village for the Dethick road, towards the place in which he had +appointed to meet Anthony. At the entrance to the village he passed the +minister, Mr. Barton, coming out of his house, that had been the +priest's lodging, a middle-aged man, made a minister under the new +Prayer-Book, and therefore, no priest as were some of the ministers +about, who had been made priests under Mary. He was a solid man, of no +great wit or learning, but there was not an ounce of harm in him. (They +were fortunate, indeed, to have such a minister; since many parishes had +but laymen to read the services; and in one, not twenty miles away, the +squire's falconer held the living.) Mr. Barton was in his sad-coloured +cloak and round cap, and saluted Robin heartily in his loud, bellowing +voice. + +"Riding abroad again," he cried, "on some secret errand!" + +"I will give your respects to Mr. Babington," said Robin, smiling +heavily. "I am to meet him about a matter of a tithe too!" + +"Ah! you Papists would starve us altogether if you could," roared the +minister, who wished no better than to be at peace with his neighbours, +and was all for liberty. + +"You will get your tithe safe enough--one of you, at least," said Robin. +"It is but a matter as to who shall pay it." + +He waved good-day to the minister and set his horse to the Dethick +track. + + * * * * * + +There was no going fast to-day along this country road. The frosts and +the thaws had made of it a very way of sorrows. Here in the harder parts +was a tumble of ridges and holes, with edges as hard as steel; here in +the softer, the faggots laid to build it up were broken or rotted +through, making it no better than a trap for horses' feet; and it was a +full hour before Robin finished his four miles and turned up through the +winter woodland to the yeoman's farm where he was to meet Anthony. It +was true, as he had said to Mr. Barton, that they were to speak of a +matter of tithe--this was to be their excuse if his father questioned +him--for there was a doubt as to in which parish stood this farm, for +the yeoman tilled three meadows that were in the Babington estate and +two in Matstead. + +As he came up the broken ground on to the crest of the hill, he saw +Anthony come out of the yard-gate and the yeoman with him. Then Anthony +mounted his horse and rode down towards him, bidding the man stay, over +his shoulder. + +"It is all plain enough," shouted Anthony loud enough for the man to +hear. "It is Dethick that must pay. You need not come up, Robin; we must +do the paying." + +Robin checked his mare and waited till the other came near enough to +speak. + +"Young Thomas FitzHerbert is within. He is riding round his new +estates," said the other beneath his breath. "I thought I would come out +and tell you; and I do not know where we can talk or dine. I met him on +the road, and he would come with me. He is eating his dinner there." + +"But I must eat my dinner too," said Robin, in dismay. + +"Will you tell him of what you have told me? He is safe and discreet, I +think." + +"Why, yes, if you think so," said Robin. "I do not know him very well." + +"Oh! he is safe enough, and he has learned not to talk. Besides, all the +country will know it by Easter." + +So they turned their horses back again and rode up to the farm. + + * * * * * + +It was a great day for a yeoman when three gentlemen should take their +dinners in his house; and the place was in a respectful uproar. From the +kitchen vent went up a pillar of smoke, and through its door, in and out +continually, fled maids with dishes. The yeoman himself, John Merton, a +dried-looking, lean man, stood cap in hand to meet the gentlemen; and +his wife, crimson-faced from the fire, peeped and smiled from the open +door of the living-room that gave immediately upon the yard. For these +gentlemen were from three of the principal estates here about. The +Babingtons had their country house at Dethick and their town house in +Derby; the Audreys owned a matter of fifteen hundred acres at least all +about Matstead; and the FitzHerberts, it was said, scarcely knew +themselves all that they owned, or rather all that had been theirs until +the Queen's Grace had begun to strip them of it little by little on +account of their faith. The two Padleys, at least, were theirs, besides +their principal house at Norbury; and now that Sir Thomas was in the +Fleet Prison for his religion, young Mr. Thomas, his heir, was of more +account than ever. + +He was at his dinner when the two came in, and he rose and saluted them. +He was a smallish kind of man, with a little brown beard, and his short +hair, when he lifted his flapped cap to them, showed upright on his +head; he smiled pleasantly enough, and made space for them to sit down, +one at each side. + +"We shall do very well now, Mrs. Merton," he said, "if you will bring in +that goose once more for these gentlemen." + +Then he made excuses for beginning his dinner before them: he was on +his way home and must be off again presently. + +It was a well-furnished table for a yeoman's house. There was a linen +napkin for each guest, one corner of which he tucked into his throat, +while the other corner lay beneath his wooden plate. The twelve silver +spoons were laid out on the smooth elm-table, and a silver salt stood +before Mr. Thomas. There was, of course, an abundance to eat and drink, +even though no more than two had been expected; and John Merton himself +stood hatless on the further side of the table and took the dishes from +the bare-armed maids to place them before the gentlemen. There was a +jack of metheglin for each to drink, and a huge loaf of miscelin (or +bread made of mingled corn) stood in the midst and beyond the salt. + +They talked of this and of that and of the other, freely and easily--of +Mr. Thomas' marriage with Mistress Westley that was to take place +presently; of the new entailment of the estates made upon him by his +uncle. John Merton inquired, as was right, after Sir Thomas, and openly +shook his head when he heard of his sufferings (for he and his wife were +as good Catholics as any in the country); and when the room was empty +for a moment of the maids, spoke of a priest who, he had been told, +would say mass in Tansley next day (for it was in this way, for the most +part, that such news was carried from mouth to mouth). Then, when the +maids came in again, the battle of the tithe was fought once more, and +Mr. Thomas pronounced sentence for the second time. + +They blessed themselves, all four of them, openly at the end, and went +out at last to their horses. + +"Will you ride with us, sir?" asked Anthony; "we can go your way. Robin +here has something to say to you." + +"I shall be happy if you will give me your company for a little. I must +be at Padley before dark, if I can, and must visit a couple of houses on +the way." + +He called out to his two servants, who ran out from the kitchen wiping +their mouths, telling them to follow at once, and the three rode off +down the hill. + +Then Robin told him. + +He was silent for a while after he had put a question or two, biting his +lower lip a little, and putting his little beard into his mouth. Then he +burst out. + +"And I dare not ask you to come to me for Easter," he said. "God only +knows where I shall be at Easter. I shall be married, too, by then. My +father is in London now and may send for me. My uncle is in the Fleet. I +am here now only to see what money I can raise for the fines and for the +solace of my uncle. I cannot ask you, Mr. Audrey, though God knows that +I would do anything that I could. Have you nowhere to go? Will your +father hold to what he says?" + +Robin told him yes; and he added that there were four or five places he +could go to. He was not asking for help or harbourage, but advice only. + +"And even of that I have none," cried Mr. Thomas. "I need all that I can +get myself. I am distracted, Mr. Babington, with all these troubles." + +Robin asked him whether the priests who came and went should be told of +the blow that impended; for at those times every apostasy was of +importance to priests who had to run here and there for shelter. + +"I will tell one or two of the more discreet ones myself," said Mr. +Thomas, "if you will give me leave. I would that they were all discreet, +but they are not. We will name no names, if you please; but some of them +are unreasonable altogether and think nothing of bringing us all into +peril." + +He began to bite his beard again. + +"Do you think the Commissioners will visit us again?" asked Anthony. +"Mr. Fenton was telling me--" + +"It is Mr. Fenton and the like that will bring them down on us if any +will," burst out Mr. FitzHerbert peevishly. "I am as good a Catholic, I +hope, as any in the world; but we can surely live without the sacraments +for a month or two sometimes! But it is this perpetual coming and going +of priests that enrages her Grace and her counsellors. I do not believe +her Grace has any great enmity against us; but she soon will, if men +like Mr. Fenton and Mr. Bassett are for ever harbouring priests and +encouraging them. It is the same in London, I hear; it is the same in +Lancashire; it is the same everywhere. And all the world knows it, and +thinks that we do contemn her Grace by such boldness. All the mischief +came in with that old Bull, _Regnans in Excelsis_, in '69, and--" + +"I beg your pardon, sir," came in a quiet voice from beyond him; and +Robin, looking across, saw Anthony with a face as if frozen. + +"Pooh! pooh!" burst out Mr. Thomas, with an uneasy air. "The Holy +Father, I take it, may make mistakes, as I understand it, in such +matters, as well as any man. Why, a dozen priests have said to me they +thought it inopportune; and--" + +"I do not permit," said Anthony with an air of dignity beyond his years, +"that any man should speak so in my company." + +"Well, well; you are too hot altogether, Mr. Babington. I admire such +zeal indeed, as I do in the saints; but we are not bound to imitate all +that we admire. Say no more, sir; and I will say no more either." + +They rode in silence. + +It was, indeed, one of those matters that were in dispute at that time +amongst the Catholics. The Pope was not swift enough for some, and too +swift for others. He had thundered too soon, said one party, if, indeed, +it was right to thunder at all, and not to wait in patience till the +Queen's Grace should repent herself; and he had thundered not soon +enough, said the other. Whence it may at least be argued that he had +been exactly opportune. Yet it could not be denied that since the day +when he had declared Elizabeth cut off from the unity of the Church and +her subjects absolved from their allegiance--though never, as some +pretended then and have pretended ever since, that a private person +might kill her and do no wrong--ever since that day her bitterness had +increased yearly against her Catholic people, who desired no better than +to serve both her and their God, if she would but permit that to be +possible. + + +II + +It would be an hour later that they bid good-bye to Mr. Thomas +FitzHerbert, high among the hills to the east of the Derwent river; and +when they had seen him ride off towards Wingerworth, rode yet a few +furlongs together to speak of what had been said. + +"He can do nothing, then," said Robin; "not even to give good counsel." + +"I have never heard him speak so before," cried Anthony; "he must be +near mad, I think. It must be his marriage, I suppose." + +"He is full of his own troubles; that is plain enough, without seeking +others. Well, I must bear mine as best I can." + +They were just parting--Anthony to ride back to Dethick, and Robin over +the moors to Matstead, when over a rise in the ground they saw the +heads of three horsemen approaching. It was a wild country that they +were in; there were no houses in sight; and in such circumstances it was +but prudent to remain together until the character of the travellers +should be plain; so the two, after a word, rode gently forward, hearing +the voices of the three talking to one another, in the still air, though +without catching a word. For, as they came nearer the voices ceased, as +if the talkers feared to be overheard. + +They were well mounted, these three, on horses known as Scottish nags, +square-built, sturdy beasts, that could cover forty miles in the day. +They were splashed, too, not the horses only, but the riders, also, as +if they had ridden far, through streams or boggy ground. The men were +dressed soberly and well, like poor gentlemen or prosperous yeomen; all +three were bearded, and all carried arms as could be seen from the flash +of the sun on their hilts. It was plain, too, that they were not rogues +or cutters, since each carried his valise on his saddle, as well as from +their appearance. Our gentlemen, then, after passing them with a salute +and a good-day, were once more about to say good-bye one to the other, +and appoint a time and place to meet again for the hunting of which +Robin had spoken to Marjorie, and, indeed, had drawn rein--when one of +the three strangers was seen to turn his horse and come riding back +after them, while his friends waited. + +The two lads wheeled about to meet him, as was but prudent; but while he +was yet twenty yards away he lifted his hat. He seemed about thirty +years old; he had a pleasant, ruddy face. + +"Mr. Babington, I think, sir," he said. + +"That is my name," said Anthony. + +"I have heard mass in your house, sir," said the stranger. "My name is +Garlick." + +"Why, yes, sir, I remember--from Tideswell. How do you do, Mr. Garlick? +This is Mr. Audrey, of Matstead." + +They saluted one another gravely. + +"Mr. Audrey is a Catholic, too, I think?" + +Robin answered that he was. + +"Then I have news for you, gentlemen. A priest, Mr. Simpson, is with us; +and will say mass at Tansley next Sunday. You would like to speak with +his reverence?" + +"It will give us great pleasure, sir," said Anthony, touching his horse +with his heel. + +"I am bringing Mr. Simpson on his way. He is just fresh from Rheims. And +Mr. Ludlam is to carry him further on Monday," continued Mr. Garlick as +they went forward. + +"Mr. Ludlam?" + +"He is a native of Radbourne, and has but just finished at Oxford.... +Forgive me, sir; I will but just ride forward and tell them." + +The two lads drew rein, seeing that he wished first to tell the others +who they were, before bringing them up; and a strange little thing fell +as Mr. Garlick joined the two. For it happened that by now the sun was +at his setting; going down in a glory of crimson over the edge of the +high moor; and that the three riders were directly in his path from +where the two lads waited. Robin, therefore, looking at them, saw the +three all together on their horses with the circle of the sun about +them, and a great flood of blood-coloured light on every side; the +priest was in the midst of the three, and the two men leaning towards +him seemed to be speaking and as if encouraging him strongly. For an +instant, so strange was the light, so immense the shadows on this side +spread over the tumbled ground up to the lads themselves, so vast the +great vault of illuminated sky, that it seemed to Robin as if he saw a +vision.... Then the strangeness passed, as Mr. Garlick turned away again +to beckon to them; and the boy thought no more of it at that time. + +They uncovered as they rode towards the priest, and bowed low to him as +he lifted his hand with a few words of Latin; and the next instant they +were in talk. + +Mr. Simpson, like his friends, was a youngish man at this time, with a +kind face and great, innocent eyes that seemed to wonder and question. +Mr. Ludlam, too, was under thirty years old, plainly not of gentleman's +birth, though he was courteous and well-mannered. It seemed a great +matter to these three to have fallen in with young Mr. Babington, whose +family was so well-known, and whose own fame as a scholar, as well as an +ardent Catholic, was all over the county. + +Robin said little; he was overshadowed by his friend; but he listened +and watched as the four spoke together, and learned that Mr. Simpson had +been made priest scarcely a month before, and was come from Yorkshire, +which was his own county, to minister in the district of the Peak at +least for awhile. He heard, too, news from Douay, and that the college, +it was thought, might move from there to another place under the +protection of the family of De Guise, since her Grace was very hot +against Douay, whence so many of her troubles proceeded, and was doing +her best to persuade the Governor of the Netherlands to suppress it. +However, said Mr. Simpson, it was not yet done. + +Anthony, too, in his turn gave the news of the county; he spoke of Mr. +Fenton, of the FitzHerberts and others that were safe and discreet +persons; but he said nothing at that time of Mr. Audrey of Matstead, at +which Robin was glad, since his shame deepened on him every hour, and +all the more now that he had met with those three men who rode so +gallantly through the country in peril of liberty or life itself. Nor +did he say anything of the FitzHerberts except that they might be relied +upon. + +"We must be riding," said Garlick at last; "these moors are strange to +me; and it will be dark in half an hour." + +"Will you allow me to be your guide, sir?" asked Anthony of the priest. +"It is all in my road, and you will not be troubled with questions or +answers if you are in my company." + +"But what of your friend, sir?" + +"Oh! Robin knows the country as he knows the flat of his hand. We were +about to separate as we met you." + +"Then we will thankfully accept your guidance, sir," said the priest +gravely. + +An impulse seized upon Robin as he was about to say good-day, though he +was ashamed of it five minutes later as a modest lad would be. Yet he +followed it now; he leapt off his horse and, holding Cecily's rein in +his arm, kneeled on the stones with both knees. + +"Your blessing, sir," he said to the priest. And Anthony eyed him with +astonishment. + + +III + +Robin was moved, as he rode home over the high moors, and down at last +upon the woods of Matstead, in a manner that was new to him, and that he +could not altogether understand. He had met travelling priests before; +indeed, all the priests whose masses he had ever heard, or from whom he +had received the sacraments, were travelling priests who went in peril; +and yet this young man, upon whose consecrated hands the oil was +scarcely yet dry, moved and drew his heart in a manner that he had never +yet known. It was perhaps something in the priest's face that had so +affected him; for there was a look in it of a kind of surprised timidity +and gentleness, as if he wondered at himself for being so foolhardy, and +as if he appealed with that same wonder and surprise to all who looked +on him. His voice, too, was gentle, as if tamed for the seminary and the +altar; and his whole air and manner wholly unlike that of some of the +priests whom Robin knew--loud-voiced, confident, burly men whom you +would have sworn to be country gentlemen or yeomen living on their +estates or farms and fearing to look no man in the face. It was this +latter kind, thought Robin, that was best suited to such a life--to +riding all day through north-country storms, to lodging hardily where +they best could, to living such a desperate enterprise as a priest's +life then was, with prices upon their heads and spies everywhere. It was +not a life for quiet persons like Mr. Simpson, who, surely, would be +better at his books in some college abroad, offering the Holy Sacrifice +in peace and security, and praying for adventurers more hardy than +himself. Yet here was Mr. Simpson just set out upon such an adventure, +of his own free-will and choice, with no compulsion save that of God's +grace. + + * * * * * + +There was yet more than an hour before supper-time when he rode into the +court at last; and Dick Sampson, his own groom, came to take his horse +from him. + +"The master's not been from home to-day, sir," said Dick when Robin +asked of his father. + +"Not been from home?" + +"No, sir--not out of the house, except that he was walking in the +pleasaunce half an hour ago." + +Robin ran up the steps and through the screens to see if his father was +still there; but the little walled garden, so far as he could see it in +the light from the hall windows, was empty; and, indeed, it would be +strange for any man to walk in such a place at such an hour. He +wondered, too, to hear that his father had not been from home; for on +all days, except he were ill, he would be about the estate, here and +there. As he came back to the screens he heard a step going up and down +in the hall, and on looking in met his father face to face. The old man +had his hat on his head, but no cloak on his shoulders, though even with +the fire the place was cold. It was plain that he had been walking up +and down to warm himself. Robin could not make out his face very well, +as he stood with his back to a torch. + +"Where have you been, my lad?" + +"I went to meet Anthony at one of the Dethick farms, sir--John +Merton's." + +"You met no one else?" + +"Yes, sir; Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert was there and dined with us. He rode +with us, too, a little way." And then as he was on the point of speaking +of the priest, he stopped himself; and in an instant knew that never +again must he speak of a priest to his father; his father had already +lost his right to that. His father looked at him a moment, standing with +his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Have you heard anything of a priest that is newly come to these +parts--or coming?" + +"Yes, sir. I hear mass is to be said ... in the district on Sunday." + +"Where is mass to be said?" + +Robin drew along breath, lifted his eyes to his father's and then +dropped them again. + +"Did you hear me, sir? Where is mass to be said?" + +Again Robin lifted and again dropped his eyes. + +"What is the priest's name?" + +Again there was dead silence. For a son, in those days, so to behave +towards his father, was an act of very defiance. Yet the father said +nothing. There the two remained; Robin with his eyes on the ground, +expecting a storm of words or a blow in the face. Yet he knew he could +do no otherwise; the moment had come at last and he must act as he would +be obliged always to act hereafter. + +Matters had matured swiftly in the boy's mind, all unconsciously to +himself. Perhaps it was the timid air of the priest he had met an hour +ago that consummated the process. At least it was so consummated. + +Then his father turned suddenly on his heel; and the son went out +trembling. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +"I will speak to you to-night, sir, after supper," said his father +sharply a second day later, when Robin, meeting his father setting out +before dinner, had asked him to give him an hour's talk. + + * * * * * + +Robin's mind had worked fiercely and intently since the encounter in the +hall. His father had sat silent both at supper and afterwards, and the +next day was the same; the old man spoke no more than was necessary, +shortly and abruptly, scarcely looking his son once in the face, and the +rest of the day they had not met. It was plain to the boy that something +must follow his defiance, and he had prepared all his fortitude to meet +it. Yet the second night had passed and no word had been spoken, and by +the second morning Robin could bear it no longer; he must know what was +in his father's mind. And now the appointment was made, and he would +soon know all. His father was absent from dinner and the boy dined +alone. He learned from Dick Sampson that his father had ridden +southwards. + + * * * * * + +It was not until Robin had sat down nearly half an hour later than +supper-time that the old man came in. The frost was gone; deep mud had +succeeded, and the rider was splashed above his thighs. He stayed at the +fire for his boots to be drawn off and to put on his soft-leather shoes, +while Robin stood up dutifully to await him. Then he came forward, took +his seat without a word, and called for supper. In ominous silence the +meal proceeded, and with the same thunderous air, when it was over, his +father said grace and made his way, followed by his son, into the +parlour behind. He made no motion at first to pour out his wine; then he +helped himself twice and left the jug for Robin. + +Then suddenly he began without moving his head. + +"I wish to know your intentions," he said, with irony so serious that it +seemed gravity. "I cannot flog you or put you to school again, and I +must know how we stand to one another." + +Robin was silent. He had looked at his father once or twice, but now sat +downcast and humble in his place. With his left hand he fumbled, out of +sight, Mr. Maine's pair of beads. His father, for his part, sat with his +feet stretched to the fire, his head propped on his hand, not doing +enough courtesy to his son even to look at him. + +"Do you hear me, sir?" + +"Yes, sir. But I do not know what to say." + +"I wish to know your intentions. Do you mean to thwart and disobey me in +all matters, or in only those that have to do with religion?" + +"I do not wish to thwart or disobey you, sir, in any matters except +where my conscience is touched." (The substance of this answer had been +previously rehearsed, and the latter part of it even verbally.) + +"Be good enough to tell me what you mean by that." + +Robin licked his lips carefully and sat up a little in his chair. + +"You told me, sir, that it was your intention to leave the Church. Then +how can I tell you of what priests are here, or where mass is to be +said? You would not have done so to one who was not a Catholic, six +months ago." + +The man sneered visibly. + +"There is no need," he said. "It is Mr. Simpson who is to say mass +to-morrow, and it is at Tansley that it will be said, at six o'clock in +the morning. If I choose to tell the justices, you cannot prevent it." +(He turned round in a flare of anger.) "Do you think I shall tell the +justices?" + +Robin said nothing. + +"Do you think I shall tell the justices?" roared the old man +insistently. + +"No, sir. Now I do not." + +The other growled gently and sank back. + +"But if you think that I will permit my son to flout and to my face in +my own hall, and not to trust his own father--why, you are immeasurably +mistaken, sir. So I ask you again how far you intend to thwart and +disobey me." + +A kind of despair surged up in the boy's heart--despair at the +fruitlessness of this ironical and furious sort of talk; and with the +despair came boldness. + +"Father, will you let me speak outright, without thinking that I mean to +insult you? I do not; I swear I do not. Will you let me speak, sir?" + +His father growled again a sort of acquiescence, and Robin gathered his +forces. He had prepared a kind of defence that seemed to him reasonable, +and he knew that his father was at least just. They had been friends, +these two, always, in an underground sort of way, which was all that the +relations of father and son in such days allowed. The old man was curt, +obstinate, and even boisterous in his anger; but there was a kindliness +beneath that the boy always perceived--a kindliness which permitted the +son an exceptional freedom of speech, which he used always in the last +resort and which he knew his father loved to hear him use. This, then, +was plainly a legitimate occasion for it, and he had prepared himself to +make the most of it. He began formally: + +"Sir," he said, "you have brought me up in the Old Faith, sent me to +mass, and to the priest to learn my duty, and I have obeyed you always. +You have taught me that a man's duty to God must come before all +else--as our Saviour Himself said, too. And now you turn on me, and bid +me forget all that, and come to church with you.... It is not for me to +say anything to my father about his own conscience; I must leave that +alone. But I am bound to speak of mine when occasion rises, and this is +one of them.... I should be dishonouring and insulting you, sir, if I +did not believe you when you said you would turn Protestant; and a man +who says he will turn Protestant has done so already. It was for this +reason, then, and no other, that I did not answer you the other day; not +because I wish to be disobedient to you, but because I must be obedient +to God. I did not lie to you, as I might have done, and say that I did +not know who the priest was nor where mass was to be said. But I would +not answer, because it is not right or discreet for a Catholic to speak +of these things to those who are not Catholics--" + +"How dare you say I am not a Catholic, sir!" + +"A Catholic, sir, to my mind," said Robin steadily, "is one who holds to +the Catholic Church and to no other. I mean nothing offensive, sir; I +mean what I said I meant, and no more. It is not for me to condemn--" + +"I should think not!" snorted the old man. + +"Well, sir, that is my reason. And further--" + +He stopped, doubtful. + +"Well, sir--what further?" + +"Well, I cannot come to the church with you at Easter." + +His father wheeled round savagely in his chair. + +"Father, hear me out, and then say what you will.... I say I cannot come +with you to church at Easter, because I am a Catholic. But I do not wish +to trouble or disobey you openly. I will go away from home for that +time. Good Mr. Barton will cause no trouble; he wants nothing but peace. +Father, you are not just to me. You have taught me too much, or you have +not given me time enough--" + +Again he broke off, knowing that he had said what he did not mean, but +the old man was on him like a hawk. + +"Not time enough, you say? Well, then--" + +"No, sir; I did not mean that," wailed Robin suddenly. "I do not mean +that I should change if I had a hundred years; I am sure I shall not. +But--" + +"You said, 'Not time enough,'" said the other meditatively. "Perhaps if +I give you time--" + +"Father, I beg of you to forget what I said; I did not mean to say it. +It is not true. But Marjorie said--" + +"Marjorie! What has Marjorie to do with it?" + +Robin found himself suddenly in deep waters. He had plunged and found +that he could not swim. This was the second mistake he had made in +saying what he did not mean.... Again the courage of despair came to +him, and he struck out further. + +"I must tell you of that too, sir," he said. "Mistress Marjorie and I--" + +He stopped, overwhelmed with shame. His father turned full round and +stared at him. + +"Go on, sir." + +Robin seized his glass and emptied it. + +"Well, sir. Mistress Marjorie and I love one another. We are but boy and +girl, sir; we know that--" + +Then his father laughed. It was laughter that was at once hearty and +bitter; and, with it, came the closing of the open door in the boy's +heart. As there came out, after it, sentence after sentence of scorn and +contempt, the bolts, so to say, were shot and the key turned. It might +all have been otherwise if the elder man had been kind, or if he had +been sad or disappointed, or even if he had been merely angry; but the +soreness and misery in the old man's heart--misery at his own acts and +words, and at the outrage he was doing to his own conscience--turned his +judgment bitter, and with that bitterness his son's heart shut tight +against him. + +"But boy and girl!" sneered the man. "A couple of blind puppies, I would +say rather--you with your falcons and mare and your other toys, and the +down on your chin, and your conscience; and she with her white face and +her mother and her linen-parlour and her beads"--(his charity prevailed +so far as to hinder him from more outspoken contempt)--"And you two +babes have been prattling of conscience and prayers together--I make no +doubt, and thinking yourselves Cecilies and Laurences and all the holy +martyrs--and all this without a by-your-leave, I dare wager, from parent +or father, and thinking yourselves man and wife; and you fondling her, +and she too modest to be fondled, and--" + +The plain truth struck him with sudden splendour, at least sufficiently +strong to furnish him with a question. + +"And have you told Mistress Marjorie about your sad rogue of a father?" + +Robin, white with anger, held his lips grimly together and the wrath +blazed in an instant up from the scornful old heart, whose very love was +turned to gall. + +"Tell me, sir--I will have it!" he cried. + +Robin looked at him with such hard fury in his eyes that for a moment +the man winced. Then he recovered himself, and again his anger rose to +the brim. + +"You need not look at me like that, you hound. Tell me, I say!" + +"I will not!" shouted Robin, springing to his feet. + +The old man was up too by now, with all the anger of his son hardened by +his dignity. + +"You will not?" + +"No." + +For a moment the fate of them both still hung in the balance. If, even +at this instant, the father had remembered his love rather than his +dignity, had thought of the past and its happy years, rather than of the +blinding, swollen present; or, on the other side, if the son had but +submitted if only for an hour, and obeyed in order that he might rule +later--the whole course might have run aright, and no hearts have been +broken and no blood shed. But neither would yield. There was the fierce +northern obstinacy in them both; the gentle birth sharpened its edge; +the defiant refusal of the son, the wounding contempt of the father not +for his son only, but for his son's love--these things inflamed the +hearts of both to madness. The father seized his ultimate right, and +struck his son across the face. + +Then the son answered by his only weapon. + +For a sensible pause he stood there, his fresh face paled to chalkiness, +except where the print of five fingers slowly reddened. Then he made a +courteous little gesture, as if to invite his father to sit down; and as +the other did so, slowly and shaking all over, struck at him by careful +and calculated words, delivered with a stilted and pompous air: + +"You have beaten me, sir; so, of course, I obey. Yes, I told Mistress +Marjorie Manners that my father no longer counted himself a Catholic, +and would publicly turn Protestant at Easter, so as to please her Grace +and be in favour with the Court and with the county justices. And I have +told Mr. Babington so as well, and also Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert. It will +spare you the pain, sir, of making any public announcement on the +matter. It is always a son's duty to spare his father pain." + +Then he bowed, wheeled, and went out of the room. + + +II + +Two hours later Robin was still lying completely dressed on his bed in +the dark. + +It was a plain little chamber where he lay, fireless, yet not too cold, +since it was wainscoted from floor to ceiling, and looked out eastwards +upon the pleasaunce, with rooms on either side of it. A couple of +presses sunk in the walls held his clothes and boots; a rush-bottomed +chair stood by the bed; and the bed itself, laid immediately on the +ground, was such as was used in most good houses by all except the +master and mistress, or any sick members of the family--a straw mattress +and a wooden pillow. His bows and arrows, with a pair of dags or +pistols, hung on a rack against the wall at the foot of his bed, and a +little brass cross engraved with a figure of the Crucified hung over it. +It was such a chamber as any son of a house might have, who was a +gentleman and not luxurious. + +A hundred thoughts had gone through his mind since he had flung himself +down here shaking with passion; and these had begun already to repeat +themselves, like a turning wheel, in his head. Marjorie; his love for +her; his despair of that love; his father; all that they had been, one +to the other, in the past; the little, or worse than little, that they +would be, one to the other, in the future; the priest's face as he had +seen it three days ago; what would be done at Easter, what later--all +these things, coloured and embittered now by his own sorrow for his +words to his father, and the knowledge that he had shamed himself when +he should have suffered in silence--these things turned continually in +his head, and he was too young and too simple to extricate one from the +other all at once. + +Things had come about in a manner which yesterday he would not have +thought possible. He had never before spoken so to one to whom he owed +reverence; neither had this one ever treated him so. His father had +stood always to him for uprightness and justice; he had no more +questioned these virtues in his father than in God. Words or acts of +either might be strange or incomprehensible, yet the virtues themselves +remained always beyond a doubt; and now, with the opening of the door +which his father's first decision had accomplished, a crowd of questions +and judgments had rushed in, and a pillar of earth and heaven was shaken +at last.... It is a dreadful day when for the first time to a young man +or maiden, any shadow of God, however unworthy, begins to tremble. + + * * * * * + +He understood presently, however, what an elder man, or a less childish, +would have understood at once--that these things must be dealt with one +by one, and that that which lay nearest to his hand was his own fault. +Even then he fought with his conscience; he told himself that no lad of +spirit could tolerate such insults against his love, to say nothing of +the injustice against himself that had gone before; but, being honest, +he presently inquired of what spirit such a lad would be--not of that +spirit which Marjorie would approve, nor the gentle-eyed priest he had +spoken with.... + +Well, the event was certain with such as Robin, and he was presently +standing at the door of his room, his boots drawn off and laid aside, +listening, with a heart beating in his ears to hinder him, for any sound +from beneath. He did not know whether his father were abed or not. If +not, he must ask his pardon at once. + +He went downstairs at last, softly, to the parlour, and peeped in. All +was dark, except for the glimmer from the stove, and his heart felt +lightened. Then, as he was cold with his long vigil outside his bed, he +stirred the embers into a blaze and stood warming himself. + +How strange and passionless, he thought, looked this room, after the +tempest that had raged in it just now. The two glasses stood there--his +own not quite empty--and the jug between them. His father's chair was +drawn to the table, as if he were still sitting in it; his own was flung +back as he had pushed it from him in his passion. There was an old print +over the stove at which he looked presently--it had been his mother's, +and he remembered it as long as his life had been--it was of Christ +carrying His cross. + +His shame began to increase on him. How wickedly he had answered, with +every word a wound! He knew that the most poisonous of them all were +false; he had known it even while he spoke them; it was not to curry +favour with her Grace that his father had lapsed; it was that his temper +was tried beyond bearing by those continual fines and rebuffs; the old +man's patience was gone--that was all. And he, his son, had not said one +word of comfort or strength; he had thought of himself and his own +wrongs, and being reviled he had reviled again.... + +There stood against the wall between the windows a table and an oaken +desk that held the estate-bills and books; and beside the desk were laid +clean sheets of paper, an ink-pot, a pounce-box, and three or four +feather pens. It was here that he wrote, being newly from school, at his +father's dictation, or his father sometimes wrote himself, with pain and +labour, the few notices or letters that were necessary. So he went to +this and sat down at it; he pondered a little; then he wrote a single +line of abject regret. + +"I ask your pardon and God's, sir, for the wicked words I said before I +left the parlour. R." He folded this and addressed it with the proper +superscription; and left it lying there. + + +III + +It was a strange ride that he had back from Tansley next morning after +mass. + +Dick Sampson had met him with the horses in the stable-court at Matstead +a little after four o'clock in the morning; and together they had ridden +through the pitch darkness, each carrying a lantern fastened to his +stirrup. So complete was the darkness, however, and so small and +confined the circle of light cast by the tossing light, that, for all +they saw, they might have been riding round and round in a garden. Now +trees showed grim and towering for an instant, then gone again; now +their eyes were upon the track, the pools, the rugged ground, the soaked +meadow-grass; half a dozen times the river glimmered on their right, +turbid and forbidding. Once there shone in the circle of light the eyes +of some beast--pig or stag; seen and vanished again. + +But the return journey was another matter; for they needed no lanterns, +and the dawn rose steadily overhead, showing all that they passed in +ghostly fashion, up to final solidity. + +It resembled, in fact, the dawn of Faith in a soul. + +First from the darkness outlines only emerged, vast and sinister, of +such an appearance that it was impossible to tell their proportions or +distances. The skyline a mile away, beyond the Derwent, might have been +the edge of a bank a couple of yards off; the glimmering pool on the +lower meadow path might be the lighted window of a house across the +valley. There succeeded to outlines a kind of shaded tint, all worked in +gray like a print, clear enough to distinguish tree from boulder and sky +from water, yet not clear enough to show the texture of anything. The +third stage was that in which colours began to appear, yet flat and +dismal, holding, it seemed, no light, yet reflecting it; and all in an +extraordinary cold clearness. Nature seemed herself, yet struck to +dumbness. No breeze stirred the twigs overhead or the undergrowth +through which they rode. Once, as the two, riding a little apart, turned +suddenly together, up a ravine into thicker woods, they came upon a herd +of deer, who stared on them without any movement that the eye could see. +Here a stag stood with two hinds beside him; behind, Robin saw the backs +and heads of others that lay still. Only the beasts kept their eyes upon +them, as they went, watching, as if it were a picture only that went by. +So, by little and little, the breeze stirred like a waking man; cocks +crew from over the hills one to the other; dogs barked far away, till +the face of the world was itself again, and the smoke from Matstead rose +above the trees in front. + +Robin had ridden in the dawn an hundred times before; yet never before +had he so perceived that strange deliberateness and sleep of the world; +and he had ridden, too, perhaps twenty times at such an hour, with his +father beside him, after mass on some such occasion. Yet it seemed to +him this time that it was the mass which he had seen, and his own +solitariness, that had illuminated his eyes. It was dreadful to him--and +yet it threw him more than ever on himself and God--that his father +would ride with him so no more. Henceforward he would go alone, or with +a servant only; he would, alone, go up to the door of house or barn and +rap four times with his riding-whip; alone he would pass upstairs +through the darkened house to the shrouded room, garret or bed-chamber, +where the group was assembled, all in silence; where presently a dark +figure would rise and light the pair of candles, and then, himself a +ghost, vest there by their light, throwing huge shadows on wainscot and +ceiling as his arms went this way and that; and then, alone of all that +were of blood-relationship to him, he would witness the Holy +Sacrifice.... + +How long that would be so, he did not know. Something surely must happen +that would prevent it. Or, at least, some day, he would ride so with +Marjorie, whom he had seen this morning across the dusky candle-lit +gloom, praying in a corner; or, maybe, with her would entertain the +priest, and open the door to the worshippers who streamed in, like bees +to a flower-garden, from farm and manor and village. He could not for +ever ride alone from Matstead and meet his father's silence. + +One thing more, too, had moved him this morning; and that, the sight of +the young priest at the altar whom he had met on the moor. Here, more +than ever, was the gentle priestliness and innocency apparent. He stood +there in his red vestments; he moved this way and that; he made his +gestures; he spoke in undertones, lit only by the pair of wax-candles, +more Levitical than ever in such a guise, yet more unsuited than ever to +such exterior circumstances. Surely this man should say mass for ever; +yet surely never again ride over the moors to do it, amidst enemies. He +was of the strong castle and the chamber, not of the tent and the +battle.... And yet it was of such soldiers as these, as well as of the +sturdy and the strong, that Christ's army was made. + + * * * * * + +It was in broad daylight, though under a weeping sky, that Robin rode +into the court at Matstead. He shook the rain from his cloak within the +screens, and stamped to get the mud away; and, as he lifted his hat to +shake it, his father came in from the pleasaunce. + +Robin glanced up at him, swift and shy, half smiling, expecting a word +or a look. His father must surely have read his little letter by now, +and forgiven him. But the smile died away again, as he met the old man's +eyes; they were as hard as steel; his clean-shaven lips were set like a +trap, and, though he looked at his son, it seemed that he did not see +him. He passed through the screens and went down the steps into the +court. + +The boy's heart began to beat so as near to sicken him after his long +fast and his ride. He told himself that his father could not have been +into the parlour yet, though he knew, even while he thought it, that +this was false comfort. He stood there an instant, waiting; hoping that +even now his father would call to him; but the strong figure passed +resolutely on out of sight. + +Then the boy went into the hall, and swiftly through it. There on the +desk in the window lay the pen he had flung down last night, but no +more; the letter was gone; and, as he turned away, he saw lying among +the wood-ashes of the cold stove a little crumpled ball. He stooped and +drew it out. It was his letter, tossed there after the reading; his +father had not taken the pains to keep it safe, nor even to destroy it. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +The company was already assembled both within and without Padley, when +Robin rode up from the riverside, on a fine, windy morning, for the +sport of the day. Perhaps a dozen horses stood tethered at the entrance +to the little court, with a man or two to look after them, for the +greater part of their riders were already within; and a continual coming +and going of lads with dogs; falconers each with his cadge, or +three-sided frame on which sat the hawks; a barking of hounds, a +screaming of birds, a clatter of voices and footsteps in the court--all +this showed that the boy was none too early. A man stepped forward to +take his mare and his hawks; and Robin slipped from his saddle and went +in. + + * * * * * + +Padley Hall was just such a house as would serve a wealthy gentleman who +desired a small country estate with sufficient dignity and not too many +responsibilities. It stood upon the side of the hill, well set-up above +the damps of the valley, yet protected from the north-easterly winds by +the higher slopes, on the tops of which lay Burbage Moor, where the +hawking was to be held. On the south, over the valley, stood out the +modest hall and buttery (as, indeed, they stand to this day), with a +door between them, well buttressed in two places upon the falling +ground, in one by a chimney, in the other by a slope of masonry; and +behind these buildings stood the rest of the court, the stables, the +wash-house, the bake-house and such like, below; and, above, the +sleeping rooms for the family and the servants. On the first floor, +above the buttery and the hall, were situated the ladies' parlour and +chapel; for this, at least, Padley had, however little its dignity in +other matters, that it retained its chapel served in these sorrowful +days not, as once, by a chaplain, but by whatever travelling priest +might be there. + + * * * * * + +Robin entered through the great gate on the east side--a dark entrance +kept by a porter who saluted him--and rode through into the court; and +here, indeed, was the company; for out of the windows of the low hall on +his left came a babble of tongues, while two or three gentlemen with +pots in their hands saluted him from the passage door, telling him that +Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert was within. Mr. Fenton was one of these, come +over from North Lees, where he had his manor, a brisk, middle-aged man, +dressed soberly and well, with a pointed beard and pleasant, dancing +eyes. + +"And Mr. John, too, came last night," he said; "but he will not hawk +with us. He is ridden from London on private matters." + +It was an exceedingly gay sight on which Robin looked as he turned into +the hall. It was a low room, ceiled in oak and wainscoted half-way up, a +trifle dark, since it was lighted only by one or two little windows on +either side, yet warm and hospitable looking; with a great fire burning +in a chimney on the south side, and perhaps a dozen and a half persons +sitting over their food and drink, since they were dining early to-day +to have the longer time for sport. + +A voice hailed him as he came in; and he went up to pay his respects to +Mr. John FitzHerbert, a tall man, well past middle-age, who sat with his +hat on his head, at the centre of the high table, with the arms of Eyre +and FitzHerbert beneath the canopy, all emblazoned, to do the honours +of the day. + +"You are late, sir, you are late!" he cried out genially. "We are just +done." + +Robin saluted him. He liked this man, though he did not know him very +well; for he was continually about the country, now in London, now at +Norbury, now at Swinnerton, always occupied with these endless matters +of fines and recusancy. + +Robin saluted him then, and said a word or two; bowed to Mr. Thomas, his +son, who came up to speak with him; and then looked for Marjorie. She +sat there, at the corner of the table, with Mrs. Fenton at one side, and +an empty seat on the other. Robin immediately sat down in it, to eat his +dinner, beginning with the "gross foods," according to the English +custom. There was a piece of Christmas brawn to-day, from a pig fattened +on oats and peas, and hardened by being lodged (while he lived) on a +boarded floor; all this was told Robin across the table with +particularity, while he ate it, and drank, according to etiquette, a cup +of bastard. He attended to all this zealously, while never for an +instant was he unaware of the girl. + +They tricked their elders very well, these two innocent ones. You would +have sworn that Robin looked for another place and could not see one, +you would have sworn that they were shy of one another, and spoke +scarcely a dozen sentences. Yet they did very well each in the company +of the other; and Robin, indeed, before he had finished his partridge, +had conveyed to her that there was news that he had, and must give to +her before the day was out. She looked at him with enough dismay in her +face for him at least to read it; for she knew by his manner that it +would not be happy news. + +So, too, when the fruit was done and dinner was over (for they had no +opportunity to speak at any length), again you would have sworn that the +last idea in his mind, as in hers, was that he should be the one to help +her to her saddle. Yet he did so; and he fetched her hawk for her, and +settled her reins in her hand; and presently he on one side of her, with +Mr. Fenton on the other side, were riding up through Padley chase; and +the talk and the laughter went up too. + + +II + +Up on the high moors, in the frank-chase, here indeed was a day to make +sad hearts rejoice. The air was soft, as if spring were come before his +time; and in the great wind that blew continually from the south-west, +bearing the high clouds swiftly against the blue, ruffling the stiff +heather-twigs and bilberry beneath--here was wine enough for any +mourners. Before them, as they went--two riding before, with falconers +on either side a little behind and the lads with the dogs beside them, +and the rest in a silent line some twenty yards to the rear--stretched +the wide, flat moor like a tumbled table-cloth, broken here and there by +groups of wind-tossed beech and oak, backed by the tall limestone crags +like pillar-capitals of an upper world; with here and there a little +shallow quarry whence marble had been taken for Derby. But more lovely +than all were the valleys, seen from here, as great troughs up whose +sides trooped the leafless trees--lit by the streams that threw back the +sunlit sky from their bosoms; with here a mist of smoke blown all about +from a village out of sight, here the shadow of a travelling cloud that +fled as swift as the wind that drove it, extinguishing the flash of +water only to release it again, darkening a sweep of land only to make +the sunlight that followed it the more sweet. + +Yet the two saw little of this, dear and familiar as they found it; +since, first they rode together, and next, as it should be with young +hearts, the sport presently began and drove all else away. + +The sport was done in this way: + +The two that rode in front selected each from the cadge one of his own +falcons (it was peregrines that were used at the beginning of the day, +since they were first after partridges), and so rode, carrying his +falcon on his wrist, hooded, belled, and in the leash, ready to cast +off. Immediately before them went a lad with a couple of dogs to nose +the game--these also in a leash until they stiffened. Then the lad +released them and stepped softly back, while the riders moved on at a +foot's-pace, and the spaniels behind rose on their hind legs, choked by +the chain, whimpering, fifty yards in the rear. Slowly the dogs +advanced, each a frozen model of craft and blood-lust, till an instant +afterwards, with a whir and a chattering like a broken clock, the covey +whirled from the thick growth underfoot, and flashed away northwards; +and, a moment later, up went the peregrines behind them. Then, indeed, +it was _sauve qui peut_, for the ground was full of holes here and +there, though there were grass-stretches as well on which all rode with +loose rein, the two whose falcons were sprung always in front, according +to custom, and the rest in a medley behind. Away then went the birds, +pursued and pursuers, till, like a falling star the falcon stooped, and +then, maybe, the other a moment later, down upon the quarry; and a +minute later there was the falcon back again shivering with pride and +ecstasy, or all ruffle-feathered with shame, back on his master's wrist, +and another torn partridge, or maybe two, in the bottom of the lad's +bag; and arguments went full pelt, and cries, and sometimes sharp words, +and faults were found, and praise was given, and so, on for another +pair. + +It was but natural that Robin and Marjorie should compete one against +the other, for they were riding together and talked together. So +presently Mr. Thomas called to them, and beckoned them to their places. +Robin set aside Agnes on to the cadge and chose Magdalen, and Marjorie +chose Sharpie. The array was set, and all moved forward. + +It was a short chase and a merry one. Two birds rose from the heather +and flew screaming, skimming low, as from behind them moved on the +shadows of death, still as clouds, with great noiseless sweeps of +sickle-shaped wings. Behind came the gallopers; Marjorie on her black +horse, Robin on Cecily, seeming to compete, yet each content if either +won, each, maybe--or at least Marjorie--desiring that the other should +win. And the wind screamed past them as they went. + +Then came the stoops--together as if fastened by one string--faultless +and exquisite; and, as the two rode up and drew rein, there, side by +side on the windy turf, two fierce statues of destiny--cruel-eyed, +blood-stained on the beaks, resolute and suspicious--eyed them +motionless, the claws sunk deeply through back and head--awaiting +recapture. + +Marjorie turned swiftly to the boy as he leaped off. + +"In the chapel," she said, "at Padley." + +Robin stared at her. Then he understood and nodded his head, as Mr. +Thomas rode up, his beard all blown about by the wind, breathless but +congratulatory. + + +III + +It fell on Robin's mind with a certain heaviness and reproach that it +should have been she who should have carried in her head all day the +unknown news that he was to give her and he who should have forgotten +it. He understood then a little better of all that he must be to her, +since, as he turned to her (his head full of hawks, and the glory of the +shouting wind, and every thought of Faith and father clean blown away), +it was to her mind that the under-thought had leapt, that here was their +first, and perhaps their last, chance of speaking in private. + +It was indeed their last chance, for the sun already stood over +Chapel-le-Frith far away to the south-west; and they must begin their +circle to return, in which the ladies should fly their merlins after +larks, and there was no hope henceforth for Robin. Henceforth she rode +with Mrs. Fenton and two or three more, while the gentlemen who loved +sport more than courtesy, turned to the left over the broken ground to +work back once more after partridges. And Robin dared no more ride with +his love, for fear that his company all day with her should be marked. + + * * * * * + +It was within an hour of sunset that Robin, riding ahead, having lost a +hawk and his hat, having fallen into a bog-hole, being one mask of mud +from head to foot, slid from his horse into Dick's hands and demanded if +the ladies were back. + +"Yes, sir; they are back half an hour ago. They are in the parlour." + +Robin knew better. "I shall be riding in ten minutes," he said; "give +the mare a mouthful." + +He limped across the court, and looking behind him to see if any saw, +and finding the court at that instant empty, ran up, as well as he +could, the stone staircase that rose from the outside to the chapel +door. It was unlatched. He pushed it open and went in. + + * * * * * + +It was a brave thing that the FitzHerberts did in keeping such a place +at all, since the greatest Protestant fool in the valley knew what the +little chamber was that had the angels carved on the beam-ends, and the +piscina in the south wall. Windows looked out every way; through those +on the south could be seen now the darkening valley and the sunlit +hills, and, yet more necessary, the road by which any travellers from +the valley must surely come. Within, too, scarcely any pains were taken +to disguise the place. It was wainscoted from roof to floor--veiled, +floored and walled in oak. A great chest stood beneath the little east +window of two lights, that cried "Altar" if any chest ever did so. A +great press stood against the wooden screen that shut the room from the +ladies' parlour next door; filled in three shelves with innocent linen, +for this was the only disguise that the place stooped to put on. You +could not swear that mass was said there, but you could swear that it +was a place in which mass would very suitably be said. A couple of +benches were against the press, and three or four chairs stood about the +floor. + +Robin saw her against the light as soon as he came in. She was still in +her blue riding-dress, with the hood on her shoulders, and held her whip +in her hand; but he could see no more of her head than the paleness of +her face and the gleam on her black hair. + +"Well, then?" she whispered sharply; and then: "Why, what a state you +are in!" + +"It's nothing," said Robin. "I rolled in a bog-hole." + +She looked at him anxiously. + +"You are not hurt?... Sit down at least." + +He sat down stiffly, and she beside him, still watching to see if he +were the worse for his falling. He took her hand in his. + +"I am not fit to touch you," he said. + +"Tell me the news; tell me quickly." + +So he told her; of the wrangle in the parlour and what had passed +between his father and him; of his own bitterness; and his letter, and +the way in which the old man had taken it. + +"He has not spoken to me since," he said, "except in public before the +servants. Both nights after supper he has sat silent and I beside him." + +"And you have not spoken to him?" she asked quickly. + +"I said something to him after supper on Sunday, and he made no answer. +He has done all his writing himself. I think it is for him to speak now. +I should only anger him more if I tried it again." + +She sighed suddenly and swiftly, but said nothing. Her hand lay passive +in his, but her face was turned now to the bright southerly window, and +he could see her puzzled eyes and her down-turned, serious mouth. She +was thinking with all her wits, and, plainly, could come to no +conclusion. + +She turned to him again. + +"And you told him plainly that you and I ... that you and I--" + +"That you and I loved one another? I told him plainly. And it was his +contempt that angered me." + +She sighed again. + + * * * * * + +It was a troublesome situation in which these two children found +themselves. Here was the father of one of them that knew, yet not the +parents of the other, who should know first of all. Neither was there +any promise of secrecy and no hope of obtaining it. If she should not +tell her parents, then if the old man told them, deception would be +charged against her; and if she should tell them, perhaps he would not +have done so, and so all be brought to light too soon and without cause. +And besides all this there were the other matters, heavy enough before, +yet far more heavy now--matters of their hopes for the future, the +complications with regard to the Religion, what Robin should do, what he +should not do. + +So they sat there silent, she thinking and he waiting upon her thought. + +She sighed again and turned to him her troubled eyes. + +"My Robin," she said, "I have been thinking so much about you, and I +have feared sometimes--" + +She stopped herself, and he looked for her to finish. She drew her hand +away and stood up. + +"Oh! it is miserable!" she cried. "And all might have been so happy." + +The tears suddenly filled her eyes so that they shone like flowers in +dew. + +He stood up, too, and put his muddy arm about her shoulders. (She felt +so slight and slender.) + +"It will be happy," he said. "What have you been fearing?" + +She shook her head and the tears ran down. + +"I cannot tell you yet.... Robin, what a holy man that travelling priest +must be, who said mass on Sunday." + +The lad was bewildered at her swift changes of thought, for he did not +yet see the chain on which they hung. He strove to follow her. + +"It seemed so to me too," he said. "I think I have never seen--" + +"It seemed so to you too," she cried. "Why, what do you know of him?" + +He was amazed at her vehemence. She had drawn herself clear of his arm +and was looking at him full in the face. + +"I met him on the moor," he said. "I had some talk with him. I got his +blessing." + +"You got his blessing! Why, so did I, after the mass, when you were +gone." + +"Then that should join us more closely than ever," he said. + +"In Heaven, perhaps, but on earth--" She checked herself again. "Tell me +what you thought of him, Robin." + +"I thought it was strange that such a man as that should live such a +rough life. If he were in the seminary now, safe at Douay--" + +She seemed a shade paler, but her eyes did not flicker. + +"Yes," she said. "And you thought--?" + +"I thought that it was not that kind of man who should fare so hardly. +If it were a man like John Merton, who is accustomed to such things, or +a man like me--" + +Again he stopped; he did not know why. But it was as if she had cried +out, though she neither spoke nor moved. + +"You thought that, did you, Robin?" she said presently, never moving her +eyes from his face. "I thought so, too." + +"But I do not know why we are talking about Mr. Simpson," said the lad. +"There are other affairs more pressing." + +"I am not sure," said she. + +"Marjorie, my love, what are you thinking about?" + +She had turned her eyes and was looking out through the little window. +Outside the red sunlight still lay on the crags and slopes beyond the +deep valley beneath them, and her face was bright in the reflected +brightness. Yet he thought he had never seen her look so serious. She +turned her eyes back to him as he spoke. + +"I am thinking of a great many things," she said. "I am thinking of the +Faith and of sorrow and of love." + +"My love, what do you mean?" + +Suddenly she made a swift movement towards him and took him by the +lapels. He could see her face close beneath his, yet it was in shadow +again, and he could make out of it no more than the shadows of mouth and +eyes. + +"Robin," she said, "I cannot tell you unless God tells you Himself. I am +told that I am too scrupulous sometimes.... I do not know what I think, +nor what is right, nor what are fancies.... But ... but I know that I +love you with all my heart ... and ... and that I cannot bear--" + +Then her face was on his breast in a passion of weeping, and his arms +were round her, and his lips on her hair. + + +IV + +Dick found his master a poor travelling companion as they rode home. He +made a few respectful remarks as to the sport of the day, but he was +answered by a wandering eye and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Mr. Robin +rode loosely and heavily. Three or four times his mare stumbled (and no +wonder, after all that she had gone through), and he jerked her +savagely. + +Then Dick tried another tack and began to speak of the company, but with +no greater success. He discoursed on the riding of Mrs. Fenton, and the +peregrine of Mr. Thomas, who had distinguished herself that day, and he +was met by a lack-lustre eye once more. + +Finally he began to speak of the religious gossip of the +countryside--how it was said that another priest, a Mr. Nelson, had been +taken, in London, as Mr. Maine had been in Cornwall; that, it was said +again, priests would have to look to their lives in future, and not only +to their liberty; how the priest, Mr. Simpson, was said to be a native +of Yorkshire, and how he was ridden northwards again, still with Mr. +Ludlam. And here he met with a little more encouragement. Mr. Robin +asked where was Mr. Simpson gone to, and Dick told him he did not know, +but that he would be back again by Easter, it was thought, or, if not, +another priest would be in the district. Then he began to gossip of Mr. +Ludlam; how a man had told him that his cousin's wife thought that Mr. +Ludlam was to go abroad to be made priest himself, and that perhaps Mr. +Garlick would go too. + +"That is the kind of priest we want, sir," said Dick. + +"Eh?" + +"That is the kind of priest we want, sir," repeated Dick solemnly. "We +should do better with natives than foreigners. We want priests who know +the county and the ways of the people--and men too, I think, sir, who +can ride and know something of sport, and can talk of it. I told Mr. +Simpson, sir, of the sport we were to have to-day, and he seemed to care +nothing about it!" + +Robin sighed aloud. + +"I suppose so," he said. + +"Mr. John looked well, sir," pursued Dick, and proceeded to speak at +length of the FitzHerbert troubles, and the iniquities of the Queen's +Grace. He was such a man as was to be found throughout all England +everywhere at this time--a man whose religion was a part of his +politics, and none the less genuine for that. He was a shrewd man in his +way, with the simplicity which belongs to such shrewdness; he disliked +the new ways which he experienced chiefly in the towns, and put them +down, not wholly without justice, to the change of which religion formed +an integral part; he hated the beggars and would gladly have gone to see +one flogged; and he disliked the ministers and their sermons and their +"prophesyings" with all the healthy ardour of prejudice. Once in the +year did Dick approach the sacraments, and a great business he made of +it, being unusually morose before them and almost indecently boisterous +after them. He was feudal to the very heart of him; and it was his +feudality that made him faithful to his religion as well as to his +masters, for either of which he would resolutely have died. And what in +the world he would do when he discovered, at Easter, that the objects of +his fidelity were to take opposite courses, Robin could not conceive. + +As they rode in at last, Robin, who had fallen silent again after Dick's +last piece of respectful vehemence, suddenly beat his own leg with his +whip and uttered an inaudible word. It seemed to Dick that the young +master had perceived clearly that which plainly had been worrying him +all the way home, and that he did not like it. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +Mr. Manners sat in his parlour ten days after the beginning of Lent, +full of his Sunday dinner and of perplexing thoughts all at once. He had +eaten well and heartily after his week of spare diet, and then, while in +high humour with all the world, first his wife and then his daughter had +laid before him such revelations that all the pleasure of digestion was +gone. It was but three minutes ago that Marjorie had fled from him in a +torrent of tears, for which he could not see himself responsible, since +he had done nothing but make the exclamations and comments that should +be expected of a father in such a case. + +The following were the points for his reflection--to begin with those +that touched him less closely. + +First that his friend Mr. Audrey, whom he had always looked upon with +reverence and a kind of terror because of his hotness in matters of +politics and religion, had capitulated to the enemy and was to go to +church at Easter. Mr. Manners himself had something of timidity in his +nature: he was conservative certainly, and practised, when he could +without bringing himself into open trouble, the old religion in which he +had been brought up. He, like the younger generation, had been educated +at Derby Grammar School, and in his youth had sat with his parents in +the nave of the old Cluniac church of St. James to hear mass. He had +then entered his father's office in Derby, about the time that the +Religious Houses had fallen, and had transferred the scene of his +worship to St. Peter's. At Queen Mary's accession, he had stood, with +mild but genuine enthusiasm, in his lawyer's gown, in the train of the +sheriff who proclaimed her in Derby market-place; and stood in the +crowd, with corresponding dismay, six years later to shout for Queen +Elizabeth. Since that date, for the first eleven years he had gone, as +did other Catholics, to his parish church secretly, thankful that there +was no doubt as to the priesthood of his parson, to hear the English +prayers; and then, to do him justice, though he heard with something +resembling consternation the decision from Rome that compromise must +cease and that, henceforth, all true Catholics must withdraw themselves +from the national worship, he had obeyed without even a serious moment +of consideration. He had always feared that it might be so, +understanding that delay in the decision was only caused by the hope +that even now the breach might not be final or complete; and so was +better prepared for the blow when it came. Since that time he had heard +mass when he could, and occasionally even harboured priests, urged +thereto by his wife and daughter; and, for the rest, still went into +Derby for three or four days a week to carry on his lawyer's business, +with Mr. Biddell his partner, and had the reputation of a sound and +careful man without bigotry or passion. + +It was, then, a shock to his love of peace and serenity, to hear that +yet another Catholic house had fallen, and that Mr. Audrey, one of his +clients, could no longer be reckoned as one of his co-religionists. + +The next point for his reflection was that Robin was refusing to follow +his father's example; the third, that somebody must harbour the boy over +Easter, and that, in his daughter's violently expressed opinion, and +with his wife's consent, he, Thomas Manners, was the proper person to do +it. Last, that it was plain that there was something between his +daughter and this boy, though what that was he had been unable to +understand. Marjorie had flown suddenly from the room just as he was +beginning to put his questions. + +It is no wonder, then, that his peace of mind was gone. Not only were +large principles once more threatened--considerations of religion and +loyalty, but also those small and intimate principles which, so far more +than great ones, agitate the mind of the individual. He did not wish to +lose a client; yet neither did he wish to be unfriendly to a young +confessor for the faith. Still less did he wish to lose his daughter, +above all to a young man whose prospects seemed to be vanishing. He +wondered whether it would be prudent to consult Mr. Biddell on the +point.... + + * * * * * + +He was a small and precise man in his body and face, as well as in his +dress; his costume was, of course, of black; but he went so far as to +wear black buckles, too, on his shoes, and a black hilt on his sword. +His face was little and anxious; his eyebrows were perpetually arched, +as if in appeal, and he was accustomed, when in deep thought, to move +his lips as if in a motion of tasting. So, then, he sat before his fire +to-day after dinner, his elbow on the table where his few books lay, his +feet crossed before him, his cup of drink untouched at his side; and +meantime he tasted continually with his lips, as if better to appreciate +the values and significances of the points for his consideration. + + * * * * * + +It would be about half an hour later that the door opened once more and +Marjorie came in again. + +She was in her fine dress to-day--fine, that is, according to the +exigencies of the time and place, though sober enough if for a +town-house--in a good blue silk, rather dark, with a little ruff, with +lace ruffles at her wrists, and a quilted petticoat, and silver +buckles. For she was a gentleman's daughter, quite clearly, and not a +yeoman's, and she must dress to her station. Her face was very pale and +quite steady. She stood opposite her father. + +"Father," she said, "I am very sorry for having behaved like a goose. +You were quite right to ask those questions, and I have come back to +answer them." + +He had ceased tasting as she came in. He looked at her timidly and yet +with an attempt at severity. He knew what was due from him as a father. +But for the present he had forgotten what questions they were; his mind +had been circling so wildly. + +"You are right to come back," he said, "you should not have left me so." + +"I am very sorry," she said again. + +"Well, then--you tell me that Mr. Robin has nowhere else to go." + +She flushed a little. + +"He has ten places to go to. He has plenty of friends. But none have the +right that we have. He is a neighbour; it was to me, first of all, that +he told the trouble." + +Then he remembered. + +"Sit down," he said. "I must understand much better first. I do not +understand why he came to you first. Why not, if he must come to this +house at all--why not to me? I like the lad; he knows that well enough." + +He spoke with an admirable dignity, and began to feel more happy in +consequence. + +She had sat down as he told her, on the other side of the table; but he +could not see her face. + +"It would have been better if he had, perhaps," she said. "But--" + +"Yes? What 'But' is that?" + +Then she faced him, and her eyes were swimming. + +"Father, he told me first because he loves me, and because I love him." + +He sat up. This was speaking outright what she had only hinted at +before. She must have been gathering her resolution to say this, while +she had been gone. Perhaps she had been with her mother. In that case he +must be cautious.... + +"You mean--" + +"I mean just what I say. We love one another, and I am willing to be his +wife if he desires it--and with your permission. But--" + +He waited for her to go on. + +"Another 'But'!" he said presently, though with increasing mildness. + +"I do not think he will desire it after a while. And ... and I do not +know what I wish. I am torn in two." + +"But you are willing?" + +"I pray for it every night," she cried piteously. "And every morning I +pray that it may not be so." + +She was staring at him as if in agony, utterly unlike what he had looked +for in her. He was completely bewildered. + +"I do not understand one word--" + +Then she threw herself at his knees and seized his hands; her face was +all torn with pain. + +"And I cannot explain one word.... Father, I am in misery. You must pray +for me and have patience with me.... I must wait ... I must wait and see +what God wishes." + +"Now, now...." + +"Father, you will trust me, will you not?" + +"Listen to me. You must tell me thus. Do you love this boy?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"And you have told him so? He asked you, I mean?" + +"Yes." + +He put her hands firmly from his knee. + +"Then you must marry him, if matters can be arranged. It is what I +should wish. But I do not know--" + +"Father, you do not understand--you do not understand. I tell you I am +willing enough, if he wishes it ... if he wishes it." + +Again she seized his hands and held them. And again bewilderment came +down on him like a cloud. + +"Father! you must trust me. I am willing to do everything that I ought." +(She was speaking firmly and confidently now.) "If he wishes to marry +me, I will marry him. I love him dearly.... But you must say nothing to +him, not one word. My mother agrees with this. She would have told you +herself; but I said that I would--that I must be brave.... I must learn +to be brave.... I can tell you no more." + +He lifted her hands and stood up. + +"I see that I understand nothing that you say after all," he said with a +fine fatherly dignity. "I must talk with your mother." + + +II + +He found his wife half an hour later in the ladies' parlour, which he +entered with an air as of nothing to say. With the same air of +disengagement he made sure that Marjorie was nowhere in the room, and +presently sat down. + +Mrs. Manners was well past her prime. She was over forty years old and +looked over fifty, though she retained the air of distinction which +Marjorie had derived from her; but her looks belied her, and she had not +one tithe of the subtlety and keenness of her daughter. She was, in +fact, more suited to be wife to her husband than mother to her daughter. + +"You have come about the maid," she said instantly, with disconcerting +penetration and frankness. "Well, I know no more than you. She will tell +me nothing but what she has told you. She has some fiddle-faddle in her +head, as maids will, but she will have her way with us, I suppose." + +She drew her needle through the piece of embroidery which she permitted +to herself for an hour on Sundays, knotted the thread and bit it off. +Then she regarded her husband. + +"I.... I will have no fiddle-faddle in such a matter," he said +courageously. "Maids did not rule their parents when I was a boy; they +obeyed them or were beaten." + +His wife laughed shortly; and began to thread her needle again. + +He began to explain. The match was in all respects suitable. Certainly +there were difficulties, springing from the very startling events at +Matstead, and it well might be that a man who would do as Mr. Audrey had +done (or, rather, proposed to do) might show obstinacy in other +directions too. Therefore there was no hurry; the two were still very +young, and it certainly would be wiser to wait for any formal betrothal +until Robin's future disclosed itself. But no action of Mr. Audrey's +need delay the betrothal indefinitely; if need were, he, Mr. Manners, +would make proper settlements. Marjorie was an only daughter; in fact, +she was in some sort an heiress. The Manor would be sufficient for them +both. As to any other difficulties--any of the maidenly fiddle-faddle of +which his wife had spoken--this should not stand in the way for an +instant. + +His wife laughed again in the same exclamatory manner, when he had done +and sat stroking his knees. + +"Why, you understand nothing about it, Mr. Manners," she said, "Did the +maid not tell you she would marry him, if he wished it? She told me so." + +"Then what is the matter?" he asked. + +"I know no more than you." + +"Does he not wish it?" + +"She says so." + +"Then--" + +"Yes, that is what I say. And yet that says nothing. There is something +more." + +"Ask her." + +"I have asked her. She bids me wait, as she bids you. It is no good, Mr. +Manners. We must wait the maid's time." + +He sat, breathing audibly through his nose. + + * * * * * + +These two were devoted to their daughter in a manner hardly to be +described. She was the only one left to them; for the others, of whom +two had been boys, had died in infancy or childhood; and, in the event, +Marjorie had absorbed the love due to them all. She was a strain higher +than themselves, thought her parents, and so pride in her was added to +love. The mother had made incredible sacrifices, first to have her +educated by a couple of old nuns who still survived in Derby, and then +to bring her out suitably at Babington House last year. The father had +cordially approved, and joined in the sacrifices, which included an +expenditure which he would not have thought conceivable. The result was, +of course, that Marjorie, under cover of a very real dutifulness, ruled +both her parents completely; her mother acknowledged the dominion, at +least, to herself and her husband; her father pretended that he did +not; and on this occasion rose, perhaps, nearer to repudiating it than +ever in his life. It seemed to him unbearable to be bidden by his +daughter, though with the utmost courtesy and affection, to mind his own +business. + +So he sat and breathed audibly through his nose, and meditated +rebellion. + + * * * * * + +"And is the lad to come here for Easter?" he asked at last. + +"I suppose so." + +"And for how long?" + +"So long as the maid appoints." + +He breathed louder than ever. + +"And, Mr. Manners," continued his wife emphatically, "no word must be +said to him on the matter. The maid is very plain as to that.... Oh! we +must let her have her way." + +"Where is she gone?" + +She nodded with her head to the window. He went to it and looked out. + + * * * * * + +It was the little walled garden on which he looked, in which, if he had +but known it, the lad whom he liked had kissed the maid whom he loved; +and there walked the maid, at this moment with her back to him, going up +the central path that was bordered with box. The February sun shone on +her as she went, on her hooded head, her dark cloak and her blue dress +beneath. He watched her go up, and drew back a little as she turned, so +that she might not see him watching; and as she came down again he saw +that she held a string of beads in her fingers and was making her +devotions. She was a good girl.... That, at least, was a satisfaction. + +Then he turned from the window again. + +"Well?" said his wife. + +"I suppose it must be as she says." + + +III + +It was an hour before sunset when Marjorie came out again into the +walled garden that had become for her now a kind of sanctuary, and in +her hand she carried a letter, sealed and inscribed. On the outside the +following words were written: + +"To Mr. Robin Audrey. At Matstead. + +"Haste, haste, haste." + +Within, the sheet was covered from top to bottom with the neat +convent-hand she had learnt from the nuns. The most of it does not +concern us. It began with such words as you would expect from a maid to +her lover; it continued to inform him that her parents were willing, +and, indeed, desirous, that he should come to them for Easter, and that +her father would write a formal letter later to invite him; it was to be +written from Derby, (this conspirator informed the other), that it might +cause less comment when Mr. Audrey saw it, and was to be expressed in +terms that would satisfy him. Finally, it closed as it had begun, and +was subscribed by his "loving friend, M. M." One paragraph, however, is +worth attention. + +"I have told my father and mother, that we love one another, my Robin; +and that you have asked me to marry you, and that I have consented +should you wish to do so when the time comes. They have consented most +willingly; and so Jesu have you in His keeping, and guide your mind +aright." + +It was this paragraph that had cost her half of the hour occupied in +writing; for it must be expressed just so and no otherwise; and its +wording had cost her agony lest on the one side she should tell him too +much, and, on the other, too little. And her agony was not yet over; for +she had to face its sending, and the thought of all that it might cost +her. She was to give it to one of the men who was to leave early for +Derby next morning and was to deliver it at Matstead on the road; so she +brought it out now to her sanctuary to spread it, like the old King of +Israel, before the Lord.... + + * * * * * + +There was a promise of frost in the air to-night. Underfoot the moisture +of the path was beginning, not yet to stiffen, but rather to withdraw +itself; and there was a cold clearness in the air. Over the wall beside +the house, beyond the leafless trees which barred it like prison-bars, +burned the sunset, deepening and glowing redder every instant. Yet she +felt nothing of the cold, for a fire was within her as she went again up +and down the path on which her father had watched her walk--a fire of +which as yet she could not discern the fuel. The love of Robin was +there--that she knew; and the love of Christ was there--so she thought; +and yet where the divine and the human passion mingled, she could not +tell; nor whether, indeed, for certain, it were the love of Christ at +all, and not a vain imagination of her own as to how Christ, in this +case, would be loved. Only she knew that across her love for Robin a +shadow had fallen; she could scarcely tell when it had first come to +her, and whence. Yet it had so come; it had deepened rapidly and +strongly during the mass that Mr. Simpson had said, and, behold! in its +very darkness there was light. And so it had continued till confusion +had fallen on her which none but Robin could dissolve. It must be his +word finally that must give her the answer to her doubts; and she must +make it easy for him to give it. He must know, that is, that she loved +him more passionately than ever, that her heart would break if she had +not her desire; and yet that she would not hold him back if a love that +was greater than hers could be for him or his for her, called him to +another wedding than that of which either had yet spoken. A broken heart +and God's will done would be better than that God's will should be +avoided and her own satisfied. + + * * * * * + +It was this kind of considerations, therefore, that sent her swiftly to +and fro, up and down the path under the darkening sky--if they can be +called considerations which beat on the mind like a clamour of shouting; +and, as she went, she strove to offer all to God: she entreated Him to +do His will, yet not to break her heart; to break her heart, yet not +Robin's; to break both her heart and Robin's, if that Will could not +otherwise be served. + +Her lips moved now and again as she went; but her eyes were downcast and +her face untroubled.... + + * * * * * + +As the bell in the court rang for supper she went to the door and looked +through. The man was just saddling up in the stable-door opposite. + +"Jack," she called, "here is the letter. Take if safely." + +Then she went in to supper. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +It was a great day and a solemn when the squire of Matstead went to +Protestant communion for the first time. It was Easter Day, too, but +this was less in the consideration of the village. There was first the +minister, Mr. Barton, in a condition of excited geniality from an early +hour. He was observed soon after it was light, by an old man who was up +betimes, hurrying up the village street in his minister's cassock and +gown, presumably on his way to see that all preparations were complete +for the solemnity. His wife was seen to follow him a few minutes later. + +By eight o'clock the inhabitants of the village were assembled at points +of vantage; some openly at their doors; others at the windows; and +groups from the more distant farms, decked suitably, stood at all +corners; to be greeted presently by their minister hurrying back once +more from the church to bring the communion vessels and the bread and +wine. The four or five soldiers of the village--a couple of billmen and +pikemen and a real gunner--stood apart in an official group, but did not +salute him. He did not speak of that which was in the minds of all, but +he waved a hand to this man, bid a happy Easter to another, and +disappeared within his lodgings leaving a wake of excitement behind him. + +By a quarter before nine the three bells had begun to jangle from the +tower; and the crowd had increased largely, when Mr. Barton once more +passed to the church in the spring sunshine, followed by the more devout +who wished to pray, and the more timid who feared a disturbance. For +sentiments were not wholly on the squire's side. There was first a +number of Catholics, openly confessed or at least secretly Catholic, +though these were not in full force since most were gone to Padley +before dawn; and there was next a certain sentiment abroad, even amongst +those who conformed, in favour of tradition. That the squire of Matstead +should be a Catholic was at least as fundamental an article of faith as +that the minister should be a Protestant. There was little or no +hot-gospel here; men still shook their heads sympathetically over the +old days and the old faith, which indeed had ceased to be the faith of +all scarcely twenty years ago; and it appeared to the most of them that +the proper faith of the Quality, since they had before their eyes such +families as the Babingtons, the Fentons, and the FitzHerberts, was that +to which their own squire was about to say good-bye. It was known, too, +publicly by now, that Mr. Robin was gone away for Easter, since he would +not follow his father. So the crowd waited; the dogs sunned themselves; +and the gunner sat on a wall. + + * * * * * + +The bells ceased at nine o'clock, and upon the moment, a group came +round the churchyard wall, down from the field-path and the stile that +led to the manor. + +First, walking alone, came the squire, swiftly and steadily. His face +was flushed a little, but set and determined. He was in his fine +clothes, ruff and all; his rapier was looped at his side, and he carried +a stick. Behind him came three or four farm servants; then a yeoman and +his wife; and last, at a little distance, three or four onlookers. + +There was dead silence as he came; the hum of talk died at the corners; +the bells' clamour had even now ceased. It seemed as if each man waited +for his neighbour to speak. There was only the sound of the squire's +brisk footsteps on the few yards of cobbles that paved the walk up to +the lych-gate. At the door of the church, seen beyond him, was a crowd +of faces. + +Then a man called something aloud from fifty yards away; but there was +no voice to echo him. The folk just watched their lord go by, staring on +him as on some strange sight, forgetting even to salute him. And so in +silence he passed on. + + +II + +Within, the church murmured with low talking. Already two-thirds of it +was full, and all faces turned and re-turned to the door at every +footstep or sound. As the bells ceased a sigh went up, as if a giant +drew breath; then, once again, the murmuring began. + +The church was as most were in those days. It was but a little place, +yet it had had in old days great treasures of beauty. There had been, +until some ten or twelve years ago, a carved screen that ran across the +chancel arch, with the Rood upon it, and St. Mary and St. John on this +side and that. The high-altar, it was remembered, had been of stone +throughout, surrounded with curtains on the three sides, hanging between +posts that had each a carven angel, all gilt. Now all was gone, +excepting only the painted windows (since glass was costly). The chancel +was as bare as a barn; beneath the whitewash, high over the place where +the old canopy had hung, pale colours still glimmered through where, +twelve years ago, Christ had sat crowning His Mother. The altar was +gone; its holy slab served now as the pavement within the west door, +where the superstitious took pains to step clear of it. The screen was +gone; part lay beneath the tower; part had been burned; Christ's Cross +held up the roof of the shed where the minister kept his horse; the +three figures had been carted off to Derby to help swell the Protestant +bonfire. The projecting stoup to the right of the main door had been +broken half off.... In place of these glories there stood now, in the +body of the church, before the chancel-steps, a great table, such as the +rubrics of the new Prayer-Book required, spread with a white cloth, upon +which now rested two tall pewter flagons of wine, a flat pewter plate as +great as a small dish, and two silver communion-cups--all new. And to +one side of this, in a new wainscoted desk, waited worthy Mr. Barton for +the coming of his squire--a happy man that day; his face beamed in the +spring sunlight; he had on his silk gown, and he eyed, openly, the door +through which his new patron was to come. + + * * * * * + +Then, without sound or warning, except for the footsteps on the +paving-stones and the sudden darkening of the sunshine on the floor, +there came the figure for which all looked. As he entered he lifted his +hand to his head, but dropped it again; and passed on, sturdy, and (you +would have said) honest and resolute too, to his seat behind the +reading-desk. He was met by silence; he was escorted by silence; and in +silence he sat down. + +Then the waiting crowd surged in, poured this way and that, and flowed +into the benches. And Mr. Barton's voice was raised in holy exhortation. + +"At what time soever a sinner doth repent him of his sin from the bottom +of his heart, I will put all his wickedness out of remembrance, with the +Lord." + + +III + +Those who could best observe (for the tale was handed on with the +careful accuracy of those who cannot read or write) professed themselves +amazed at the assured ease of the squire. No sound came from the seat +half-hidden behind the reading-desk where he sat alone; and, during the +prayers when he stood or kneeled, he moved as if he understood well +enough what he was at. A great bound Prayer-Book, it was known, rested +before him on the book-board, and he was observed to turn the pages more +than once. + +It was, indeed, a heavy task that Mr. Barton had to do. For first there +was the morning prayer, with its psalms, its lessons and its prayers; +next the Litany, and last the communion, in the course of which was +delivered one of the homilies set forth by authority, especially +designed for the support of those who were no preachers--preceded and +followed by a psalm. But all was easy to-day to a man who had such cause +for exultation; his voice boomed heartily out; his face radiated his +pleasure; and he delivered his homily when the time came, with excellent +emphasis and power--all from the reading-desk, except the communion. + +Yet it is to be doubted whether the attention of those that heard him +was where their pastor would have desired it to be; since even to these +country-folk the drama of the whole was evident. There, seen full when +he sat down, and in part when he kneeled and stood, was the man who +hitherto had stood to them for the old order, the old faith, the old +tradition--the man whose horse's footsteps had been heard, times and +again, before dawn, in the village street, bearing him to the mystery of +the mass; through whose gate strangers had ridden, perhaps three or four +times in the year, to find harbourage--strangers dressed indeed as plain +gentlemen or yeomen, yet known, every one of them, to be under her +Grace's ban, and to ride in peril of liberty if not of life. + +Yet here he sat--a man feared and even loved by some--the first of his +line to yield to circumstance, and to make peace with his times. Not a +man of all who looked on him believed him certainly to be that which his +actions professed him to be; some doubted, especially those who +themselves inclined to the old ways or secretly followed them; and the +hearts of these grew sick as they watched. + +But the crown and climax was yet to come. + + * * * * * + +The minister finished at last the homily--it was one which inveighed +more than once against the popish superstitions; and he had chosen it +for that reason, to clench the bargain, so to say--all in due order; for +he was a careful man and observed his instructions, unlike some of his +brethren who did as they pleased; and came back again to the long north +side of the linen-covered table to finish the service. + +He had no man to help him; so he was forced to do it all for himself; so +he went forward gallantly, first reading a set of Scripture sentences +while the officers collected first for the poor-box, and then, as it was +one of the offering-days, collected again the dues for the curate. It +was largely upon these, in such poor parishes as was this, that the +minister depended and his wife. + +Then he went on to pray for the whole estate of Christ's Church militant +here on earth, especially for God's "servant, Elizabeth our Queen, that +under her we may be godly and quietly governed"; then came the +exhortation, urging any who might think himself to be "a blasphemer of +God, an hinderer or slanderer of His Word ... or to be in malice or +envy," to bewail his sins, and "not to come to this holy table, lest +after the taking of that holy sacrament, the devil enter into him, as he +entered into Judas, and fill him full of all iniquities." + +So forward with the rest. He read the Comfortable Words; the English +equivalent for Sursum Corda with the Easter Preface; then another +prayer; and finally rehearsed the story of the Institution of the Most +Holy Sacrament, though without any blessing of the bread and wine, at +least by any action, since none such was ordered in the new Prayer-Book. +Then he immediately received the bread and wine himself, and stood up +again, holding the silver plate in his hand for an instant, before +proceeding to the squire's seat to give him the communion. Meantime, so +great was the expectation and interest that it was not until the +minister had moved from the table that the first communicants began to +come up to the two white-hung benches, left empty till now, next to the +table. + + * * * * * + +Then those who still watched, and who spread the tale about afterwards, +saw that the squire did not move from his seat to kneel down. He had put +off his hat again after the homily, and had so sat ever since; and now +that the minister came to him, still there he sat. + +Now such a manner of receiving was not unknown; yet it was the sign of a +Puritan; and, so far from the folk expecting such behaviour in their +squire, they had looked rather for Popish gestures, knockings on the +breast, signs of the cross. + +For a moment the minister stood before the seat, as if doubtful what to +do. He held the plate in his left hand and a fragment of bread in his +fingers. Then, as he began the words he had to say, one thing at least +the people saw, and that was that a great flush dyed the old man's face, +though he sat quiet. Then, as the minister held out the bread, the +squire seemed to recover himself; he put out his fingers quickly, took +the bread sharply and put it into his mouth; and so sat again, until the +minister brought the cup; and this, too, he drank of quickly, and gave +it back. + +Then, as the communicants, one by one, took the bread and wine and went +back to their seats, man after man glanced up at the squire. + +But the squire sat there, motionless and upright, like a figure cut of +stone. + + +IV + +The court of the manor seemed deserted half an hour before dinner-time. +There was a Sabbath stillness in the air to-day, sweetened, as it were, +by the bubbling of bird-music in the pleasaunce behind the hall and the +high woods beyond. On the strips of rough turf before the gate and +within it bloomed the spring flowers, white and blue. A hound lay +stretched in the sunshine on the hall steps; twitching his ears to keep +off a persistent fly. You would have sworn that his was the only +intelligence in the place. Yet at the sound of the iron latch of the +gate and the squire's footsteps on the stones, the place, so to say, +became alive, though in a furtive and secret manner. Over the half door +of the stable entrance on the left two faces appeared--one, which was +Dick's, sullen and angry, the other, that of a stable-boy, inquiring and +frankly interested. This second vanished again as the squire came +forward. A figure of a kitchen-boy, in a white apron, showed in the dark +doorway that led to the kitchen and hall, and disappeared again +instantly. From two or three upper windows faces peeped and remained +fascinated. Only the old hound remained still, twitching his ears. + +All this--though there was nothing to be seen but the familiar personage +of the place, in his hat and cloak and sword, walking through his own +court on his way to dinner, as he had walked a thousand times before. +And yet so great was the significance of his coming to-day, that the +very gate behind him was pushed open by sightseers, who had followed at +a safe distance up the path from the church; half a dozen stood there +staring, and behind them, at intervals, a score more, spread out in +groups, all the way down to the porter's lodge. + +The most remarkable feature of all was the silence. Not a voice there +spoke, even in a whisper. The maids at the windows above, Dick glowering +over the half door, the little group which, far back in the kitchen +entrance, peeped and rustled, the men at the gate behind, even the boys +in the path--all these held their tongues for interest and a kind of +fear. Drama was in the air--the tragedy of seeing the squire come back +from church for the first time, bearing himself as he always did, +resolute and sturdy, yet changed in his significance after a fashion of +which none of these simple hearts had ever dreamed. + +So, again in silence, he went up the court, knowing that eyes were upon +him, yet showing no sign that he knew it; he went up the steps with the +same assured air, and disappeared into the hall. + + * * * * * + +Then the spell broke up and the bustle began, for it was only half an +hour to dinner and guests were coming. First Dick came out, slashing to +the door behind him, and strode out to the gate. He was still in his +boots, for he had ridden to Padley and back since early morning with a +couple of the maids and the stable-boy. He went to the gate of the +court, the group dissolving as he came, and shut it in their faces. A +noise of talking came out of the kitchen windows and the clash of a +saucepan: the maids' heads vanished from the upper windows. + +Even as Dick shut the gate he heard the sound of horses' hoofs down by +the porter's lodge. The justices were coming--the two whose names he had +heard with amazement last week, as the last corroboration of the +incredible rumour of his master's defection. For these were a couple of +magistrates--harmless men, indeed, as regarded their hostility to the +old Faith--yet Protestants who had sat more than once on the bench in +Derby to hear cases of recusancy. Old Mrs. Marpleden had told him they +were to come, and that provision must be made for their horses--Mrs. +Marpleden, the ancient housekeeper of the manor, who had gone to school +for a while with the Benedictine nuns of Derby in King Henry's days. She +had shaken her head and eyed him, and then had suffered three or four +tears to fall down her old cheeks. + +Well, they were coming, so Dick must open the gate again, and pull the +bell for the servants; and this he did, and waited, hat in hand. + +Up the little straight road they came, with a servant or two behind +them--the two harmless gentlemen, chattering as they rode; and Dick +loathed them in his heart. + +"The squire is within?" + +"Yes, sir." + +They dismounted, and Dick held their stirrups. + +"He has been to church--eh?" + +Dick made no answer. He feigned to be busy with one of the saddles. + +The magistrate glanced at him sharply. + + +V + +It was a strange dinner that day. + +Outwardly, again, all was as usual--as it might have been on any other +Sunday in spring. The three gentlemen sat at the high table, facing down +the hall; and, since there was no reading, and since it was a festival, +there was no lack of conversation. The servants came in as usual with +the dishes--there was roast lamb to-day, according to old usage, among +the rest; and three or four wines. A little fire burned against the +reredos, for cheerfulness rather than warmth, and the spring sunshine +flowed in through the clear-glass windows, bright and genial. + +Yet the difference was profound. Certainly there was no talk, overheard +at least by the servants, which might not have been on any Sunday for +the last twenty years: the congratulations and good wishes, or whatever +they were, must have been spoken between the three in the parlour before +dinner; and they spoke now of harmless usual things--news of the +countryside and tales from Derby; gossip of affairs of State; of her +Grace, who, in a manner unthinkable, even by now dominated the +imagination of England. None of these three had ever seen her; the +squire had been to London but once in his life, his two guests never. +Yet they talked of her, of her state-craft, of her romanticism; they +told little tales, one to the other, as if she lived in the county town. +All this, then, was harmless enough. Religion was not mentioned in the +hearing of the servants, neither the old nor the new; they talked, all +three of them, and the squire loudest of all, though with pauses of +pregnant silence, of such things as children might have heard without +dismay. + +Yet to the servants who came and went, it was as if their master were +another man altogether, and his hall some unknown place. There was no +blessing of himself before meat; he said something, indeed, before he +sat down, but it was unintelligible, and he made no movement with his +hand. But it was deeper than this ... and his men who had served him for +ten or fifteen years looked on him as upon a stranger or a changeling. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +The same Easter Day at Padley was another matter altogether. + +As early as five o'clock in the morning the house was astir: lights +glimmered in upper rooms; footsteps passed along corridors and across +the court; parties began to arrive. All was done without ostentation, +yet without concealment, for Padley was a solitary place, and had no +fear, at this time, of a sudden descent of the authorities. For form's +sake--scarcely for more--a man kept watch over the valley road, and +signalled by the flashing of a lamp twice every party with which he was +acquainted, and there were no others than these to signal. A second man +waited by the gate into the court to admit them. They rode and walked in +from all round--great gentlemen, such as the North Lees family, came +with a small retinue; a few came alone; yeomen and farm servants, with +their women-folk, from the Hathersage valley, came for the most part on +foot. Altogether perhaps a hundred and twenty persons were within Padley +Manor--and the gate secured--by six o'clock. + +Meanwhile, within, the priest had been busy since half-past four with +the hearing of confessions. He sat in the chapel beside the undecked +altar, and they came to him one by one. The household and a few of the +nearer neighbours had done their duty in this matter the day before, and +a good number had already made their Easter duties earlier in Lent; so +by six o'clock all was finished. + +Then began the bustle. + +A group of ladies, FitzHerberts and Fentons, entered, so soon as the +priest gave the signal by tapping on the parlour wall, bearing all +things necessary for the altar; and it was astonishing what fine things +these were; so that by the time that the priest was ready to vest, the +place was transformed. Stuffs and embroideries hung upon the wall about +the altar, making it seem, indeed, a sanctuary; two tall silver +candlesticks, used for no other purpose, stood upon the linen cloths, +under which rested the slate altar-stone, taken, with the sacred vessels +and the vestments, from one of the privy hiding-holes, with whose secret +not a living being without the house, and not more than two or three +within, was acquainted. It was rumored that half a dozen such places had +been contrived within the precincts, two of which were great enough to +hold two or three men at a pinch. + + * * * * * + +Soon after six o'clock, then, the altar was ready and the priest stood +vested. He retired a pace from the altar, signed himself with the cross, +and with Mr. John FitzHerbert and his son Thomas on either side of him, +began the preparation.... + +It was a strange and an inspiriting sight that the young priest (for it +was Mr. Simpson who was saying the mass) looked upon as he turned round +after the gospel to make his little sermon. From end to end the tiny +chapel was full, packed so that few could kneel and none sit down. The +two doors were open, and here two faces peered in; and behind, rank +after rank down the steps and along the little passage, the folk stood +or knelt, out of sight of both priest and altar, and almost out of +sound. The sanctuary was full of children--whose round-eyed, solemn +faces looked up at him--children who knew little or nothing of what was +passing, except that they were there to worship God, but who, for all +that, received impressions and associations that could never thereafter +wholly leave them. The chapel was still completely dark, for the faint +light of dawn was excluded by the heavy hangings over the windows; and +there was but the light of the two tapers to show the people to one +another and the priest to them all. + +It was an inspiriting sight to him then--and one which well rewarded him +for his labours, since there was not a class from gentlemen to labourers +who was not represented there. The FitzHerberts, the Babingtons, the +Fentons--these, with their servants and guests, accounted for perhaps +half of the folk. From the shadow by the door peeped out the faces of +John Merton and his wife and son; beneath the window was the solemn face +of Mr. Manners the lawyer, with his daughter beside him, Robin Audrey +beside her, and Dick his servant behind him. Surely, thought the young +priest, the Faith could not be in its final decay, with such a gathering +as this. + +His little sermon was plain enough for the most foolish there. He spoke +of Christ's Resurrection; of how death had no power to hold Him, nor +pains nor prison to detain Him; and he spoke, too, of that mystical life +of His which He yet lived in His body, which was the Church; of how +Death, too, stretched forth his hands against Him there, and yet had no +more force to hold Him than in His natural life lived on earth near +sixteen hundred years ago; how a Resurrection awaited Him here in +England as in Jerusalem, if His friends would be constant and +courageous, not faithless, but believing. + +"Even here," he said, "in this upper chamber, where we are gathered for +fear of the Jews, comes Jesus and stands in the midst, the doors being +shut. Upon this altar He will be presently, the Lamb slain yet the Lamb +victorious, to give us all that peace which the world can neither give +nor take away." + +And he added a few words of exhortation and encouragement, bidding them +fear nothing whatever might come upon them in the future; to hold fast +to the faith once delivered to the saints, and so to attain the heavenly +crown. He was not eloquent, for he was but a young man newly come from +college, with no great gifts. Yet not a soul there looked upon him, on +his innocent, wondering eyes and his quivering lips, but was moved by +what he saw and heard. + +The priest signed himself with the cross, and turned again to continue +the mass. + + +II + +"You tell me, then," said the girl quietly, "that all is as it was with +you? God has told you nothing?" + +Robin was silent. + + * * * * * + +Mass had been done an hour or more, and for the most part the company +was dispersed again, after refreshment spread in the hall, except for +those who were to stay to dinner, and these two had slipped away at last +to talk together in the woods; for the court was still filled with +servants coming and going, and the parlours occupied. In one the ladies +were still busy with the altar furniture; in the other the priest sat to +talk in private with those who were come from a distance; and as for the +hall--this, too, was in the hands of the servants, since not less than +thirty gentle folk were to dine there that day. + +Robin had come to Booth's Edge at the beginning of Passion week, and had +been there ever since. He had refrained, at Marjorie's entreaty, from +speaking of her to her parents; and they, too, ruled by their daughter, +had held their tongues on the matter. Everything else, however, had +been discussed--the effect of the squire's apostasy, the alternatives +that presented themselves to the boy, the future behaviour of him to his +father--all these things had been spoken of; and even the priest called +into council during the last two or three days. Yet not much had come of +it. If the worst came to the worst, the lawyer had offered the boy a +place in his office; Anthony Babington had proposed his coming to +Dethick if his father turned him out; while Robin himself inclined to a +third alternative--the begging of his father to give him a sum of money +and be rid of him; after which he proposed, with youthful vagueness, to +set off for London and see what he could do there. + +Marjorie, however, had seemed strangely uninterested in such proposals. +She had listened with patience, bowing her head in assent to each, +beginning once or twice a word of criticism, and stopping herself before +she had well begun. But she had looked at Robin with more than interest; +and her mother had found her more than once on her knees in her own +chamber, in tears. Yet she had said nothing, except that she would speak +her mind after Easter, perhaps. + +And now, it seemed, she was doing it. + + * * * * * + +"You have had no other thought?" she said again, "besides those of which +you talked with my father?" + +They were walking together through the woods, half a mile along the +Hathersage valley. Beneath them the ground fell steeply away, above them +it rose as steeply to the right. Underfoot the new life of spring was +bourgeoning in mould and grass and undergrowth; for the heather did not +come down so far as this; and the daffodils and celandine and wild +hyacinth lay in carpets of yellow and blue, infinitely sweet, beneath +the shadow of the trees and in the open sunshine. (It was at this time +that the squire of Matstead was entering the church and hearing of the +promises of the Lord to the sinner who forsook his sinful ways.) + +"I have had other thoughts," said the boy slowly, "but they are so wild +and foolish that I have determined to think no more of them." + +"You are determined?" + +He bowed his head. + +"You are sure, then, that they are not from God?" asked the girl, torn +between fear and hope. He was silent; and her heart sank again. + +He looked, indeed, a bewildered boy, borne down by a weight that was too +heavy for his years. He walked with his hands behind his back, his +hatless head bowed, regarding his feet and the last year's leaves on +which he walked. A cuckoo across the valley called with the insistence +of one who will be answered. + +"My Robin," said the girl, "the last thing I would have you do is to +tell me what you would not.... Will you not speak to the priest about +it?" + +"I have spoken to the priest." + +"Yes?" + +"He tells me he does not know what to think." + +"Would you do this thing--whatever it may be--if the priest told you it +was God's will?" + +There was a pause; and then: + +"I do not know," said Robin, so low she could scarcely hear him. + +She drew a deep breath to reassure herself. + +"Listen!" she said. "I must say a little of what I think; but not all. +Our Lord must finish it to you, if it is according to His will." + +He glanced at her swiftly, and down again, like a frightened child. Yet +even in that glance he could see that it was all that she could do to +force herself to speak; and by that look he understood for the first +time something of that which she was suffering. + +"You know first," she said, "that I am promised to you. I hold that +promise as sacred as anything on earth can be." + +Her voice shook a little. The boy bowed his head again. She went on: + +"But there are some things," she said, "more sacred than anything on +earth--those things that come from heaven. Now, I wish to say this--and +then have done with it: that if such should be God's will, I would not +hold you for a day. We are Catholics, you and I.... Your father--" + +Her voice broke; and she stopped; yet without leaving go of her hold +upon herself. Only she could not speak for a moment. + +Then a great fury seized on the boy. It was one of those angers that for +a while poison the air and turn all things sour; yet without obscuring +the mind--an anger in which the angry one strikes first at that which he +loves most, because he loves it most, knowing, too, that the words he +speaks are false. For this, for the present, was the breaking-point in +the lad. He had suffered torments in his soul, ever since the hour in +which he had ridden into the gate of his own home after his talk in the +empty chapel; he had striven to put away from him that idea for which +the girl's words had broken an entrance into his heart. And now she +would give him no peace; she continued to press on him from without that +which already pained him within; so he turned on her. + +"You wish to be rid of me!" he cried fiercely. + +She looked at him with her lips parted, her eyes astonished, and her +face gone white. + +"What did you say?" she said. + +His conscience pierced him like a sword. Yet he set his teeth. + +"You wish to be rid of me. You are urging me to leave you. You talk to +me of God's will and God's voice, and you have no pity on me at all. It +is an excuse--a blind." + +He stood raging. The very fact that he knew every word to be false made +his energy the greater; for he could not have said it otherwise. + +"You think that!" she whispered. + +There, then, they stood, eyeing one another. A stranger, coming suddenly +upon them, would have said it was a lovers' tiff, and have laughed at +it. Yet it was a deeper matter than that. + +Then there surged over the boy a wave of shame; and the truth prevailed. +His fair face went scarlet; and his eyes filled with tears. He dropped +on his knees in the leaves, seized her hand and kissed it. + +"Oh! you must forgive me," he said. "But ... but I cannot do it!" + + +III + +It was a great occasion in the hall that Easter Day. The three tables, +which, according to custom, ran along the walls, were filled to-day with +guests; and a second dinner was to follow, scarcely less splendid than +the first, for their servants as well as for those of the household. The +floor was spread with new rushes; jugs of March beer, a full month old, +as it should be, were ranged down the tables; and by every plate lay a +posy of flowers. From the passage outside came the sound of music. + +The feast began with the reading of the Gospel; at the close, Mr. John +struck with his hand upon the table as a signal for conversation; the +doors opened; the servants came in, and a babble of talk broke out. At +the high table the master of the house presided, with the priest on his +right, Mrs. Manners and Marjorie beyond him; on his left, Mrs. Fenton +and her lord. At the other two tables Mr. Thomas presided at one and Mr. +Babington at the other. + +The talk was, of course, within the bounds of discretion; though once +and again sentences were spoken which would scarcely have pleased the +minister of the parish. For they were difficult times in which they +lived; and it is no wonder at all if bitterness mixed itself with +charity. Here was Mr. John, for instance, come to Padley expressly for +the selling of some meadows to meet his fines; here was his son Thomas, +the heir now, not only to Padley, but to Norbury, whose lord, his uncle, +lay in the Fleet Prison. Here was Mr. Fenton, who had suffered the like +in the matter of fines more than once. Hardly one of the folk there but +had paid a heavy price for his conscience; and all the worship that was +permitted to them, and that by circumstance, and not by law, was such as +they had engaged in that morning with shuttered windows and a sentinel +for fear that, too, should be silenced. + +They talked, then, guardedly of those things, since the servants were in +and out continually, and though all professed the same faith as their +masters, yet these were times that tried loyalty hard. Mr. John, indeed, +gave news, of his brother Sir Thomas, and said how he did; and read a +letter, too, from Italy, from his younger brother Nicholas, who was fled +abroad after a year's prison at Oxford; but the climax of the talk came +when dinner was over, and the muscadel, with the mould-jellies, had been +put upon the tables. It was at this moment that Mr. John nodded to his +son, who went to the door, to see the servants out, and stood by it to +see that none listened. Then his father struck his hands together for +silence, and himself spoke. + +"Mr. Simpson," he said, "has something to say to us all. It is not a +matter to be spoken of lightly, as you will understand presently.... Mr. +Simpson." + +The priest looked up timidly, pulling out a paper from his pocket. + +"You have heard of Mr. Nelson?" he said to the company. "Well, he was a +priest; and I have news of his death. He was executed in London on the +third of February for his religion. And another man, a Mr. Sherwood, was +executed a few days afterwards." + +There was a rustle along the benches. Some there had heard of the fact, +but no more; some had heard nothing of either the man or his death. Two +or three faces turned a shade paler; and then the silence settled down +again. For here was a matter that touched them all closely enough; since +up to now scarcely a priest except Mr. Cuthbert Maine had suffered death +for his religion; and even of him some of the more tolerant said that it +was treason with which he was charged. They had heard, indeed, of a +priest or two having been sent abroad into exile for his faith; but the +most of them thought it a thing incredible that in England at this time +a man should suffer death for it. Fines and imprisonment were one thing; +to such they had become almost accustomed. But death was another matter +altogether. And for a priest! Was it possible that the days of King +Harry were coming back; and that every Catholic henceforth should go in +peril of his life as well as of liberty? + +The folks settled themselves then in their seats; one or two men drank +off a glass of wine. + +"I have heard from a good friend of mine in London," went on the priest, +looking at his paper, "one who followed every step of the trial; and +was present at the death. They suffered at Tyburn.... However, I will +tell you what he says. He is a countryman of mine, from Yorkshire; as +was Mr. Nelson, too. + +"'Mr. Nelson was taken in London on the first of December last year. He +was born at Shelton, and was about forty-three years old; he was the son +of Sir Nicholas Nelson.' + +"So much," said the priest, looking up from his paper, "I knew myself. I +saw him about four years ago just before he went to Douay, and he came +back to England as a priest, a year and a half after. Mr. Sherwood was +not a priest; he had been at Douay, too, but as a scholar only.... Well, +we will speak of Mr. Nelson first. This is what my friend says." + +He spread the paper before him on the table; and Marjorie, looking past +her mother, saw that his hands shook as he spread it. + +"'Mr. Nelson,'" began the priest, reading aloud with some difficulty, +"'was brought before my lords, and first had tendered to him the oath of +the Queen's supremacy. This he refused to take, saying that no lay +prince could have pre-eminence over Christ's Church; and, upon being +pressed as to who then could have it, answered, Christ's Vicar only, the +successor of Peter. Further, he proceeded to say, under questioning, +that since the religion of England at this time is schismatic and +heretical, so also is the Queen's Grace who is head of it. + +"'This, then, was what was wanted; and after a delay of a few weeks, the +same questions being put to him, and his answers being the same, he was +sentenced to death. He was very fortunate in his imprisonment. I had +speech with him two or three times and was the means, by God's blessing, +of bringing another priest to him, to whom he confessed himself; and +with whom he received the Body of Christ a day before he suffered. + +"'On the third of February, knowing nothing of his death being so near, +he was brought up to a higher part of the prison, and there told he was +to suffer that day. His kinsmen were admitted to him then, to bid him +farewell; and afterwards two ministers came to turn him from his faith +if they could; but they prevailed nothing.'" + +There was a pause in the reading; but there was no movement among any +that listened. Robin, watching from his place at the right-hand table, +cold at heart, ran his eyes along the faces. The priest was as white as +death, with the excitement, it seemed, of having to tell such a tale. +His host beside him seemed downcast and quiet, but perfectly composed. +Mrs. Manners had her eyes closed; Anthony Babington was frowning to +himself with tight lips; Marjorie he could not see. + +With a great effort the reader resumed: + +"'When he was laid on the hurdle he refused to ask pardon of the Queen's +Grace; for, said he, I have never yet offended her. I was beside him, +and heard it. And he added, when those who stood near stormed at him, +that it was better to be hanged than to burn in hell-fire. + +"'There was a great concourse of people at Tyburn, but kept back by the +officers so that they could not come at him. When he was in the cart, +first he commended his spirit into God's Hands, saying _In manus tuas_, +etc.; then he besought all Catholics that were present to pray for him; +I saw a good many who signed themselves in the crowd; and then he said +some prayers in Latin; with the psalms _Miserere_ and _De Profundis_. +And then he addressed himself to the people, telling them he died for +his religion, which was the Catholic Roman one, and prayed, and desired +them to pray, that God would bring all Englishmen into it. The crowd +cried out at that, exclaiming against this _Catholic Romish Faith_; and +so he said what he had to say, over again. Then, before the cart was +drawn away from him to leave him to hang, he asked pardon of all them he +had offended, and even of the Queen, if he had indeed offended her. Then +one of the sheriffs called on the hangman to make an end; so Mr. Nelson +prayed again in silence, and then begged all Catholics that were there +once more to pray that, by the bitter passion of Christ, his soul might +be received into everlasting joy. And they did so; for as the cart was +drawn away a great number cried out, and I with them, _Lord, receive his +soul_. + +"'He was cut down, according to sentence, before he was dead, and the +butchery begun on him; and when it was near over, he moved a little in +his pain, and said that he forgave the Queen and all that caused or +consented to his death: and so he died.'" + +The priest's voice, which had shaken again and again, grew so tremulous +as he ended that those that were at the end of the hall could scarcely +hear him; and, as it ceased, a murmur ran along the seats. + +Mr. FitzHerbert leaned over to the priest and whispered. The priest +nodded, and the other held up his hand for silence. + +"There is more yet," he said. + +Mr. Simpson, with a hand that still shook so violently that he could +hardly hold his glass, lifted and drank off a cup of muscadel. Then he +cleared his throat, sat up a little in his chair, and resumed: + +"'Next I went to see Mr. Sherwood, to talk to him in prison and to +encourage him by telling him of the passion of the other and how bravely +he bore it. Mr. Sherwood took it very well, and said that he was afraid +of nothing, that he had reconciled his mind to it long ago, and had +rehearsed it all two or three times, so that he would know what to say +and how to bear himself.'" + +Mr. FitzHerbert leaned over again to the priest at this point and +whispered something. Mr. Simpson nodded, and raised his eyes. + +"Mr. Sherwood," he said, "was a scholar from Douay, but not a priest. He +was lodging in the house of a Catholic lady, and had procured mass to be +said there, and it was through her son that he was taken and charged +with recusancy." + +Again ran a rustle through the benches. This executing of the laity for +religion was a new thing in their experience. The priest lifted the +paper again. + +"'I found that Mr. Sherwood had been racked many times in the Tower, +during the six months he was in prison, to force him to tell, if they +could, where he had heard mass and who had said it. But they could +prevail nothing. Further, no visitor was admitted to him all this time, +and I was the first and the last that he had; and that though Mr. Roper +himself had tried to get at him for his relief; for he was confined +underground and lay in chains and filth not to be described. I said what +I could to him, but he said he needed nothing and was content, though +his pain must have been very great all this while, what with the racking +repeated over and over again and the place he lay in. + +"'I was present again when he suffered at Tyburn, but was too far away +to hear anything that he said, and scarcely, indeed, could see him; but +I learned afterwards that he died well and courageously, as a Catholic +should, and made no outcry or complaint when the butchery was done on +him. + +"'This, then, is the news I have to send you--sorrowful, indeed, yet +joyful, too; for surely we may think that they who bore such pains for +Christ's sake with such constancy will intercede for us whom they leave +behind. I am hoping myself to come North again before I go to Douay next +year, and will see you then and tell you more.'" + +The priest laid down the paper, trembling. + +Mr. FitzHerbert looked up. + +"It will give pleasure to the company," he said, "to know that the +writer of the letter is Mr. Ludlam, from Radbourne, in this county. As +you have heard, he, too, hopes by God's mercy to be made priest and to +come back to England." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +In the following week Robin went home again. + +The clear weather of Easter had broken, and racing clouds, thick as a +pall, sped across the sky that had been so blue and so cheerful; a wind +screamed all day, now high, now low, shattering the tender flowers of +spring, ruffling the Derwent against its current, by which he rode, and +dashing spatters of rain now and again on his back, tossing high and +wide the branches under which he went, until the woods themselves became +as a great melancholy organ, making sad music about him. + +When a mind is fluent and uncertain there is no describing it. He +thought he had come to a decision last week; he found that the decision +was shattered as soon as made. He had talked to the priest; he had +resisted Marjorie; and yet to neither of them had he put into formal +words what it was that troubled him. He had asked questions about +vocation, about the place that circumstance occupies in it, of the value +of dispositions, fears, scruples, and resistance. He had, that is, +fingered his wound, half uncovered it, and then covered it up again, +tormented it, glanced at it and then glanced aside; yet the one thing he +had not done was to probe it--not even to allow another to do so. + +His mind, then, was fluent and distracted; it formed images before him, +which dissolved as soon as formed; it whirled in little eddies; it threw +up obscuring foam; it ran clear one instant, and the next broke itself +in rapids. He could neither ease it, nor dam it altogether, and he did +not know what to do. + +As he rode through Froggatt, he saw a group of saddle-horses standing +at the inn door, but thought nothing of it, till a man ran out of the +door, still holding his pot, and saluted him, and he recognised him to +be one of Mr. Babington's men. + +"My master is within, sir," he said; "he bade me look out for you." + +Robin drew rein, and as he did so, Anthony, too, came out. + +"Ah!" he said. "I heard you would be coming this way. Will you come in? +I have something to say to you." + +Robin slipped off, leaving his mare in the hands of Anthony's man, since +he himself was riding alone, with his valise strapped on behind. + +It was a little room, very trim and well kept, on the first floor, to +which his friend led him. Anthony shut the door carefully and came +across to the settle by the window-seat. + +"Well," he said, "I have bad news for you, my friend. Will you forgive +me? I have seen your father and had words with him." + +"Eh?" + +"I said nothing to you before," went on the other, sitting down beside +him. "I knew you would not have it so, but I went to see for myself and +to put a question or two. He is your father, but he has also been my +friend. That gives me rights, you see!" + +"Tell me," said Robin heavily. + +It appeared that Anthony, who was a precise as well as an ardent young +man, had had scruples about trusting to hearsay. Certainly it was +rumoured far and wide that the squire of Matstead had done as he had +said he would do, and gone to church; but Mr. Anthony was one of those +spirits who will always have things, as they say, from the +fountain-head; partly from instincts of justice, partly, no doubt, for +the pleasure of making direct observations to the principals concerned. +This was what he had done in this case. He had ridden, without a word to +any, up to Matstead, and had demanded to be led to the squire; and there +and then, refusing to sit down till he was answered, had put his +question. There had been a scene. The squire had referred to puppies who +wanted drowning, to young sparks, and to such illustrative similes; and +Anthony, in spite of his youthful years, had flared out about turncoats +and lick-spittles. There had been a very pretty ending: the squire had +shouted for his servants and Anthony for his, and the two parties had +eyed one another, growling like dogs, until bloodshed seemed imminent. +Then the visitor had himself solved the situation by stalking out of the +house from which the squire was proposing to flog him, mounting his +horse, and with a last compliment or two had ridden away. And here he +was at Froggatt on his return journey, having eaten there that dinner +which no longer would be spread for him at Matstead. + +Robin sat silent till the tale was done, and at the end of it Anthony +was striding about the room, aflame again with wrath, gesticulating and +raging aloud. + +Then Robin spoke, holding up his hand for moderation. "You will have the +whole house here," he said. "Well, you have cooked my goose for me." + +"Bah! that was cooked at Passiontide when you went to Booth's Edge. Do +you think he'll ever have a Papist in his house again?" + +"Did he say so?" + +"No; but he said enough about his 'young cub.'... Nonsense, man! Come +home with me to Dethick. We'll find occupation enough." + +"Did he say he would not have me home again?" + +"No," bawled Anthony. "I have told you he did not say so outright. But +he said enough to show he'd have no rebels, as he called them, in his +Protestant house! Dick's to leave. Did you hear that?" + +"Dick!" + +"Why, certainly. There was a to-do on Sunday, and Dick spoke his mind. +He'll come to me, he says, if you have no service for him." + +Robin set his teeth. It seemed as if the pelting blows would never +cease. + +"Come with me to Dethick!" said Anthony again. "I tell you--" + +"Well?" + +"There'll be time enough to tell you when you come. But I promise you +occupation enough." + +He paused, as if he would say more and dared not. + +"You must tell me more," said the lad slowly. "What kind of occupation?" + +Then Anthony did a queer thing. He first glanced at the door, and then +went to it quickly and threw it open. The little lobby was empty. He +went out, leaned over the stair and called one of his men. + +"Sit you there," he said, with the glorious nonchalance of a Babington, +"and let no man by till I tell you." + +He came back, closed the door, bolted it, and then came across and sat +down by his friend. + +"Do you think the rest of us are doing nothing?" he whispered. "Why, I +tell you that a dozen of us in Derbyshire--" He broke off once more. "I +may not tell you," he said, "I must ask leave first." + +A light began to glimmer before Robin's mind; the light broadened +suddenly and intensely, and his whole soul leapt to meet it. + +"Do you mean--?" And then he, too, broke off, well knowing enough, +though not all of, what was meant. + + * * * * * + +It was quiet here within this room, in spite of the village street +outside. It was dinner-time, and all were within doors or out at their +affairs; and except for the stamp of a horse now and again, and the +scream of the wind in the keyhole and between the windows, there was +little to hear. And in the lad's soul was a tempest. + +He knew well enough now what his friend meant, though nothing of the +details; and from the secrecy and excitement of the young man's manner +he understood what the character of his dealings would likely be, and +towards those dealings his whole nature leaped as a fish to the water. +Was it possible that this way lay the escape from his own torment of +conscience? Yet he must put a question first, in honesty. + +"Tell me this much," he said in a low voice. "Do you mean that this ... +this affair will be against men's lives ... or ... or such as even a +priest might engage in?" + +Then the light of fanaticism leaped to the eyes of his friend, and his +face brightened wonderfully. + +"Do they observe the courtesies and forms of law?" he snarled. "Did +Nelson die by God's law, or did Sherwood--those we know of? I will tell +you this," he said, "and no more unless you pledge yourself to us ... +that we count it as warfare--in Christ's Name yes--but warfare for all +that." + + * * * * * + +There then lay the choice before this lad, and surely it was as hard a +choice as ever a man had to make. On the one side lay such an excitement +as he had never yet known--for Anthony was no merely mad fool--a path, +too, that gave him hopes of Marjorie, that gave him an escape from home +without any more ado, a task besides which he could tell himself +honestly was, at least, for the cause that lay so near to Marjorie's +heart, and was beginning to lie near his own. And on the other there was +open to him that against which he had fought now day after day, in +misery--a life that had no single attraction to the natural man in him, +a life that meant the loss of Marjorie for ever. + +The colour died from his lips as he considered this. Surely all lay +Anthony's way: Anthony was a gentleman like himself; he would do nothing +that was not worthy of one.... What he had said of warfare was surely +sound logic. Were they not already at war? Had not the Queen declared +it? And on the other side--nothing. Nothing. Except that a voice within +him on that other side cried louder and louder--it seemed in despair: +"This is the way; walk in it." + +"Come," whispered Anthony again. + +Robin stood up; he made as if to speak; then he silenced himself and +began to walk to and fro in the little room. He could hear voices from +the room beneath--Anthony's men talking there no doubt. They might be +his men, too, at the lifting of a finger--they and Dick. There were the +horses waiting without; he heard the jingle of a bit as one tossed his +head. Those were the horses that would go back to Dethick and Derby, +and, may be, half over England. + +He walked to and fro half a dozen times without speaking, and, if he had +but guessed it, he might have been comforted to know that his manhood +flowed in upon him, as a tide coming in over a flat beach. These +instants added more years to him than as many months that had gone +before. His boyhood was passing, since experience and conflict, whether +it end in victory or defeat, give the years to a man far more than the +passing of time. So in God's sight Robin added many inches to the +stature of his spirit in this little parlour of Froggatt. + +Yet, though he conquered then, he did not know that he conquered. He +still believed, as he turned at last and faced his friend, that his mind +was yet to make up, and his whisper was harsh and broken. + +"I do not know," he whispered. "I must go home first." + + +II + +Dick was waiting by the porter's lodge as the boy rode in, and walked up +beside him with his brown hand on the horse's shoulder. Robin could not +say much, and, besides, his confidence must be tied. + +"So you are going," he said softly. + +The man nodded. + +"I met Mr. Babington.... You cannot do better, I think, than go to him." + + * * * * * + +It was with a miserable heart that an hour or two later he came down to +supper. His father was already at table, sitting grimly in his place; he +made no sign of welcome or recognition as his son came in. During the +meal itself this was of no great consequence, as silence was the custom; +but the boy's heart sank yet further as, still without a word to him, +the squire rose from table at the end and went as usual through the +parlour door. He hesitated a moment before following. Then he grasped +his courage and went after. + +All things were as usual there--the wine set out and the sweetmeats, and +his father in his usual place, Yet still there was silence. + +Robin began to meditate again, yet alert for a sign or a word. It was +in this little room, he understood, that the dispute with Anthony had +taken place a few hours before, and he looked round it, almost wondering +that all seemed so peaceful. It was this room, too, that was associated +with so much that was happy in his life--drawn-out hours after supper, +when his father was in genial moods, or when company was there--company +that would never come again--and laughter and gallant talk went round. +There was the fire burning in the new stove--that which had so much +excited him only a year or two ago, for it was then the first that he +had ever seen: there was the table where he had written his little +letter; there was "Christ carrying His Cross." + +"So you have sent your friend to insult me; now!" + +Robin started. The voice was quiet enough, but full of a suppressed +force. + +"I have not, sir. I met Mr. Babington at Froggatt on his way back. He +told me. I am very sorry for it." + +"And you talked with him at Padley, too, no doubt?" + +"Yes, sir." + +His father suddenly wheeled round on him. + +"Do you think I have no sense, then? Do you think I do not know what you +and your friends speak of?" + +Robin was silent. + +He was astonished how little afraid he was. His heart beat loud enough +in his ears; yet he felt none of that helplessness that had fallen on +him before when his father was angry.... Certainly he had added to his +stature in the parlour at Froggatt. + +The old man poured out a glass of wine and drank it. His face was +flushed high, and he was using more words than usual. + +"Well, sir, there are other affairs we must speak of; and then no more +of them. I wish to know your meaning for the time to come. There must be +no more fooling this way and that. I shall pay no fines for you--mark +that! If you must stand on your own feet, stand on them.... Now then!" + +"Do you mean, am I coming to church with you, sir?" + +"I mean, who is to pay your fines?... Miss Marjorie?" + +Robin set his teeth at the sneer. + +"I have not yet been fined, sir." + +"Now do you take me for a fool? D'you think they'll let you off? I was +speaking--" + +The old man stopped. + +"Yes, sir?" + +The other wheeled his face on him. + +"If you will have it," he said, "I was speaking to my two good friends +who dined here on Sunday. I was plain with them and they were plain with +me. 'I shall not pay for my brat of a son,' I said. 'Then he must pay +for himself,' said they, 'unless we lay him by the heels.' 'Not in my +house, I hope,' I said; and they laughed at that. We were very merry +together." + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Good God! have I a fool for a son? I ask you again, Who is it to pay?" + +"When will they demand it?" + +"Why, they may demand it next week, if they will! You were not at church +on Sunday!" + +"I was not in Matstead," said the lad. + +"But--" + +"And Mr. Barton will not, I think--" + +The old man struck the table suddenly and violently. + +"I have dropped words enough," he cried. "Where's the use of it? If you +think they will let you alone, I tell you they will not. There are to be +doings before Christmas, at latest; and what then?" + +Then Robin drew his breath sharply between his teeth; and knew that one +more step had been passed, that had separated him from that which he +feared.... He had come just now, still hesitating. Still there had been +passing through his mind hopes and ideas of what his father might do for +him. He knew well enough that he would never pay the fines, amounting +sometimes to as much as twenty pounds a month; but he had thought that +perhaps his father would give him a sum of money and let him go to fend +for himself; that he might help him even to a situation somewhere; and +now hope had died so utterly that he did not even dare speak of it. And +he had said "No" to Anthony; he said to himself at least that he had +meant "No," in spite of his hesitation. All doors seemed closing, save +that which terrified him.... + +"I have thought in my mind--" he began; and stopped, for the terror of +what was on his tongue grew suddenly upon him. + +"Eh?" + +Robin stood up. + +"I must have time, sir," he cried; "I must have time. Do not press me +too much." + +His father's eyes shone bright and wrathful. He beat on the table with +his open hand; but the boy was too quick for him. + +"I beg of you, sir, not to make me speak too soon. It may be that you +would hate that I should speak more than my silence." + +His whole person was tense and magnetic; his face was paler than ever; +and it seemed as if his father understood enough, at least, to make him +hesitate. The two looked at one another; and it was the man's eyes that +tell first. + +"You may have till Pentecost," he said. + + +III + +It would be at about an hour before dawn that Robin awoke for perhaps +the third or fourth time that night; for the conflict still roared +within his soul and would give him no peace. And, as he lay there, awake +in an instant, staring up into the dark, once more weighing and +balancing this and the other, swayed by enthusiasm at one moment, +weighed down with melancholy the next--there came to him, distinct and +clear through the still night, the sound of horses' hoofs, perhaps of +three or four beasts, walking together. + +Now, whether it was the ferment of his own soul, or the work of some +interior influence, or indeed, the very intimation of God Himself, Robin +never knew (though he inclined later to the last of these); yet it +remains as a fact that when he heard that sound, so fierce was his +curiosity to know who it was that rode abroad in company at such an +hour, he threw off the blankets that covered him, went to his window and +threw it open. Further, when he had listened there a second or two, and +had heard the sound cease and then break out again clearer and nearer, +signifying that the party was riding through the village, his curiosity +grew so intense, that he turned from the window, snatched up and put on +a few clothes, groping for them as well as he could in the dimness, and +was presently speeding, barefooted, downstairs, telling himself in one +breath that he was a fool, and in the next that he must reach the +churchyard wall before the horses did. + +It was but a short run when he had come down into the court, by the +little staircase that led from the men's rooms; the ground was soaking +with the rains of yesterday, but he cared nothing for that; and, as the +riding party turned up the little ascent that led beneath the +churchyard, Robin, on the other side of the wall, was keeping between +the tombstones to see, and not be seen. + +It was within an hour of dawn, at that time when the sky begins to +glimmer with rifts above the two horizons, showing light enough at least +to distinguish faces. It was such a light as that in which he had seen +the deer looking at him motionless as he rode home with Dick. Yet the +three who now rode up towards him were so muffled about the faces that +he feared he would not know them. They were men, all three of them; and +he could make out valises strapped to the saddle of each; but, what +seemed strange, they did not speak as they came; and it appeared as if +they wished to make no more noise than was necessary, since one of them, +when his horse set his foot upon the cobblestones beside the lych-gate, +pulled him sharply off them. + +And then, just as they rounded the angle of the wall where the boy +crouched peeping, the man that rode in the middle, sighed as if with +relief, and pulled the cloak that was about him, so that the collar fell +from his face, and at the same time turned to his companion on his +right, and said something in a low voice. + +But the boy heard not a word; for he found himself staring at the +thin-faced young priest from whom he had received Holy Communion at +Padley. It was but for an instant; for the man to whom the priest spoke +answered in the same low voice, and the other pulled his cloak again +round his mouth. + +Yet the look was enough. The sight, once more, of this servant of God, +setting out again upon his perilous travels--seen at such a moment, when +the boy's judgment hung in the balance (as he thought); this one single +reminder of what a priest could do in these days of sorrow, and of what +God called on him to do--the vision, for it was scarcely less, all +things considered, of a life such as this--presented, so to say, in this +single scene of a furtive and secret ride before the dawn, leaving +Padley soon after midnight--this, falling on a soul that already leaned +that way, finished that for which Marjorie had prayed, and against which +the lad himself had fought so fiercely. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he stood by his father's bed, looking down on him +without fear. + +"Father," he said, as the old man stared up at him through sleep-ridden +eyes, "I have come to give you my answer. It is that I must go to Rheims +and be a priest." + +Then he turned again and went out of the room, without waiting. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +Mrs. Manners was still abed when her daughter came in to see her. She +lay in the great chamber that gave upon the gallery above the hall +whence, on either side, she could hear whether or no the maids were at +their business--which was a comfort to her if a discomfort to them. And +now that her lord was in Derby, she lay here all alone. + +The first that she knew of her daughter's coming was a light in her +eyes; and the next was a face, as of a stranger, looking at her with +great eyes, exalted by joy and pain. The light, held below, cast shadows +upwards from chin and cheek, and the eyes shone in hollows. Then, as she +sat up, she saw that it was her daughter, and that the maid held a paper +in her hands; she was in her night-linen, and a wrap lay over her +shoulders and shrouded her hair. + +"He is to be a priest," she whispered sharply. "Thank our Lord with me +... and ... and God have mercy on me!" + +Then Marjorie was on her knees by the bedside, sobbing so that the +curtains shook. + + * * * * * + +The mother got it all out of her presently--the tale of the girl's heart +torn two ways at once. On the one side there was her human love for the +lad who had wooed her--as hot as fire, and as pure--and on the other +that keen romance that had made her pray that he might be a priest. This +second desire had come to her, as sharp as a voice that calls, when she +had heard of the apostasy of his father; it had seemed to her the +riposte that God made to the assault upon His honour. The father would +no longer be His worshipper? Then let the son be His priest; and so the +balance be restored. And so the maid had striven with the two loves +that, for once, would not agree together (as did the man in the Gospels +who wished to go and bury his father and afterwards to follow his +Saviour); she had not dared to say a word to the lad of anything of this +lest it should be her will and not God's that should govern him, for she +knew very well what a power she had over him; but she had prayed God, +and begged Robin to pray too and to listen to His voice; and now she had +her way, and her heart was broken with it, she said: + +"And when I think," she wailed across her mother's knees, "of what it is +to be a priest; and of the life that he will lead, and of the death that +he may die!... And it is I ... I ... who will have sent him to it. +Mother!..." + +Mrs. Manners was bethinking herself of a cordial just then, and how she +knew old Ann would be coming presently, and was listening with but half +an ear. + +"It's not you, my dear," she said, patting the head beneath her hands. +(The wrap was fallen off, and the maid's long hair was all over her +shoulders.) "And now--" + +"But our Lord will take care of him, will He not? And not suffer--" + +Mrs. Manners fell to patting her head again. + +"And who brought the message?" she asked. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Manners was one of those experienced persons who are fully +persuaded that youth is a disease that must be borne with patiently. +Time, indeed, will cure it; yet until the cure is complete, elders must +bear it as well as they can and not seem to pay too much attention to +it. A rigorous and prudent diet; long hours of sleep, plenty of +occupation--these are the remedies for the fever. So, while Marjorie +first began to read the lad's letter, and then, breaking down +altogether, thrust it into her mother's hand, Mrs. Manners was searching +her memory as to whether any imprudence the day before, in food or +behaviour, could be the cause of this crisis. Love between boys and +girls was common enough; she herself twenty years ago had suffered from +the sickness when young John had come wooing her; yet a love that could +thrust from it that which it loved, was beyond her altogether. Either +Marjorie loved the lad, or she did not, and if she loved him, why did +she pray that he might be a priest? That was foolishness; since +priesthood was a bar to marriage. She began to conclude that Marjorie +did not love him; it had been but a romantic fancy; and she was +encouraged by the thought. + +"Madge," she began, when she had read through the confused line or two, +in the half-boyish, half-clerkly hand of Robin, scribbled and dispatched +by the hands of Dick scarcely two hours ago. "Madge--" + +She was about to say something sensible when the maid interrupted her +again. + +"And it is I who have brought it all on him!" she wailed. "If it had not +been for me--" + +Her mother laid a firm hand on her daughter's mouth. It was not often +that she felt the superior of the two; yet here was a time, plain +enough, when maturity and experience must take the reins. + +"Madge," she said, "it is plain you do not love him; or you never--" + +The maid started back, her eyes ablaze. + +"Not love him! Why--" + +"That you do not love him truly; or you would never have wished this for +him.... Now listen to me!" + +She raised an admonitory finger, complacent at last. But her speech was +not to be made at that time; for her daughter swiftly rose to her feet, +controlled at last by the shock of astonishment. + +"Then I do not think you know what love is," she said softly. "To love +is to wish the other's highest good, as I understand it." + +Mrs. Manners compressed her lips, as might a prophetess before a +prediction. But her daughter was beforehand with her again. + +"That is the love of a Christian, at least," she said. Then she stooped, +took the letter from her mother's knees, and went out. + +Mrs. Manners sat for a moment as her daughter left her. Then she +understood that her hour of superiority was gone with Marjorie's hour of +weakness; and she emitted a short laugh as she took her place again +behind the child she had borne. + + +II + +It was a strange time that Marjorie had until two days later, when Robin +came and told her all, and how it had fallen out. For now, it seemed, +she walked on air; now in shoes of lead. When she was at her prayers +(which was pretty often just now), and at other times, when the air +lightened suddenly about her and the burdens of earth were lifted as if +another hand were put to them--at those times which every interior soul +experiences in a period of stress--why, then, all was glory, and she saw +Robin as transfigured and herself beneath him all but adoring. Little +visions came and went before her imagination. Robin riding, like some +knight on an adventure, to do Christ's work; Robin at the altar, in his +vestments; Robin absolving penitents--all in a rosy light of faith and +romance. She saw him even on the scaffold, undaunted and resolute, with +God's light on his face, and the crowd awed beneath him; she saw his +soul entering heaven, with all the harps ringing to meet him, and +eternity begun.... And then, at other times, when the heaviness came +down on her, as clouds upon the Derbyshire hills, she understood nothing +but that she had lost him; that he was not to be hers, but Another's; +that a loveless and empty life lay before her, and a womanhood that was +without its fruition. And it was this latter mood that fell on her, +swift and entire, when, looking out from her window a little before +dinner-time, she saw suddenly his hat, and Cecily's head, jerking up the +steep path that led to the house. + +She fell on her knees by her bedside. + +"Jesu!" she cried. "Jesu! Give me strength to meet him." + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Manners, too, hearing the horse's footsteps on the pavement a +minute later, and Marjorie's steps going downstairs, also looked forth +and saw him dismounting. She was a prudent woman, and did not stir a +finger till she heard the bell ringing in the court for the dinner to be +served. They would have time, so she thought, to arrange their +attitudes. + +And, indeed, she was right: for it was two quiet enough persons who met +her as she came down into the hall: Robin flushed with riding, yet +wholly under his own command--bright-eyed, and resolute and natural +(indeed, it seemed to her that he was more of a man than she had thought +him). And her daughter, too, was still and strong; a trifle paler than +she should be, yet that was to be expected. At dinner, of course, +nothing could be spoken of but the most ordinary affairs--in such +speaking, that is, as there was. It was not till they had gone out into +the walled garden and sat them down, all three of them, on the long +garden-seat beside the rose-beds, that a word was said on these new +matters. There was silence as they walked there, and silence as they sat +down. + +"Tell her, Robin," said the maid. + + * * * * * + +It appeared that matters were not yet as wholly decided as Mrs. Manners +had thought. Indeed, it seemed to her that they were not decided at all. +Robin had written to Dr. Allen, and had found means to convey his letter +to Mr. Simpson, who, in his turn, had undertaken to forward it at least +as far as to London; and there it would await a messenger to Douay. It +might be a month before it would reach Douay, and it might be three or +four months, or even more, before an answer could come back. Next, the +squire had taken a course of action which, plainly, had disconcerted the +lad, though it had its conveniences too. For, instead of increasing the +old man's fury, the news his son had given him had had a contrary +effect. He had seemed all shaken, said Robin; he had spoken to him +quietly, holding in the anger that surely must be there, the boy +thought, without difficulty. And the upshot of it was that no more had +been said as to Robin's leaving Matstead for the present--not one word +even about the fines. It seemed almost as if the old man had been trying +how far he could push his son, and had recoiled when he had learned the +effect of his pushing. + +"I think he is frightened," said the lad gravely. "He had never thought +that I could be a priest." + +Mrs. Manners considered this in silence. + +"And it may be autumn before Dr. Allen's letter comes back?" she asked +presently. + +Robin said that that was so. + +"It may even be till winter," he said. "The talk among the priests, Mr. +Simpson tells me, is all about the removal from Douay. It may be made at +any time, and who knows where they will go?" + +Mrs. Manners glanced across at her daughter, who sat motionless, with +her hands clasped. Then she was filled with the spirit of reasonableness +and sense: all this tragic to-do about what might never happen seemed to +her the height of folly. + +"Nay, then," she burst out, "then nothing may happen after all. Dr. +Allen may say 'No;' the letter may never get to him. It may be that you +will forget all this in a month or two." + +Robin turned his face slowly towards her, and she saw that she had +spoken at random. Again, too, it struck her attention that his manner +seemed a little changed. It was graver than that to which she was +accustomed. + +"I shall not forget it," he said softly. "And Dr. Allen will get the +letter. Or, if not he, someone else." + +There was silence again, but Mrs. Manners heard her daughter draw a long +breath. + + +III + +It was an hour later that Marjorie found herself able to say that which +she knew must be said. + +Robin had lingered on, talking of this and that, though he had said half +a dozen times that he must be getting homewards; and at last, when he +rose, Mistress Manners, who was still wholly misconceiving the +situation, after the manner of sensible middle-aged folk, archly and +tactfully took her leave and disappeared down towards the house, +advancing some domestic reason for her departure. + +Robin sighed, and turned to the girl, who still sat quiet. But as he +turned she lifted her eyes to him swiftly. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Robin," she said. + +He pulled himself up. + +"You understand, do you not?" she said. "You are to be a priest. You +must remember that always. You are a sort of student already." + +She could see him pale a little; his lips tightened. For a moment he +said nothing; he was taken wholly aback. + +"Then I am not to come here again?" + +Marjorie stood up. She showed no sign of the fierce self-control she was +using. + +"Why, yes," she said. "Come as you would come to any Catholic +neighbours. But no more than that.... You are to be a priest." + + * * * * * + +The spring air was full of softness and sweetness as they stood there. +On the trees behind them and on the roses in front the budding leaves +had burst into delicate green, and the copses on all sides sounded with +the twittering of birds. The whole world, it seemed, was kindling with +love and freshness. Yet these two had to stand here and be cold, one to +the other.... He was to be a priest; that must not be forgotten, and +they must meet no more on the old footing. That was gone. Already he +stood among the Levites, at least in intention; and the Lord alone was +to be the portion of his inheritance and his Cup. + +It was a minute before either of them moved, and during that minute the +maid felt her courage ebb from her like an outgoing tide, leaving a +desolation behind. It was all that she could do not to cry out. + +But when at last Robin made a movement and she had to look him in the +face, what she saw there braced and strengthened her. + +"You are right, Mistress Marjorie," he said both gravely and kindly. "I +will bid you good-day and be getting to my horse." + +He kissed her gently, as the manner was, and went down the path alone. + + + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +It was with a sudden leap of her heart that Marjorie, looking out of her +window at the late autumn landscape, her mind still running on the sheet +of paper that lay before her, saw a capped head, and then a horse's +crest, rise over the broken edge of land up which Robin had ridden so +often two and three years ago. Then she saw who was the rider, and laid +her pen down again. + + * * * * * + +It was two years since the lad had gone to Rheims, and it would be five +years more, she knew (since he was not over quick at his books), before +he would return a priest. She had letters from him: one would come now +and again, a month or two sometimes after the date of writing. It was +only in September that she had had the letter which he had written her +on hearing of her father's death, and Mr. Manners had died in June. She +had written back to him then, a discreet and modest letter enough, +telling him of how Mr. Simpson had read mass over the body before it was +taken down to Derby for the burying; and telling him, too, of her +mother's rheumatics that kept her abed now three parts of the year. For +the rest, the letters were dull enough reading to one who did not +understand them: the news the lad had to give was of a kind that must be +disguised, lest the letters should fall into other hands, since it +concerned the coming and going of priests whose names must not appear. +Yet, for all that, the letters were laid up in a press, and the heap +grew slowly. + +It was Mr. Anthony Babington who was come now to see her, and it was +his third visit since the summer. But she knew well enough what he was +come for, since his young wife, whom he had married last year, was no +use to him in such matters: she had lately had a child, too, and lived +quietly at Dethick with her women. His letters, too, would come at +intervals, carried by a rider, or sometimes some farmer's man on his way +home from Derby, and these letters, too, held dull reading enough for +such as were not in the secret. Yet the magistrates at Derby would have +given a good sum if they could have intercepted and understood them. + +It was in the upper parlour now that she received him. A fire was +burning there, as it had burned so long ago, when Robin found her fresh +from her linen, and Anthony sat down in the same place. She sat by the +window, with the paper in her hands at which she had been writing when +she first saw him. + +He had news for her, of two kinds, and, like a man, gave her first that +which she least wished to hear. (She had first showed him the paper.) + +"That was the very matter I was come about," he said. "You have only a +few of the names, I see. Now the rest will be over before Christmas, and +will all be in London together." + +"Can you not give me the names?" she said. + +"I could give you the names, certainly. And I will do so before I leave; +I have them here. But--Mistress Marjorie, could you not come to London +with me? It would ease the case very much." + +"Why, I could not," she said. "My mother--And what good would it +serve?" + +"This is how the matter stands," said Anthony, crossing his legs. "We +have a dozen priests coming all together--at least, they will not travel +together, of course; but they will all reach London before Christmas, +and there they will hold counsel as to who shall go to the districts. +Eight of them, I have no doubt, will come to the north. There are as +many priests in the south as are safe at the present time--or as are +needed. Now if you were to come with me, mistress--with a serving-maid, +and my sister would be with us--we could meet these priests, and speak +with them, and make their acquaintance. That would remove a great deal +of danger. We must not have that affair again which fell out last +month." + +Marjorie nodded slowly. (It was wonderful how her gravity had grown on +her these last two years.) + +She knew well enough what he meant. It was the affair of the clerk who +had come from Derby on a matter connected with her father's will about +the time she was looking for the arrival of a strange priest, and who +had been so mistaken by her. Fortunately he had been a well-disposed +man, with Catholic sympathies, or grave trouble might have followed. But +this proposal of a visit to London seemed to her impossible. She had +never been to London in her life; it appeared to her as might a voyage +to the moon. Derby seemed oppressingly large and noisy and dangerous; +and Derby, she understood, was scarcely more than a village compared to +London. + +"I could not do it," she said presently. "I could not leave my mother." + +Anthony explained further. + +It was evident that Booth's Edge was becoming more and more a harbour +for priests, owing largely to Mistress Marjorie's courage and piety. It +was well placed; it was remote; and it had so far avoided all suspicion. +Padley certainly served for many, but Padley was nearer the main road; +and besides, had fallen under the misfortune of losing its master for +the very crime of recusancy. It seemed to be all important, therefore, +that the ruling mistress of Booth's Edge, since there was no master, +should meet as many priests as possible, in order that she might both +know and be known by them; and here was such an opportunity as would not +easily occur again. Here were a dozen priests, all to be together at one +time; and of these, at least two-thirds would be soon in the north. How +convenient, therefore, it would be if their future hostess could but +meet them, learn their plans, and perhaps aid them by her counsel. + +But she shook her head resolutely. + +"I cannot do it," she said. + +Anthony made a little gesture of resignation. But, indeed, he had +scarcely hoped to persuade her. He knew it was a formidable thing to ask +of a countrybred maid. + +"Then we must do as well as we can," he said. "In any case, I must go. +There is a priest I have to meet in any case; he is returning as soon as +he has bestowed the rest." + +"Yes?" + +"His name is Ballard. He is known as Fortescue, and passes himself off +as a captain. You would never know him for a priest." + +"He is returning, you say?" + +A shade of embarrassment passed over the young man's face, and Marjorie +saw that there was something behind which she was not to know. + +"Yes," he said, "I have business with him. He is not to come over on the +mission yet, but only to bring the others and see them safe--" + +He broke off suddenly. + +"Why, I was forgetting," he cried. "Our Robin is coming too. I had a +letter from him, and another for you." + +He searched in the breast of his coat, and did not see the sudden +rigidity that fell on the girl. For a moment she sat perfectly still; +her heart had leapt to her throat, it seemed, and was hammering +there.... But by the time he had found the letter she was herself again. + +"Here it is," he said. + +She took it; but made no movement to open it. + +"But he is not to be a priest for five years yet?" she said quietly. + +"No; but they send them sometimes as servants and such like, to make a +party seem what it is not, as well as to learn how to avoid her Grace's +servants. He will go back with Mr. Ballard, I think, after three or four +weeks. You have had letters from him, you told me?" + +She nodded. + +"Yes; but he said nothing of it, but only how much he longed to see +England again." + +"He could not. It has only just been arranged. He has asked to go." + +There was a silence for a moment. But Anthony did not understand what it +meant. He had known nothing of the affair of his friend and this girl, +and he looked upon them merely as a pair of acquaintances, above all, +when he had heard of Robin's determination to go to Rheims. Even the +girl saw that he knew nothing, in spite of her embarrassment, and the +thought that had come to her when she had heard of Robin's coming to +London grew on her every moment. But she thought she must gain time. + +She stood up. + +"You would like to see his letters?" she asked. "I will bring them." + +And she slipped out of the room. + + +II + +Anthony Babington sat still, staring up at Icarus in the chariot of the +Sun, with something of a moody look on his face. + +It was true that he was sincere and active enough in all that he did up +here in the north for the priests of his faith; indeed, he risked both +property and liberty on their behalf, and was willing to continue doing +so as long as these were left to him. But it seemed to him sometimes +that too much was done by spiritual ways and too little by temporal. +Certainly the priesthood and the mass were instruments--and, indeed, the +highest instruments in God's hand; it was necessary to pray and receive +the sacraments, and to run every risk in life for these purposes. Yet it +appeared to him that the highest instruments were not always the best +for such rough work. + +It was now over two years ago since the thought had first come to him, +and since that time he had spared no effort to shape a certain other +weapon, which, he thought, would do the business straight and clean. Yet +how difficult it had been to raise any feeling on the point. At first he +had spoken almost freely to this or that Catholic whom he could trust; +he had endeavoured to win even Robin; and yet, with hardly an exception, +all had drawn back and bidden him be content with a spiritual warfare. +One priest, indeed, had gone so far as to tell him that he was on +dangerous ground ... and the one and single man who up to the present +had seemed on his side, was the very man, Mr. Ballard, then a layman, +whom he had met by chance in London, and who had been the occasion of +first suggesting any such idea. It was, in fact, for the sake of meeting +Ballard again that he was going to London; and, he had almost thought +from his friend's last letter, it had seemed that it was for the sake +of meeting him that Mr. Ballard was coming across once more. + +So the young man sat, with that moody look on his face, until Marjorie +came back, wondering what news he would have from Mr. Ballard, and +whether the plan, at present only half conceived, was to go forward or +be dropped. He was willing enough, as has been said, to work for +priests, and he had been perfectly sincere in his begging Marjorie to +come with him for that very purpose; but there was another work which he +thought still more urgent.... However, that was not to be Marjorie's +affair.... It was work for men only. + + * * * * * + +"Here they are," she said, holding out the packet. + +He took them and thanked her. + +"I may read them at my leisure? I may take them with me?" + +She had not meant that, but there was no help for it now. + +"Why, yes, if you wish," she said. "Stay; let me show you which they +are. You may not wish to take them all." + + * * * * * + +The letters that the two looked over together in that wainscoted parlour +at Booth's Edge lie now in an iron case in a certain muniment-room. They +are yellow now, and the ink is faded to a pale dusky red; and they must +not be roughly unfolded lest they should crack at the creases. But they +were fresh then, written on stout white paper, each occupying one side +of a sheet that was then folded three or four times, sealed, and +inscribed to "Mistress Marjorie Manners" in the middle, with the word +"Haste" in the lower corner. The lines of writing run close together, +and the flourishes on one line interweave now and again with the tails +on the next. + +The first was written within a week of Robin's coming to Rheims, and +told the tale of the sailing, the long rides that followed it, the +pleasure the writer found at coming to a Catholic country, and something +of his adventures upon his arrival with his little party. But names and +places were scrupulously omitted. Dr. Allen was described as "my host"; +and, in more than one instance, the name of a town was inscribed with a +line drawn beneath it to indicate that this was a kind of _alias_. + +The second letter gave some account of the life lived in Rheims--was a +real boy's letter--and this was more difficult to treat with discretion. +It related that studies occupied a certain part of the day; that +"prayers" were held at such and such times, and that the sports +consisted chiefly of a game called "Cat." + +So with the eight or nine that followed. The third and fourth were +bolder, and spoke of certain definitely Catholic practices--of prayers +for the conversion of England, and of mass said on certain days for the +same intention. It seemed as if the writer had grown confident in his +place of security. But later, again, his caution returned to him, and he +spoke in terms so veiled that even Marjorie could scarcely understand +him. Yet, on the whole, the letters, if they had fallen into hostile +hands, would have done no irreparable injury; they would only have +indicated that a Catholic living abroad, in some unnamed university or +college, was writing an account of his life to a Catholic named Mistress +Marjorie Manners, living in England. + + * * * * * + +When the girl had finished her explaining, it was evident that there was +no longer any need for Anthony to take them with him. He said so. + +"Ah! but take them, if you will," cried the girl. + +"It would be better not. You have them safe here. And--" + +Marjorie flushed. She felt that her ruse had been too plain. + +"I would sooner you took them," she said. "You can read them at your +leisure." + +So he accepted, and slipped them into his breast with what seemed to the +girl a lamentable carelessness. Then he stood up. + +"I must go," he said. "And I have never asked after Mistress Manners." + +"She is abed," said the girl. "She has been there this past month now." + +She went with him to the door, for it was not until then that she was +courageous enough to speak as she had determined. + +"Mr. Babington," she said suddenly. + +He turned. + +"I have been thinking while we talked," she said. "You think my coming +to London would be of real service?" + +"I think so. It would be good for you to meet these priests before +they--" + +"Then I will come, if my mother gives me leave. When will you go?" + +"We should be riding in not less than a week from now. But, mistress--" + +"No, I have thought of it. I will come--if my mother gives me leave." + +He nodded briskly and brightly. He loved courage, and he understood that +this decision of hers had required courage. + +"Then my sister shall come for you, and--" + +"No, Mr. Babington, there is no need. We shall start from Derby?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then my maid and I will ride down there and sleep at the inn, and be +ready for you on the day that you appoint." + + * * * * * + +When he was gone at last she went back again to the parlour, and sat +without moving and without seeing. She was in an agony lest she had been +unmaidenly in determining to go so soon as she heard that Robin was to +be there. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +Anthony lifted his whip and pointed. + +"London," he said. + +Marjorie nodded; she was too tired to speak. + + * * * * * + +The journey had taken them some ten days, by easy stages; each night +they had slept at an inn, except once, when they stayed with friends of +the Babingtons and had heard mass. They had had the small and usual +adventures: a horse had fallen lame; a baggage-horse had bolted; they +had passed two or three hunting-parties; they had been stared at in +villages and saluted, and stared at and not saluted. Rain had fallen; +the clouds had cleared again; and the clouds had gathered once more and +rain had again fallen. The sun, morning by morning, had stood on the +left, and evening by evening gone down again on the right. + +They were a small party for so long a journey--the three with four +servants--two men and two maids: the men had ridden armed, as the custom +was; one rode in front, then came the two ladies with Anthony; then the +two maids, and behind them the second man. In towns and villages they +closed up together lest they should be separated, and then spread out +once more as the long, straight track lengthened before them. Anthony +and the two men-servants carried each a case of dags or pistols at the +saddle-bow, for fear of highwaymen. But none had troubled them. + +A strange dreamlike mood had come down on Marjorie. At times it seemed +to her in her fatigue as if she had done nothing all her life but ride; +at times, as she sat rocking, she was living still at home, sitting in +the parlour, watching her mother; the illusion was so clear and +continuous that its departure, when her horse stumbled or a companion +spoke, was as an awaking from a dream. At other times she looked about +her; talked; asked questions. + +She found Mistress Alice Babington a pleasant friend, some ten years +older than herself, who knew London well, and had plenty to tell her. +She was a fair woman, well built and active; very fond of her brother, +whom she treated almost as a mother treats a son; but she seemed not to +be in his confidence, and even not to wish to be; she thought more of +his comfort than of his ideals. She was a Catholic, of course, but of +the quiet, assured kind, and seemed unable to believe that anyone could +seriously be anything else; she seemed completely confident that the +present distress was a passing one, and that when politics had run their +course, it would presently disappear. Marjorie found her as comfortable +as a pillow, when she was low enough to rest on her.... + + * * * * * + +Though Marjorie had nodded only when the spires of London shone up +suddenly in the evening light, a sharp internal interest awakened in +her. It was as astonishing as a miracle that the end should be in sight; +the past ten days had made it seem to her as if all things which she +desired must eternally recede.... She touched her horse unconsciously, +and stared out between his ears, sitting upright and alert again. + +It was not a great deal that met the eye, but it was so disposed as to +suggest a great deal more. Far away to the right lay a faint haze, and +in it appeared towers and spires, with gleams of sharp white here and +there, where some tall building rose above the dark roofs. To the left +again appeared similar signs of another town--the same haze, towers and +spires--linked to the first. She knew what they were; she had heard half +a dozen times already of the two towns that made London--running +continuously in one long line, however, which grew thin by St. Mary's +Hospital and St. Martin's, she was told--the two troops of houses and +churches that had grown up about the two centres of Court and City, +Westminster and the City itself. But it was none the less startling to +see these with her proper eyes. + +Presently, in spite of herself, as she saw the spire of St. Clement's +Dane, where she was told they must turn City-wards, she began to talk, +and Anthony to answer. + + +II + +Dark was beginning to fall and the lamps to be lighted as they rode in +at last half an hour later, across the Fleet Ditch, through Ludgate and +turned up towards Cheapside. They were to stay at an inn where Anthony +was accustomed to lodge when he was not with friends--an inn, too, of +which the landlord was in sympathy with the old ways, and where friends +could come and go without suspicion. It was here, perhaps, that letters +would be waiting for them from Rheims. + +Marjorie had known Derby only among the greater towns, and neither this +nor the towns where she had stayed, night by night, during the journey, +had prepared her in the least for the amazing rush and splendour of the +City itself. A fine, cold rain was falling, and this, she was told, had +driven half the inhabitants within doors; but even so, it appeared to +her that London was far beyond her imaginings. Beneath here, in the deep +and narrow channel of houses up which they rode, narrowed yet further +by the rows of stalls that were ranged along the pathways on either +side, the lamps were kindling swiftly, in windows as well as in the +street; here and there hung great flaring torches, and the vast eaves +and walls overhead shone in the light of the fires where the rich +gilding threw it back. Beyond them again, solemn and towering, leaned +over the enormous roofs; and everywhere, it seemed to her fresh from the +silence and solitude of the country, countless hundreds of moving faces +were turned up to her, from doorways and windows, as well as from the +groups that hurried along under the shelter of the walls; and the air +was full of talking and laughter and footsteps. It meant nothing to her +at present, except inextricable confusion: the gleam of arms as a patrol +passed by; the important little group making its way with torches; the +dogs that scuffled in the roadway; the party of apprentices singing +together loudly, with linked arms, plunging up a side street; the hooded +women chattering together with gestures beneath a low-hung roof; the +calling, from side to side of the twisting street; the bargaining of the +sellers at the stalls--all this, with the rattle of their own horses' +feet and the jingling of the bits, combined only to make a noisy and +brilliant spectacle without sense or signification. + +Mistress Alice glanced at her, smiling. + +"You are tired," she said; "we are nearly there. That is St. Paul's on +the right." + +Ah! that gave her peace.... + +They were turning off from the main street just as her friend spoke; but +she had time to catch a glimpse of what appeared at first sight a mere +gulf of darkness, and then, as they turned, resolved itself into a vast +and solemn pile, grey-lined against black. Lights burned far across the +wide churchyard, as well as in the windows of the high houses that +crowned the wall, and figures moved against the glow, tiny as dolls.... +Then she remembered again: how God had once been worshipped there +indeed, in the great house built to His honour, but was no longer so +worshipped. Or, if it were the same God, as some claimed, at least the +character of Him was very differently conceived.... + + * * * * * + +The "Red Bull" again increased her sense of rest; since all inns are +alike. A curved archway opened on the narrow street; and beneath this +they rode, to find themselves in a paved court, already lighted, +surrounded by window-pierced walls, and high galleries to right and +left. The stamping of horses from the further end; and, almost +immediately, the appearance of a couple of hostlers, showed where the +stables lay. Beside it she could see through the door of the +brightly-lit bake-house. + +She was terribly stiff, as she found when she limped up the three or +four stairs that led up to the door of the living-part of the inn; and +she was glad enough to sit down in a wide, low parlour with her friend +as Mr. Babington went in search of the host. The room was lighted only +by a fire leaping in the chimney; and she could make out little, except +that pieces of stuff hung upon the walls, and a long row of metal +vessels and plates were ranged in a rack between the windows. + +"It is a quiet inn," said Alice. Marjorie nodded again. She was too +tired to speak; and almost immediately Anthony came back, with a tall, +clean-shaven, middle-aged man, in an apron, following behind. + +"It is all well," he said. "We can have our rooms and the parlour +complete. These are the ladies," he added. + +The landlord bowed a little, with a dignity beyond that of his dress. + +"Supper shall be served immediately, madam," he said, with a tactful +impartiality towards them both. + + * * * * * + +They were indeed very pleasant rooms; and, as Anthony had described +them to her, were situated towards the back of the long, low house, on +the first floor, with a private staircase leading straight up from the +yard to the parlour itself. The sleeping-rooms, too, opened upon the +parlour; that which the two ladies were to occupy was furthest from the +yard, for quietness' sake; that in which Anthony and his man would +sleep, upon the other side. The windows of all three looked straight out +upon a little walled garden that appeared to be the property of some +other house. The rooms were plainly furnished, but had a sort of dignity +about them, especially in the carved woodwork about the doors and +windows. There was a fireplace in the parlour, plainly a recent +addition; and a maid rose from kindling the logs and turf, as the two +ladies came back after washing and changing. + +A table was already laid, lit by a couple of candles: it was laid with +fine napery, and the cutlery was clean and solid. Marjorie looked round +the room once more; and, as she sat down, Anthony came in, still in his +mud-splashed dress, carrying three or four letters in his hands. + +"News," he said.... "I will be with you immediately," and vanished into +his room. + + * * * * * + +The sense of home was deepening on Marjorie every moment. This room in +which she sat, might, with a little fancy, be thought to resemble the +hall at Booth's Edge. It was not so high, indeed; but the plain solidity +of the walls and woodwork, the aspect of the supper-table, and the +quiet, so refreshing after the noises of the day, and, above all, after +the din of their mile-long ride through the City--these little things, +together with the knowledge that the journey was done at last, and that +her old friend Robin was, if not already come, at least soon to +arrive--these little things helped to soothe and reassure her. She +wondered how her mother found herself.... + +When Anthony came back, the supper was all laid out. He had given orders +that no waiting was to be done; his own servants would do what was +necessary. He had a bright and interested face, Marjorie thought; and +the instant they were sat down, she knew the reason of it. + +"We are just in time," he said. "These letters have been lying here for +me the last week. They will be here, they tell me, by to-morrow night. +But that is not all--" + +He glanced round the dusky room; then he laid down the knife with which +he was carving; and spoke in a yet lower voice. + +"Father Campion is in the house," he said. + +His sister started. + +"In the house?... Do you mean--" + +He nodded mysteriously, as he took up the knife again. + +"He has been here three or four days. The rooms are full in the ... in +the usual place. And I have spoken with him; he is coming here after +supper. He had already supped." + +Marjorie leaned back in her chair; but she said nothing. From beneath in +the house came the sound of singing, from the tavern parlour where boys +were performing madrigals. + +It seemed to her incredible that she should presently be speaking with +the man, whose name was already affecting England as perhaps no priest's +name had ever affected it. He had been in England, she knew, +comparatively a short time; yet in that time, his name had run like fire +from mouth to mouth. To the minds of Protestants there was something +almost diabolical about the man; he was here, he was there, he was +everywhere, and yet, when the search was up, he was nowhere. Tales were +told of his eloquence that increased the impression that he made a +thousand-fold; it was said that he could wile birds off their branches +and the beasts from their lairs; and this eloquence, it was known, could +be heard only by initiates, in far-off country houses, or in quiet, +unsuspected places in the cities. He preached in some shrouded and +locked room in London one day; and the next, thirty miles off, in a +cow-shed to rustics. And his learning and his subtlety were equal to his +eloquence: her Grace had heard him at Oxford years ago, before his +conversion; and, it was said, would refuse him nothing, even now, if he +would but be reasonable in his religion; even Canterbury, it was +reported, might be his. And if he would not be reasonable--then, as was +fully in accordance with what was known of her Grace, nothing was too +bad for him. + +Such feeling then, on the part of Protestants, found its fellow in that +of the Catholics. He was their champion, as no other man could be. Had +he not issued his famous "challenge" to any and all of the Protestant +divines, to meet them in any argument on religion that they cared to +select, in any place and at any time, if only his own safe-conduct were +secure? And was it not notorious that none would meet him? He was, +indeed, a fire, a smoke in the nostrils of his adversaries, a flame in +the hearts of his friends. Everywhere he ranged, he and his comrade, +Father Persons, sometimes in company, sometimes apart; and wherever they +went the Faith blazed up anew from its dying embers, in the lives of +rustic knave and squire. + +And she was to see him! + + * * * * * + +"He is here for four or five days only," went on Anthony presently, +still in a low, cautious voice. "The hunt is very hot, they say. Not +even the host knows who he is; or, at least, makes that he does not. He +is under another name, of course; it is Mr. Edmonds, this time. He was +in Essex, he tells me; but comes to the wolves' den for safety. It is +safer, he says, to sit secure in the midst of the trap, than to wander +about its doors; for when the doors are opened he can run out again, if +no one knows he is there...." + + +III + +When supper was finished at last, and the maids had borne away the +dishes, there came almost immediately a tap upon the door; and before +any could answer, there walked in a man, smiling. + +He was of middle-size, dressed in a dark, gentleman's suit, carrying his +feathered hat in his hand, with his sword. He appeared far younger than +Marjorie had expected--scarcely more than thirty years old, of a dark +and yet clear complexion, large-eyed, with a look of humour; his hair +was long and brushed back; and a soft, pointed beard and moustache +covered the lower part of his face. He moved briskly and assuredly, as +one wholly at his ease. + +"I am come to the right room?" he said. "That is as well." + +His voice, too, had a ring of gaiety in it; it was low, quite clear and +very sympathetic; and his manners, as Marjorie observed, were those of a +cultivated gentleman, without even a trace of the priest. She would not +have been astonished if she had been told that the man was of the court, +or some great personage of the country. There was no trace of furtive +hurry or of alarm about him; he moved deftly and confidently; and when +he sat down, after the proper greetings, crossed one leg over the other, +so that he could nurse his foot. It seemed more incredible even than she +had thought, that this was Father Campion! + +"You have pleasant rooms here, and music to cheer you, too," he said. +"I understand that you are often here, Mr. Babington." + +Anthony explained that he found them convenient and very secure. + +"Roberts is a prudent landlord," he said. + +Father Campion nodded. + +"He knows his own business, which is what few landlords do, in these +degenerate days; and he knows nothing at all of his guests'. In that he +is even more of an exception." + +His eyes twinkled delightfully at the ladies. + +"And so," he said, "God blesses him in those who use his house." + +They talked for a few minutes in this manner. Father Campion spoke of +the high duty that lay on all country ladies to make themselves +acquainted with the sights of the town; and spoke of three or four of +these. Her Grace, of course, must be seen; that was the greatest sight +of all. They must make an opportunity for that; and there would surely +be no difficulty, since her Grace liked nothing better than to be looked +at. And they must go up the river by water, if the weather allowed, from +the Tower to Westminster; not from Westminster to the Tower, since that +was the way that traitors came, and no good Catholic could, even in +appearance, be a traitor. And, if they pleased, he would himself be +their guide for a part of their adventures. He was to lie hid, he told +them; and he knew no better way to do that than to flaunt as boldly as +possible in the open ways. + +"If I lay in my room," said he, "with a bolt drawn, I would soon have +some busy fellow knocking on the door to know what I did there. But if I +could but dine with her Grace, or take an hour with Mr. Topcliffe, I +should be secure for ever." + +Marjorie glanced shyly towards Alice, as if to ask a question. (She was +listening, it seemed to her, with every nerve in her tired body.) The +priest saw the glance. + +"Mr. Topcliffe, madam? Well; let us say he is a dear friend of the +Lieutenant of the Tower, and has, I think, lodgings there just now. And +he is even a friend of Catholics, too--to such, at least, as desire a +heavenly crown." + +"He is an informer and a tormentor!" broke in Anthony harshly. + +"Well, sir; let us say that he is very loyal to the letter of the law; +and that he presides over our Protestant bed of Procrustes." + +"The--" began Marjorie, emboldened by the kindness of the priest's +voice. + +"The bed of Procrustes, madam, was a bed to which all who lay upon it +had to be conformed. Those that were too long were made short; and those +that were too short were made long. It is a pleasant classical name for +the rack." + +Marjorie caught her breath. But Father Campion went on smoothly. + +"We shall have a clear day to-morrow, I think," he said. "If you are at +liberty, sir, and these ladies are not too wearied--I have a little +business in Westminster; and--" + +"Why, yes," said Anthony, "for to-morrow night we expect friends. From +Rheims, sir." + +The priest dropped his foot and leaned forward. + +"From Rheims?" he said sharply. + +The other nodded. + +"Eight or ten at least will arrive. Not all are priests. One is a friend +of our own from Derbyshire, who will not be made priest for five years +yet." + +"I had not heard they were to come so soon," said Father Campion. "And +what a company of them!" + +"There are a few of them who have been here before. Mr. Ballard is one +of them." + +The priest was silent an instant. + +"Mr. Ballard," he said. "Ballard! Yes; he has been here before. He +travels as Captain Fortescue, does he not? You are a friend of his?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Father Campion made as if he would speak; but interrupted himself and +was silent; and it seemed to Marjorie as if another mood was fallen on +him. And presently they were talking again of London and its sights. + + +IV + +In spite of her weariness, Marjorie could not sleep for an hour or two +after she had gone to bed. It was an extraordinary experience to her to +have fallen in, on the very night of her coming to London, with the one +man whose name stood to her for all that was gallant in her faith. As +she lay there, listening to the steady breathing of Alice, who knew no +such tremors of romance, to the occasional stamp of a horse across the +yard, and, once or twice, to voices and footsteps passing on some paved +way between the houses, she rehearsed again and again to herself the +tales she had heard of him. + +Now and again she thought of Robin. She wondered whether he, too, one +day (and not of necessity a far-distant day, since promotion came +quickly in this war of faith), would occupy some post like that which +this man held so gaily and so courageously; and for the first time, +perhaps, she understood not in vision merely, but in sober thought, what +the life of a priest in those days signified. Certainly she had met man +after man before--she had entertained them often enough in her mother's +place, and had provided by her own wits for their security--men who +went in peril of liberty and even of life; but here, within the walls of +London, in this "wolves' den" as Father Campion had called it, where men +brushed against one another continually, and looked into a thousand +faces a day, where patrols went noisily with lights and weapons, where +the great Tower stood, where her Grace, the mistress of the wolves, had +her dwelling--here, peril assumed another aspect, and pain and death +another reality, from that which they presented on the wind-swept hills +and the secret valleys of the country from which they came.... And it +was with Father Campion himself, in his very flesh, that she had talked +this evening--it was Father Campion who had given her that swift, kindly +look of commendation, as Mr. Babington had spoken of her reason for +coming to London, and of her hospitality to wandering priests--Father +Campion, the Angel of the Church, was in England. And to-morrow Robin, +too, would be here. + + * * * * * + +Then, as sleep began to come down on her tired and excited brain, and to +form, as so often under such conditions, little visible images, even +before the reason itself is lulled, there began to pass before her, +first tiny and delicate pictures of what she had seen to-day--the low +hills to the north of London, dull and dark below the heavy sky, but +light immediately above the horizon as the sun sank down; the appearance +of her horse's ears--those ears and that tuft of wayward mane between +them of which she had grown so weary; the lighted walls of the London +streets; the monstrous shadows of the eaves; the flare of lights; the +moving figures--these came first; and then faces--Father Campion's, +smiling, with white teeth and narrowed eyes, bright against the dark +chimney-breast; Alice's serene features, framed in flaxen hair; and +then, as sleep had all but conquered her, the imagination sent up one +last idea, and a face came into being before her, so formless yet so +full, so sinister, so fierce and so distorted, that she drew a sudden +breath and sat up, trembling.... + +... Why had they spoken to her of Topcliffe?... + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +It was a soft winter's morning as the party came down the little slope +towards the entrance-gate of the Tower next day. The rain last night had +cleared the air, and the sun shone as through thin veils of haze, kindly +and sweet. The river on the right was at high tide, and up from the +water's edge came the cries of the boatmen, pleasant and invigorating. + +The sense of unreality was deeper than ever on Marjorie's mind. One +incredible thing after another, known to her only in the past by rumour +and description, and imagined in a frame of glory, was taking shape +before her eyes.... She was in London; she had slept in Cheapside; she +had talked with Father Campion; he was with her now; this was the Tower +of London that lay before her, a monstrous huddle of grey towers and +battlemented walls along which passed the scarlet of a livery and the +gleam of arms. + +All the way that they had walked, her eyes had been about her +everywhere--the eyes of a startled child, through which looked the soul +of a woman. She had seen the folks go past like actors in a +drama--London merchants, apprentices, a party of soldiers, a group on +horseback: she had seen a congregation pour out of the doors of some +church whose name she had asked and had forgotten again; the cobbled +patches of street had been a marvel to her; the endless roofs, the white +and black walls, the leaning windows, the galleries where heads moved; +the vast wharfs; the crowding masts, resembling a stripped forest; the +rolling-gaited sailors; and, above all, the steady murmur of voices and +footsteps, never ceasing, beyond which the crowing of cocks and the +barking of dogs sounded far off and apart--these things combined to make +a kind of miracle that all at once delighted, oppressed and bewildered +her. + +Here and there some personage had been pointed out to her by the trim, +merry gentleman who walked by her side with his sword swinging. (Anthony +went with his sister just behind, as they threaded their way through the +crowded streets, and the two men-servants followed.) She saw a couple of +City dignitaries in their furs, with stavesmen to clear their road; a +little troop of the Queen's horse, blazing with colour, under the +command of a young officer who might have come straight from Romance. +But she was more absorbed--or, rather, she returned every instant to the +man who walked beside her with such an air and talked so loudly and +cheerfully. Certainly, it seemed to her, his disguise was perfect, and +himself the best part of it. She compared him in her mind with a couple +of ministers, splendid and awful in their gowns and ruffs, whom they had +met turning into one of the churches just now, and smiled at the +comparison; and yet perhaps these were preachers too, and eloquent in +their own fashion. + +And now, here was the Tower--the end of all things, so far as London was +concerned. Beyond it she saw the wide rolling hills, the bright reaches +of the river, and the sparkle of Placentia, far away. + +"Her Grace is at Westminster these days," exclaimed the priest; "she is +moving to Hampton Court in a day or two; so I doubt not we shall be able +to go in and see a little. We shall see, at least, the outside of the +Paradise where so many holy ones have lived and died. There are three or +four of them here now; but the most of them are in the Fleet or the +Marshalsea." + +Marjorie glanced at him. She did not understand. + +"I mean Catholic prisoners, mistress. There are several of them in ward +here, but we had better speak no names." + +He wheeled suddenly as they came out into the open and moved to the +left. + +"There is Tower Hill, mistress; where my lord Cardinal Fisher died, and +Thomas More." + +Marjorie stopped short. But there was nothing great to see--only a +rising ground, empty and bare, with a few trimmed trees; the ground was +without grass; a few cobbled paths crossed this way and that. + +"And here is the gateway," he said, "whence they come out to glory.... +And there on the right" (he swept his arm towards the river) "you may +see, if you are fortunate, other criminals called pirates, hung there +till they be covered by three tides." + + * * * * * + +Still standing there, with Mr. Babington and his sister come up from +behind, he began to relate the names of this tower and of that, in the +great tumbled mass of buildings surmounted by the high keep. But +Marjorie paid no great attention except with an effort: she was brooding +rather on the amazing significance of all that she saw. It was under +this gateway that the martyrs came; it was from those windows in that +tower which the priest had named just now, that they had looked.... And +this was Father Campion. She turned and watched him as he talked. He was +dressed as he had been dressed last night, but with a small cloak thrown +over his shoulders; he gesticulated freely and easily, pointing out this +and that; now and again his eyes met hers, and there was nothing but a +grave merriment in them.... Only once or twice his voice softened, as he +spoke of those great ones that had shown Catholics how both to die and +live. + +"And now," he said, "with your permission I will go and speak to the +guard, and see if we may have entrance." + + * * * * * + +It was almost with terror that she saw him go--a solitary man, with a +price on his head, straight up to those whose business it was to catch +him--armed men, as she could see--she could even see the quilted jacks +they wore--who, it may be, had talked of him in the guard-room only last +night. But his air was so assured and so magnificent that even she began +to understand how complete such a disguise might be; and she watched him +speaking with the officer with a touch even of his own humour in her +heart. Indeed, there was some truth in the charge of Jesuitry, after +all! + +Then the figure turned and beckoned, and they went forward. + + +II + +A certain horror, in spite of herself and her company, fell on her as +she passed beneath the solid stone vaulting, passed along beneath the +towering wall, turned up from the water-gate, and came out into the wide +court round which the Lieutenant's lodgings, the little church, and the +enormous White Tower itself are grouped. There was a space, not enclosed +in any way, but situated within a web of paths, not far from the church, +that caught her attention. She stood looking at it. + +"Yes, mistress," said the priest behind her. "That is the place of +execution for those who die within the Tower--those usually of royal +blood. My Lady Salisbury died there, and my Lady Jane Grey, and others." + +He laid his hand gently on her arm. + +"You must not look so grave," he said, "you must gape more. You are a +country-cousin, madam." + +And she smiled in spite of herself, as she met his eyes. + +"Tell me everything," she said. + +They went together nearer to the church, and faced about. + +"We can see better from here," he said. Then he began. + +First there was the Lieutenant's lodging on the right. They must look +well at that. Interviews had taken place there that had made history. +(He mentioned a few names.) Then, further down on the right, beyond that +corner round which they had come just now, was the famous water-gate, +called "Traitors' Gate," through which passed those convicted of treason +at Westminster, or, at least, those who were under grave suspicion. Such +as these came, of course, by water, as prisoners on whose behalf a +demonstration might perhaps be made if they came by land. So, at least, +he understood was the reason of the custom. + +"Her Grace herself once came that way," he said with a twinkle. "Now she +sends other folks in her stead." + +Then he pointed out more clearly the White Tower. It was there that the +Council sat on affairs of importance. + +"And it is there--" began Anthony harshly. + +The priest turned to him, suddenly grave, as if in reproof. + +"Yes," he said softly. "It is there that the passion of the martyrs +begins." + +Marjorie turned sharply. + +"You mean--" + +"Well," he said, "it is there that the Council sits to examine prisoners +both before and after the Question. They are taken downstairs to the +Question, and brought back again after it. It was there that--" + +He broke off. + +"Who is this?" he said. + +The court had been empty while they talked except that on the far side, +beneath the towering cliff of the keep, a sentry went to and fro. But +now another man had come into view, walking up from the way they +themselves had come; and it would appear from the direction he took that +he would pass within twenty or thirty yards of them. He was a tall man, +dressed in sad-coloured clothes, with a felt hat on his head and the +usual sword by his side. He was plainly something of a personage, for he +walked easily and confidently. He was still some distance off; but it +was possible to make out that he was sallowish in complexion, wore a +trimmed beard, and had something of a long throat. + +Father Campion stared at him a moment, and, as he stared, Marjorie heard +Mr. Babington utter a sudden exclamation. Then the priest, with one +quick glance at him, murmured something which Marjorie could not hear, +and walked briskly off to meet the stranger. + +"Come," said Anthony in a sharp, low voice, "we must see the church." + +"Who is it?" whispered Mistress Alice, with even her serene face a +little troubled. + +For the first moment, as they walked towards the entrance of the church, +Anthony said nothing. Then as they reached it, he said, in a tone quite +low and yet full of suppressed passion of some kind, a name that +Marjorie could not catch. + +She turned before they went in, and looked again. + +The priest was talking to the stranger, and was making gestures, as if +asking for direction. + +"Who is it, Mr. Babington?" she asked again as they went in. "I did +not--" + +"Topcliffe," said Anthony. + + +III + +The horror was still on the girl, as they went, an hour later, up the +ebbing tide towards Westminster, in a boat rowed by a waterman and one +of their own servants. About them was a scene, of which the very +thought, a month ago, would have absorbed and fascinated her. They had +scarcely passed through London Bridge finding themselves just in time +before the fall of the water would have hindered their passage, leaving +out of sight the grey sunlit heap of buildings from which they had come. +All about them the river was gay with shipping. Wherries, like clumsy +water-beetles, lurched along out of the current, or slipped out suddenly +to make their way across from one stairs to another; a great barge, +coming down-stream, grew larger every instant, its prow bright with +gilding, and the throb of the twelve oars in the row-locks coming to +them like the grunting of a beast. On either side of the broad stream +rose the houses and the churches, those on this side visible down to +their shining window-panes in the sunlight, and the very texture of +their tiled roofs; those on the other a mere huddle of countless walls +and gables, in the shadow; and between them showed the leafless trees, +stretches of green meadow, across which moved tiny figures, and the +brown flats of the marshes beyond, broken here and there by outlying +villages a mile or two away. Behind them now towered the great buildings +on London Bridge--the chapel, the houses, the old gateway on the south +end, above which the impaled heads of traitors stood out against the +bright sky. It was a tolerable crop just now, the priest had said, +bitterly smiling. But, above all else, as the boat moved up, Marjorie +kept her eyes fixed on far-off Westminster, on the grey towers and the +white walls where Elizabeth reigned and Saint Edward slept; while within +her mind, clear as a picture, she saw still the empty court, as she had +seen it when the priest fetched them out again from the church--empty at +last of the hateful presence which he had faced so confidently. + + * * * * * + +"It appeared to me best to speak with him openly," said the priest +quietly, as they had waited ten minutes later on the wharf outside the +Tower, while the men ran to make ready their boat. "I do not know why, +but I suppose I am one of those who better like their danger in front +than behind. I knew him at once; I have had him pointed out to me two or +three times before. So I looked him in the eyes, and asked him whether +some ladies from the country might be permitted to see the White Tower, +and to whom we had best apply. He told me that was not his affair, and +looked me up and down as he said it. And then he went his way to ... the +White Tower, where I doubt not he had business." + +"He said no more?" asked Anthony. + +"No, he said no more. But I shall know him again better next time, and +he me." + + * * * * * + +It seemed of evil omen to the girl that she should have had such an +encounter on the day that Robin came back. Like all persons who dwell +much in the country, a world that was neither that of the flesh nor yet +of the spirit was that in which she largely moved--a world of strange +laws, and auspices, and this answering to this and that to that. It is a +state inconceivable to those who live in the noise and movement of +town--who find town-life, that is, the life in which they are most at +ease. For where men have made the earth that is trodden underfoot, and +have largely veiled the heavens themselves, it is but natural that they +should think that they have made everything, and that it is they who +rule it. + +As they drew nearer Westminster then, it was with Marjorie as it had +been when they came to the Tower. The priest was busy pointing out this +or that building--the Palace towers, the Hall, the Abbey behind, and St. +Margaret's Church, as well as the smaller buildings of the Court, and +the little town that lay round about. But she listened as she listened +to the noise that came from the streets clear across the water, +attending to it, yet scarcely distinguishing one thing from another, and +forgetting each as soon as she heard it. She was thinking all the while +of Robin, and of the man whose face she had seen, of his beard and his +long throat. Well, at least, Robin was not yet a priest.... + + * * * * * + +The boat was already nearing the King's Stairs at Westminster, when a +new event happened that for a while distracted her. + +The first they saw of it was the sight of a number of men and women +running in a disorderly mob, calling out as they ran, along the +river-bank in the direction from Charing Old Cross towards Palace Yard. +They appeared excited, but not by fear; and it was plain that something +was taking place of which they wished to have a sight. As the priest +stood up in the boat in order to have a clearer sight of what lay above +the bank, three or four trumpet-calls of a peculiar melody, rang out +clear and distinct, echoed back by the walls round about, plainly +audible above the rising noise of a crowd that, it seemed, must be +gathering out of sight. The priest sat down again and his face was +merry. + +"You have come on a fortunate day, mistress," he said to Marjorie. +"First Topcliffe, and now her Grace; if we make haste we may see her +pass by." + +"Her Grace?" + +"She will be going to dinner in Whitehall, after having taken the air +by the river. They will be passing the Abbey now. But she will not be in +her supreme state; I am sorry for that." + + * * * * * + +As they rowed in quickly over the last hundred yards that lay between +them and the stairs, Marjorie listened to the priest as he described +something of what the "supreme state" signified. He spoke of the long +lines of carriages, filled with the ladies and the infirm, preceded by +the pikemen, and the gentlemen pensioners carrying wands, and the +knights followed by the heralds. Behind these, he said, came the +officers of State immediately before the Queen's carriage, and after her +the guards of her person. + +"But this will be but a tame affair," he said. "I wish you could have +seen a Progress, with the arches and the speeches and the declamations, +and the heathen gods and goddesses that reign round our Eliza, when she +will go to Ashridge or Havering. I have heard it said--" + +And then the prow of the boat, turned deftly at the last instant, grated +along the lowest stair, and the waterman was out to steady his craft. + + +IV + +It was the very crown and summit of new sensation that Marjorie attained +as she stood in an open gallery that looked on to the road from +Westminster to Whitehall. Father Campion, speaking of a "good friend" of +his that had his lodgings there, led them by a short turning or two, +that avoided the crowd, straight to the door of what appeared to +Marjorie a mere warren of rooms, stairs and passages. A grave little +man, with a pen behind his ear, ran out upon their knocking at one of +these doors, and led them straight through, smiling and talking, out +into this very gallery where they now stood; and then vanished again. + +The gallery was such as those which Marjorie had noted on the way to the +Tower; a high-hung, airy place, running the length of the house, +contrived on the level of the second floor, with the first floor roof +beneath and overhanging attics above. It was supported on massive oak +beams, and protected from the street by a low balustrade of a height to +lean the elbows upon it. It was on this balustrade that Marjorie leaned, +looking down into the street. + +To the left the narrow roadway curved off out of sight in the direction +of Palace Yard; on the right she could make out, a hundred yards away, +some kind of a gateway, that strode across the street, and gave access, +she supposed, to the Palace. Opposite, the windows were filled with +faces, and an enthusiastic loyalist was leaning, red-faced and +vociferous, calling to a friend in the crowd beneath, from a gallery +corresponding to that from which the girl was looking. + +Of the procession nothing was at present to be seen. They had caught a +glimpse of colour somewhere to the east of the Abbey as they turned off +opposite Westminster Hall; and already the cry of the trumpets and the +increasing noise of a crowd out of sight, told the listeners that they +would not have long to wait. + +Beneath, the crowd was arranging itself with admirable discipline, +dispersing in long lines two or three deep against the walls, so as to +leave a good space, and laughing good-humouredly at a couple of +officious persons in livery who had suddenly made their appearance. And +then, as the country girl herself smiled down, an exclamation from Alice +made her turn. + +At first it was difficult to discern anything clearly in the stream +whose head began to discharge itself round the curve from the left. A +row of brightly-coloured uniforms, moving four abreast, came first, +visible above the tossing heads of horses. Then followed a group of +guards, whose steel caps passed suddenly into the sunlight that caught +them from between the houses, and went again into shadow. + +And then at last, she caught a glimpse of the carriage, followed by +ladies on grey horses; and forgot all the rest. + +This way and that she craned her head, gripping the oak post by which +she leaned, unconscious of all except that she was to see her in whom +England itself seemed to have been incarnated--the woman who, as perhaps +no other earthly sovereign in the world at that time, or before her, had +her people in a grasp that was not one of merely regal power. Even far +away in Derbyshire--even in the little country manor from which the girl +came, the aroma of that tremendous presence penetrated--of the woman +whom men loved to hail as the Virgin Queen, even though they might +question her virginity; the woman--"our Eliza," as the priest had named +her just now--who had made so shrewd an act of faith in her people that +they had responded with an unreserved act of love. It was this woman, +then, whom she was about to see; the sister of Mary and Edward, the +daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn, who had received her kingdom +Catholic, and by her own mere might had chosen to make it Protestant; +the woman whose anointed hands were already red in the blood of God's +servants, yet hands which men fainted as they kissed.... + +Then on a sudden, as Elizabeth lifted her head this side and that, the +girl saw her. + +She was sitting in a low carriage, raised on cushions, alone. Four tall +horses drew her at a slow trot: the wheels of the carriage were deep in +mud, since she had driven for an hour over the deep December roads; but +this added rather to the splendour within. But of this Marjorie +remembered no more than an uncertain glimpse. The air was thick with +cries; from window after window waved hands; and, more than all, the +loyalty was real, and filled the air like brave music. + +There, then, she sat, smiling. + +She was dressed in some splendid stuff; jewels sparkled beneath her +throat. Once a hand in an embroidered glove rose to wave an answer to +the roar of salute; and, as the carriage came beneath, she raised her +face. + +It was a thin face, sharply pear-shaped, ending in a pointed chin; a +tight mouth smiled at the corners; above her narrow eyes and high brows +rose a high forehead, surmounted by strands of auburn hair drawn back +tightly beneath the little head-dress. It was a strangely peaked face, +very clear-skinned, and resembled in some manner a mask. But the look of +it was as sharp as steel; like a slender rapier, fragile and thin, yet +keen enough to run a man through. The power of it, in a word, was out of +all measure with the slightness of the face.... Then the face dropped; +and Marjorie watched the back of the head bending this way and that, +till the nodding heads that followed hid it from sight. + +Marjorie drew a deep breath and turned. The faces of her friends were as +pale and intent as her own. Only the priest was as easy as ever. + +"So that is our Eliza," he said. + +Then he did a strange thing. + +He lifted his cap once more with grave seriousness. "God save her +Grace!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +Robin bowed to her very carefully, and stood upright again. + + * * * * * + +She had seen in an instant how changed he was, in that swift instant in +which her eyes had singled him out from the little crowd of men that had +come into the room with Anthony at their head. It was a change which she +could scarcely have put into words, unless she had said that it was the +conception of the Levite within his soul. He was dressed soberly and +richly, with a sword at his side, in great riding-boots splashed to the +knees with mud, with his cloak thrown back; and he carried his great +brimmed hat in his hand. All this was as it might have been in Derby, +though, perhaps, his dress was a shade more dignified than that in which +she had ever seen him. But the change was in his face and bearing; he +bore himself like a man, and a restrained man; and there was besides +that subtle air which her woman's eyes could see, but which even her +woman's wit could not properly describe. + +She made room for him to sit beside her; and then Father Campion's voice +spoke: + +"These are the gentlemen, then," he said. "And two more are not yet +come. Gentlemen--" he bowed. "And which is Captain Fortescue?" + +A big man, distinguished from the rest by a slightly military air, and +by a certain vividness of costume and a bristling feather in his hat, +bowed back to him. + +"We have met once before, Mr.--Mr. Edmonds," he said. "At Valladolid." + +Father Campion smiled. + +"Yes, sir; for five or ten minutes; and I was in the same room with your +honour once at the Duke of Guise's.... And now, sir, who are the rest of +your company?" + +The others were named one by one; and Marjorie eyed each of them +carefully. It was her business to know them again if ever they should +meet in the north; and for a few minutes the company moved here and +there, bowing and saluting, and taking their seats. There were still a +couple of men who were not yet come; but these two arrived a few minutes +later; and it was not until she had said a word or two to them all, and +Father Campion had named her and her good works, to them, that she found +herself back again with Robin in a seat a little apart. + +"You look very well," she said, with an admirable composure. + +His eyes twinkled. + +"I am as weary as a man can be," he said. "We have ridden since before +dawn.... And you, and your good works?" + +Marjorie explained, describing to him something of the system by which +priests were safeguarded now in the north--the districts into which the +county was divided, and the apportioning of the responsibilities among +the faithful houses. It was her business, she said, to receive messages +and to pass them on; she had entertained perhaps a dozen priests since +the summer; perhaps she would entertain him, too, one day, she said. + + * * * * * + +The ordeal was far lighter than she had feared it would be. There was a +strong undercurrent of excitement in her heart, flushing her cheeks and +sparkling in her eyes; yet never for one moment was she even tempted to +forget that he was now vowed to God. It seemed to her as if she talked +with him in the spirit of that place where there is neither marrying nor +giving in marriage. Those two years of quiet in the north, occupied, +even more than she recognised, in the rearranging of her relations with +the memory of this young man, had done their work. She still kindled at +his presence; but it was at the presence of one who had undertaken an +adventure that destroyed altogether her old relations with him.... She +was enkindled even more by the sense of her own security; and, as she +looked at him, by the sense of his security too. Robin was gone; here, +instead, was young Mr. Audrey, seminary student, who even in a court of +law could swear before God that he was not a priest, nor had been +"ordained beyond the seas." + +So they sat and exchanged news. She told him of the rumours of his +father that had come to her from time to time; he would be a magistrate +yet, it was said, so hot was his loyalty. Even her Grace, it was +reported, had vowed she wished she had a thousand such country gentlemen +on whose faithfulness she could depend. And Robin gave her news of the +seminary, of the hours of rising and sleeping, of the sports there; of +the confessors for the faith who came and went; of Dr. Allen. He told +her, too, of Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam; he often had talked with them +of Derbyshire, he said. It was very peaceful and very stirring, too, to +sit here in the lighted parlour, and hear and give the news; while the +company, gathered round Anthony and Father Campion, talked in low +voices, and Mistress Babington, placid, watched them and listened. He +showed her, too, Mr. Maine's beads which she had given him so long ago, +hung in a little packet round his neck. + + * * * * * + +More than once, as they talked, Marjorie found herself looking at Mr. +Ballard, or, as he was called here, Captain Fortescue. It was he who +seemed the leader of the troop; and, indeed, as Robin told her in a +whisper, that was what he was. He came and went frequently, he said; his +manner and his carriage were reassuring to the suspicious; he appeared, +perhaps, the last man in the world to be a priest. He was a big man, as +has been said; and he had a frank assured way with him; he was leaning +forward, even now, as she looked at him, and seemed laying down the law, +though in what was almost a whisper. Father Campion was watching him, +too, she noticed; and, what she had learned of Father Campion in the +last few hours led her to wonder whether there was not something of +doubtfulness in his opinion of him. + +Father Campion suddenly shook his head sharply. + +"I am not of that view at all," he said. "I--" + +And once more his voice sank so low as to be inaudible; as the rest +leaned closer about him. + + +II + +Mr. Anthony Babington seemed silent and even a little displeased when, +half an hour later, the visitors were all gone downstairs to supper. +Three or four of them were to sleep in the house; the rest, of whom +Robin was one, had Captain Fortescue's instructions as to where lodgings +were prepared. But the whole company was tired out with the long ride +from the coast, and would be seen no more that night. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie knew enough of the divisions of opinion among Catholics, and of +Mr. Babington in particular, to have a general view as to why her +companion was displeased; but more than that she did not know, nor what +point in particular it was on which the argument had run. The one +party--of Mr. Babington's kind--held that Catholics were, morally, in a +state of war. War had been declared upon them, without justification, +by the secular authorities, and physical instruments, including +pursuivants and the rack, were employed against them. Then why should +not they, too, employ the same kind of instruments, if they could, in +return? The second party held that a religious persecution could not be +held to constitute a state of war; the Apostles Peter and Paul, for +example, not only did not employ the arm of flesh against the Roman +Empire, but actually repudiated it. And this party further held that +even the Pope's bull, relieving Elizabeth's subjects from their +allegiance, did so only in an interior sense--in such a manner that +while they must still regard her personal and individual rights--such +rights as any human being possessed--they were not bound to render +interior loyalty to her as their Queen, and need not, for example +(though they were not forbidden to do so), regard it as a duty to fight +for her, in the event, let us say, of an armed invasion from Spain. + +There, then, was the situation; and Mr. Anthony had, plainly, crossed +swords this evening on the point. + +"The Jesuit is too simple," he said suddenly, as he strode about. "I +think--" He broke off. + +His sister smiled upon him placidly. + +"You are too hot, Anthony," she said. + +The man turned sharply towards her. + +"All the praying in the world," he said, "has not saved us so far. It +seems to me time--" + +"Perhaps our Lord would not have us saved," she said; "as you mean it." + + +III + +It was not until Christmas Eve that Marjorie went to St. Paul's, for all +that it was so close. But the days were taken up with the visitors; a +hundred matters had to be arranged; for it was decided that before the +New Year all were to be dispersed. Captain Fortescue and Robin were to +leave again for the Continent on the day following Christmas Day itself. + +Marjorie made acquaintance during these days with more than one +meeting-place of the Catholics in London. One was a quiet little house +near St. Bartholomew's-the-Great, where a widow had three or four sets +of lodgings, occupied frequently by priests and by other Catholics, who +were best out of sight; and it was here that mass was to be said on +Christmas Day. Another was in the Spanish Embassy; and here, to her joy, +she looked openly upon a chapel of her faith, and from the gallery +adored her Lord in the tabernacle. But even this was accomplished with +an air of uneasiness in those round her; the Spanish priest who took +them in walked quickly and interrupted them before they were done, and +seemed glad to see the last of them. It was explained to Marjorie that +the ambassador did not wish to give causeless offence to the Protestant +court. + +And now, on Christmas Eve, Robin, Anthony and the two ladies entered the +Cathedral as dusk was falling--first passing through the burial-ground, +over the wall of which leaned the rows of houses in whose windows lights +were beginning to burn. + +The very dimness of the air made the enormous heights of the great +church more impressive. Before them stretched the long nave, over seven +hundred feet from end to end; from floor to roof the eye travelled up +the bunches of slender pillars to the dark ceiling, newly restored after +the fire, a hundred and fifty feet. The tall windows on either side, and +the clerestory lights above, glimmered faintly in the darkening light. + +But to the Catholic eyes that looked on it the desolation was more +apparent than the splendour. There were plenty of people here, indeed: +groups moved up and down, talking, directing themselves more and more +towards the exits, as the night was coming on and the church would be +closed presently; in one aisle a man was talking aloud, as if lecturing, +with a crowd of heads about him. In another a number of soberly dressed +men were putting up their papers and ink on the little tables that stood +in a row--this was Scriveners' Corner, she was told; from a third half a +dozen persons were dejectedly moving away--these were servants that had +waited to be hired. But the soul of the place was gone. When they came +out into the transepts, Anthony stopped them with a gesture, while a +couple of porters, carrying boxes on their heads, pushed by, on their +short cut through the cathedral. + +"It was there," he said, "that the altars stood." + +He pointed between the pillars on either side, and there, up little +raised steps, lay the floors of the chapels. But within all was empty, +except for a tomb or two, some tattered colours and the _piscinae_ still +in place. Where the altars had stood there were blank spaces of wall; +piled up in one such place were rows of wooden seats set there for want +of room. + +Opposite the entrance to the choir, where once overhead had hung the +great Rood, the four stood and looked in, through a gap which the masons +were mending in the high wall that had bricked off the chancel from the +nave. On either side, as of old, still rose up the towering carven +stalls; the splendid pavement still shone beneath, refracting back from +its surface the glimmer of light from the stained windows above; but the +head of the body was gone. Somewhere, beneath the deep shadowed altar +screen, they could make out an erection that might have been an altar, +only they knew that it was not. It was no longer the Stone of +Sacrifice, whence the smoke of the mystical Calvary ascended day by +day: it was the table, and no more, where bread and wine were eaten and +drunk in memory of an event whose deathless energy had ceased, in this +place, at least, to operate. Yet it was here, thought Marjorie, that +only forty years ago, scarcely more than twenty years before she was +born, on this very Night, the great church had hummed and vibrated with +life. Round all the walls had sat priests, each in his place; and beside +each kneeled a penitent, making ready for the joy of Bethlehem once +again--wise and simple--Shepherds and Magi--yet all simple before the +baffling and entrancing Mystery. There had been footsteps and voices +there too--yet of men who were busy upon their Father's affairs in their +Father's house, and not upon their own. They were going from altar to +altar, speaking with their Friends at Court; and here, opposite where +she stood and peeped in the empty cold darkness, there had burned lights +before the Throne of Him Who had made Heaven and earth, and did His +Father's Will on earth as it was done in Heaven.... Forty years ago the +life of this church was rising on this very night, with a hum as of an +approaching multitude, from hour to hour, brightening and quickening as +it came, up to the glory of the Midnight Mass, the crowded church, +alight from end to end, the smell of bog and bay in the air, soon to be +met and crowned by the savour of incense-smoke; and the world of spirit, +too, quickened about them; and the angels (she thought) came down from +Heaven, as men up from the City round about, to greet Him who is King of +both angels and men. + +And now, in this new England, the church, empty of the Divine Presence, +was emptying, too, of its human visitors. She could hear great doors +somewhere crash together, and the reverberation roll beneath the stone +vaulting. It would empty soon, desolate and dark; and so it would be +all night.... Why did not the very stones cry out? + +Mistress Alice touched her on the arm. + +"We must be going," she said. "They are closing the church." + + +IV + +She had a long talk with Robin on Christmas night. + +The day had passed, making strange impressions on her, which she could +not understand. Partly it was the contrast between the homely +associations of the Feast, begun, as it was for her, with the mass +before dawn--the room at the top of the widow's house was crowded all +the while she was there--between these associations and the +unfamiliarity of the place. She had felt curiously apart from all that +she saw that day in the streets--the patrolling groups, the singers, the +monstrous-headed mummers (of whom companies went about all day), two or +three glimpses of important City festivities, the garlands that +decorated many of the houses. It seemed to her as a shadow-show without +sense or meaning, since the heart of Christmas was gone. Partly, too, no +doubt, it was the memory of a former Christmas, three years ago, when +she had begun to understand that Robin loved her. And he was with her +again; yet all that he had stood for, to her, was gone, and another +significance had taken its place. He was nearer to her heart, in one +manner, though utterly removed, in another. It was as when a friend was +dead: his familiar presence is gone; but now that one physical barrier +is vanished, his presence is there, closer than ever, though in another +fashion.... + + * * * * * + +Robin had come in to sup. Captain Fortescue would fetch him about nine +o'clock, and the two were to ride for the coast before dawn. + +The four sat quiet after supper, speaking in subdued voices, of hopes +for the future, when England should be besieged, indeed, by the +spiritual forces that were gathering overseas; but they slipped +gradually into talk of the past and of Derbyshire, and of rides they +remembered. Then, after a while, Anthony was called away; Mistress Alice +moved back to the table to see her needlework the better, and Robin and +Marjorie sat together by the fire. + + * * * * * + +He told her again of the journey from Rheims, of the inns where they +lodged, of the extraordinary care that was taken, even in that Catholic +land, that no rumour of the nature of the party should slip out, lest +some gossip precede them or even follow them to the coast of England. +They carried themselves even there, he said, as ordinary gentlemen +travelling together; two of them were supposed to be lawyers; he himself +passed as Mr. Ballard's servant. They heard mass when they could in the +larger towns, but even then not all together. + +The landing in England had been easier, he said, than he had thought, +though he had learned afterwards that a helpful young man, who had +offered to show him to an inn in Folkestone, and in whose presence Mr. +Ballard had taken care to give him a good rating for dropping a +bag--with loud oaths--was a well-known informer. However, no harm was +done: Mr. Ballard's admirable bearing, and his oaths in particular, had +seemed to satisfy the young man, and he had troubled them no more. + +Marjorie did not say much. She listened with a fierce attention, so much +interested that she was scarcely aware of her own interest; she looked +up, half betrayed into annoyance, when a placid laugh from Mistress +Alice at the table showed that another was listening too. + +She too, then, had to give her news, and to receive messages for the +Derbyshire folk whom Robin wished to greet; and it was not until +Mistress Alice slipped out of the room that she uttered a word of what +she had been hoping all day she might have an opportunity to say. + +"Mr. Audrey," she said (for she was careful to use this form of +address), "I wish you to pray for me. I do not know what to do." + +He was silent. + +"At present," she said, gathering courage, "my duty is clear. I must be +at home, for my mother's sake, if for nothing else. And, as I told you, +I think I shall be able to do something for priests. But if my mother +died--" + +"Yes?" he said, as she stopped again. + +She glanced up at his serious, deep-eyed face, half in shadow and half +in light, so familiar, and yet so utterly apart from the boy she had +known. + +"Well," she said, "I think of you as a priest already, and I can speak +to you freely.... Well, I am not sure whether I, too, shall not go +overseas, to serve God better." + +"You mean--" + +"Yes. A dozen or more are gone from Derbyshire, whose names I know. Some +are gone to Bruges; two or three to Rome; two or three more to Spain. We +women cannot do what priests can, but, at least, we can serve God in +Religion." + +She looked at him again, expecting an answer. She saw him move his head, +as if to answer. Then he smiled suddenly. + +"Well, however you look at me, I am not a priest.... You had best speak +to one--Father Campion or another." + +"But--" + +"And I will pray for you," he said with an air of finality. + +Then Mistress Alice came back. + + * * * * * + +She never forgot, all her life long, the little scene that took place +when Captain Fortescue came in with Mr. Babington, to fetch Robin away. +Yet the whole of its vividness rose from its interior significance. +Externally here was a quiet parlour; two ladies--for the girl afterwards +seemed to see herself in the picture--stood by the fireplace; Mistress +Alice still held her needlework gathered up in one hand, and her spools +of thread and a pin-cushion lay on the polished table. And the two +gentlemen--for Captain Fortescue would not sit down, and Robin had risen +at his entrance--the two gentlemen stood by it. They were not in their +boots, for they were not to ride till morning; they appeared two +ordinary gentlemen, each hat-in-hand, and Robin had his cloak across his +arm. Anthony Babington stood in the shadow by the door, and, beyond him, +the girl could see the face of Dick, who had come up to say good-bye +again to his old master. + +That was all--four men and two ladies. None raised his voice, none made +a gesture. The home party spoke of the journey, and of their hopes that +all would go well; the travellers, or rather the leader (for Robin spoke +not one word, good or bad), said that he was sure it would be so; there +was not one-tenth of the difficulty in getting out of England as of +getting into it. Then, again, he said that it was late; that he had +still one or two matters to arrange; that they must be out of London as +soon as the gates opened. And the scene ended. + +Robin bowed to the two ladies, precisely and courteously; making no +difference between them, and wheeled and went out, and she saw Dick's +face, too, vanish from the door, and heard the voices of the two on the +stairs. Marjorie returned the salute of Mr. Ballard, longing to entreat +him to take good care of the boy, yet knowing that she must not and +could not. + +Then he, too, was gone, with Anthony to see him downstairs; and +Marjorie, without a word, went straight through to her room, fearing to +trust her own voice, for she felt that her heart was gone with them. +Yet, not for one moment did even her sensitive soul distrust any more +the nature of the love that she bore to the lad. + +But Mistress Alice sat down again to her sewing. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +Marjorie was sitting in her mother's room, while her mother slept. She +had been reading aloud from a bundle of letters--news from Rheims; but +little by little she had seen sleep come down on her mother's face, and +had let her voice trail away into silence. And so she sat quiet. + + * * * * * + +It seemed incredible that nearly a year had passed since her visit to +London, and that Christmas was upon them again. Yet in this remote +country place there was little to make time run slowly: the country-side +wheeled gently through the courses of the year; the trees put on their +green robes, changed them for russet and dropped them again; the dogs +and the horses grew a little older, a beast died now and again, and +others were born. The faces that she knew, servants and farmers, aged +imperceptibly. Here and there a family moved away, and another into its +place; an old man died and his son succeeded him, but the mother and +sisters lived on in the house in patriarchal fashion. Priests came and +went again unobserved; Marjorie went to the sacraments when she could, +and said her prayers always. But letters came more frequently than ever +to the little remote manor, carried now by some farm-servant, now left +by strangers, now presented as credentials; and Booth's Edge became +known in that underworld of the north, which finds no record in history, +as a safe place for folks in trouble for their faith. For one whole +month in the summer there had been a visitor at the house--a cousin of +old Mr. Manners, it was understood; and, except for the Catholics in +the place, not a soul knew him for a priest, against whom the hue and +cry still raged in York. + +Derbyshire, indeed, had done well for the old Religion. Man after man +went in these years southwards and was heard of no more, till there came +back one day a gentleman riding alone, or with his servant; and it +became known that one more Derbyshire man was come again to his own +place to minister to God's people. Mr. Ralph Sherwine was one of them; +Mr. Christopher Buxton another; and Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Garlick, it was +rumoured, would not be long now.... And there had been a wonderful +cessation of trouble, too. Not a priest had suffered since the two, the +news of whose death she had heard two years ago. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie, then, sitting quiet over the fire that burned now all the +winter in her mother's room, was thinking over these things. + +She had had more news from London from time to time, sent on to her +chiefly by Mr. Babington, though none had come to her since the summer, +and she had singled out in particular all that bore upon Father Campion. +There was no doubt that the hunt was hotter every month; yet he seemed +to bear a charmed life. Once he had escaped, she had heard, through the +quick wit of a servant-maid, who had pushed him suddenly into a +horse-pond, as the officers actually came in sight, so that he came out +all mud and water-weed; and had been jeered at for a clumsy lover by the +very men who were on his trail.... Marjorie smiled to herself as she +nursed her knee over the fire, and remembered his gaiety and sharpness. + +Robin, too, was never very far from her thoughts. In some manner she put +the two together in her mind. She wondered whether they would ever +travel together. It was her hope that her old friend might become +another Campion himself some day. + +A log rolled from its place in the fire, scattering sparks. She stooped +to put it back, glancing first at the bed to see if her mother were +disturbed; and, as she sat back again, she heard the blowing of a horse +and a man's voice, fierce and low, from beyond the windows, bidding the +beast hold himself up. + +She was accustomed now to such arrivals. They came and went like this, +often without warning; it was her business to look at any credentials +they bore with them, and then, if all were well, to do what she +could-whether to set them on their way, or to give them shelter. A room +was set aside now, in the further wing, and called openly and freely the +"priest's room,"--so great was their security. + +She got up from her seat and went out quickly on tiptoe as she heard a +door open and close beneath her in the house, running over in her mind +any preparations that she would have to make if the rider were one that +needed shelter. + +As she looked down the staircase, she saw a maid there, who had run out +from the buttery, talking to a man whom she thought she knew. Then he +lifted his face, and she saw that she was right: and that it was Mr. +Babington. + +She came down, reassured and smiling; but her breath caught in her +throat as she saw his face.... She told the maid to be off and get +supper ready, but he jerked his head in refusal. She saw that he could +hardly speak. Then she led him into the hall, taking down the lantern +that hung in the passage, and placing it on the table. But her hand +shook in spite of herself. + +"Tell me," she whispered. + +He sat down heavily on a bench. + +"It is all over," he said. "The bloody murderers!... They were gibbeted +three days ago." + +The girl drew a long, steady breath. All her heart cried "Robin." + +"Who are they, Mr. Babington?" + +"Why, Campion and Sherwine and Brian. They were taken a month or two +ago.... I had heard not a word of it, and ... and it ended three days +ago." + +"I ... I do not understand." + +The man struck his hand heavily on the long table against which he +leaned. He appeared one flame of fury; courtesy and gentleness were all +gone from him. + +"They were hanged for treason, I tell you.... Treason! ... Campion!... +By God! we will give them treason if they will have it so!" + +All seemed gone from Marjorie except the white, splashed face that +stared at her, lighted up by the lantern beside him, glaring from the +background of darkness. It was not Robin ... not Robin ... yet-- + +The shocking agony of her face broke through the man's heart-broken +fury, and he stood up quickly. + +"Mistress Marjorie," he said, "forgive me.... I am like a madman. I am +on my way from Derby, where the news came to me this afternoon. I turned +aside to tell you. They say the truce, as they call it, is at an end. I +came to warn you. You must be careful. I am riding for London. My men +are in the valley. Mistress Marjorie--" + +She waved him aside. The blood was beginning again to beat swiftly and +deafeningly in her ears, and the word came back. + +"I ... I was shocked," she said; "... you must pardon me.... Is it +certain?" + +He tore out a bundle of papers from behind his cloak, detached one with +shaking hands and thrust it before her. + +She sat down and spread it on the table. But his voice broke in and +interrupted her all the while. + +"They were all three taken together, in the summer.... I ... have been +in France; my letters never reached me.... They were racked +continually.... They died all together; praying for the Queen ... at +Tyburn.... Campion died the first...." + +She pushed the paper from her; the close handwriting was no more to her +than black marks on the paper. She passed her hands over her forehead +and eyes. + +"Mistress Marjorie, you look like death. See, I will leave the paper +with you. It is from one of my friends who was there...." + +The door was pushed open, and the servant came in, bearing a tray. + +"Set it down," said Marjorie, as coolly as if death and horror were as +far from her as an hour ago. + +She nodded sharply to the maid, who went out again; then she rose and +spread the food within the man's reach. He began to eat and drink, +talking all the time. + + * * * * * + +As she sat and watched him and listened, remembering afterwards, as if +mechanically, all that he said, she was contemplating something else. +She seemed to see Campion, not as he had been three days ago, not as he +was now ... but as she had seen him in London--alert, brisk, quick. Even +the tones of his voice were with her, and the swift merry look in his +eyes.... Somewhere on the outskirts of her thought there hung other +presences: the darkness, the blood, the smoking cauldron.... Oh! she +would have to face these presently; she would go through this night, she +knew, looking at all their terror. But just now let her remember him as +he had been; let her keep off all other thoughts so long as she +could.... + + +II + +When she had heard the horse's footsteps scramble down the little steep +ascent in the dark, and then pass into silence on the turf beyond, she +closed the outer door, barred it once more, and then went back straight +into the hall, where the lantern still burned among the plates. She +dared not face her mother yet; she must learn how far she still held +control of herself; for her mother must not hear the news: the +apothecary from Derby who had ridden up to see her this week had been +very emphatic. So the girl must be as usual. There must be no sign of +discomposure. To-night, at least, she would keep her face in the shadow. +But her voice? Could she control that too? + +After she had sat motionless in the cold hall a minute or two, she +tested herself. + +"He is dead," she said softly. "He is quite dead, and so are the others. +They--" + +But she could not go on. Great shuddering seized on her; she shook from +head to foot.... + +Later that night Mrs. Manners awoke. She tried to move her head, but the +pain was shocking, and still half asleep, she moaned aloud. + +Then the curtains moved softly, and she could see that a face was +looking at her. + +"Margy! Is that you?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"Move my head; move my head. I cannot bear--" + +She felt herself lifted gently and strongly. The struggle and the pain +exhausted her for a minute, and she lay breathing deeply. Then the ease +of the shifted position soothed her. + +"I cannot see your face," she said. "Where is the light?" + +The face disappeared, and immediately, through the curtains, the mother +saw the light. But still she could not see the girl's face. She said so +peevishly. + +"It will weary your eyes. Lie still, mother, and go to sleep again." + +"What time is it?" + +"I do not know." + +"Are you not in bed?" + +"Not yet, mother." + +The sick woman moaned again once or twice, but thought no more of it. +And presently the deep sleep of sickness came down on her again. + + * * * * * + +They rose early in those days in England; and soon after six o'clock, as +Janet had seen nothing of her young mistress, she opened the door of the +sleeping-room and peeped in.... A minute later Marjorie's mind rose up +out of black gulfs of sleep, in which, since her falling asleep an hour +or two ago, she had wandered, bearing an intolerable burden, which she +could neither see nor let fall, to find the rosy-streaked face of Janet, +all pinched with cold, peering into her own. She sat up, wide awake, yet +with all her world still swaying about her, and stared into her maid's +eyes. + +"What is it? What time is it?" + +"It is after six, mistress. And the mistress seems uneasy. I--" + +Marjorie sprang up and went to the bed. + + +III + +On the evening of that day her mother died. + + * * * * * + +There was no priest within reach. A couple of men had ridden out early, +dispatched by Marjorie within half an hour of her awaking--to Dethick, +to Hathersage, and to every spot within twenty miles where a priest +might be found, with orders not to return without one. But the long day +had dragged out: and when dusk was falling, still neither had come back. +The country was rain-soaked and all but impassable, she learned later, +across valley after valley, where the streams had risen. And nowhere +could news be gained that any priest was near; for, as a further +difficulty, open inquiry was not always possible, in view of the news +that had come to Booth's Edge last night. The girl had understood that +the embers were rising again to flame in the south; and who could tell +but that a careless word might kindle the fire here, too. She had been +urged by Anthony to hold herself more careful than ever, and she had +been compelled to warn her messengers. + + * * * * * + +It was soon after dusk had fallen--the heavy dusk of a December +day--that her mother had come back again to consciousness. She opened +her eyes wearily, coming back, as Marjorie had herself that morning, +from that strange realm of heavy and deathly sleep, to the pale phantom +world called "life"; and agonising pain about the heart stabbed her wide +awake. + +"O Jesu!" she screamed. + +Then she heard her daughter's voice, very steady and plain, in her ear. + +"There is no priest, mother dear. Listen to me." + +"I cannot! I cannot!... Jesu!" + +Her eyes closed again for torment, and the sweat ran down her face. The +slow poison that had weighted and soaked her limbs so gradually these +many months past, was closing in at last upon her heart, and her pain +was gathering to its last assault. The silent, humorous woman was +changed into one twitching, uncontrolled incarnation of torture. + +Then again the voice began: + +"Jesu, Who didst die for love of me--upon the Cross--let me die--for +love of Thee." + +"Christ!" moaned the woman more softly. + +"Say it in your heart, after me. There is no priest. So God will accept +your sorrow instead. Now then--" + +Then the old words began--the old acts of sorrow and love and faith and +hope, that mother and daughter had said together, night after night, for +so many years. Over and over again they came, whispered clear and sharp +by the voice in her ear; and she strove to follow them. Now and again +the pain closed its sharp hands upon her heart so cruelly that all that +on which she strove to fix her mind, fled from her like a mist, and she +moaned or screamed, or was silent with her teeth clenched upon her lip. + +"My God--I am very sorry--that I have offended Thee." + +"Why is there no priest?... Where is the priest?" + +"Mother, dear, listen. I have sent for a priest ... but none has come. +You remember now?... You remember that priests are forbidden now--" + +"Where is the priest?" + +"Mother, dear. Three priests were put to death only three days ago in +London--for ... for being priests. Ask them to pray for you.... Say, +Edmund Campion pray for me. Perhaps ... perhaps--" + +The girl's voice died away. + +For, for a full minute, an extraordinary sensation rested on her. It +began with a sudden shiver of the flesh, as sharp and tingling as water, +dying away in long thrills amid her hair--that strange advertisement +that tells the flesh that more than flesh is there, and that the world +of spirit is not only present, but alive and energetic. Then, as it +passed, the whole world, too, passed into silence. The curtains that +shook just now hung rigid as sheets of steel; the woman in the bed lay +suddenly still, then smiled with closed eyes. The pair of maids, +kneeling out of sight beyond the bed, ceased to sob; and, while the +seconds went by, as real as any knowledge can be in which the senses +have no part, the certain knowledge deepened upon the girl who knelt, +arrested in spite of herself, that a priestly presence was here +indeed.... + +Very slowly, as if lifting great weights, she raised her eyes, knowing +that there, across the tumbled bed, where the darkness of the room +showed between the parted curtains, the Presence was poised. Yet there +was nothing there to see--no tortured, smoke-stained, throttling +face--ah! that could not be--but neither was there the merry, kindly +face, with large cheerful eyes and tender mouth smiling; no hand held +the curtains that the face might peer in. Neither then nor at any time +in all her life did Marjorie believe that she saw him; yet neither then +nor in all her life did she doubt he had been there while her mother +died. + +Again her mother smiled--and this time she opened her eyes to the full, +and there was no dismay in them, nor fear, nor disappointment; and she +looked a little to her left, where the parted curtains showed the +darkness of the room.... + +Then Marjorie closed her eyes, and laid her head on the bed where her +mother's body sank back and down into the pillows. Then the girl +slipped heavily to the floor, and the maids sprang up screaming. + + +IV + +It was not till two hours later that Mr. Simpson arrived. He had been +found at last at Hathersage, only a few miles away, as one of the men, +on his return ride, had made one last inquiry before coming home; and +there he ran into the priest himself in the middle of the street. The +priest had taken the man's horse and pushed on as well as he could +through the dark, in the hopes he might yet be in time. + +Marjorie came to him in the parlour downstairs. She nodded her head +slowly and gravely. + +"It is over," she said; and sat down. + +"And there was no priest?" + +She said nothing. + +She was in her house-dress, with the hood drawn over her head as it was +a cold night. He was amazed at her look of self-control; he had thought +to find her either collapsed or strainedly tragic: he had wondered as he +came how he would speak to her, how he would soothe her, and he saw +there was no need. + +She told him presently of the sudden turn for the worse early that +morning as she herself fell asleep by the bedside; and a little of what +had passed during the day. Then she stopped short as she approached the +end. + +"Have you heard the news from London?" she said. "I mean, of our priests +there?" + +His young face grew troubled, and he knit his forehead. + +"They are in ward," he said; "I heard a week ago.... They will banish +them from England--they dare not do more!" + +"It is all finished," she said quietly. + +"What!" + +"They were hanged at Tyburn three days ago--the three of them together." + +He drew a hissing breath, and felt the skin of his face tingle. + +"You have heard that?" + +"Mr. Babington came to tell me last night. He left a paper with me: I +have not read it yet." + +He watched her as she drew it out and put it before him. The terror was +on him, as once or twice before in his journeyings, or as when the news +of Mr. Nelson's death had reached him--a terror which shamed him to the +heart, and which he loathed yet could not overcome. He still stared into +her pale face. Then he took the paper and began to read it. + + * * * * * + +Presently he laid it down again. The sick terror was beginning to pass; +or, rather, he was able to grip it; and he said a conventional word or +two; he could do no more. There was no exultation in his heart; nothing +but misery. And then, in despair, he left the subject. + +"And you, mistress," he said, "what will you do now? Have you no aunt or +friend--" + +"Mistress Alice Babington once said she would come and live with me--if +... when I needed it. I shall write to her. I do not know what else to +do." + +"And you will live here?" + +"Why; more than ever!" she said, smiling suddenly. "I can work in +earnest now." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +It was on a bright evening in the summer that Marjorie, with her maid +Janet, came riding down to Padley, and about the same time a young man +came walking up the track that led from Derby. In fact, the young man +saw the two against the skyline and wondered who they were. Further, +there was a group of four or five walking on the terrace below the +house, that saw both the approaching parties, and commented upon their +coming. + +To be precise, there were four persons in the group on the terrace, and +a man-servant who hung near. The four were Mr. John FitzHerbert, his son +Thomas, his son's wife, and, in the midst, leaning on Mrs. FitzHerbert's +arm, was old Sir Thomas himself, and it was for his sake that the +servant was within call, for he was still very sickly after his long +imprisonment, in spite of his occasional releases. + +Mr. John saw the visitors first. + +"Why, here is the company all arrived together," he said. "Now, if +anything hung on that--" his son broke in, uneasily. + +"You are sure of young Owen?" he said. "Our lives will all hang on him +after this." + +His father clapped him gently on the shoulder. + +"Now, now!" he said. "I know him well enough, from my lord. He hath made +a dozen such places in this county alone." + +Mr. Thomas glanced swiftly at his uncle. + +"And you have spoken with him, too, uncle?" + +The old man turned his melancholy eyes on him. + +"Yes; I have spoken with him," he said. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later Marjorie was dismounted, and was with him. She +greeted old Sir Thomas with particular respect; she had talked with him +a year ago when he was first released that he might raise his fines; and +she knew well enough that his liberty was coming to an end. In fact, he +was technically a prisoner even now; and had only been allowed to come +for a week or two from Sir Walter Aston's house before going back again +to the Fleet. + +"You are come in good time," said Sir John, smiling. + +"That is young Owen himself coming up the path." + +There was nothing particularly noticeable about the young man who a +minute later was standing before them with his cap in his hand. He was +plainly of the working class; and he had over his shoulder a bag of +tools. He was dusty up to the knees with his long tramp. Mr. John gave +him a word of welcome; and then the whole group went slowly together +back to the house, with the two men following. Sir Thomas stumbled a +little going up the two or three steps into the hall. Then they all sat +down together; the servant put a big flagon and a horn tumbler beside +the traveller, and went out, closing the doors. + +"Now, my man," said Mr. John. "Do you eat and drink while I do the +talking. I understand you are a man of your hands, and that you have +business elsewhere." + +"I must be in Lancashire by the end of the week, sir." + +"Very well, then. We have business enough for you, God knows! This is +Mistress Manners, whom you may have heard of. And after you have looked +at the places we have here--you understand me?--Mistress Manners wants +you at her house at Booth's Edge.... You have any papers?" + +Owen leaned back and drew out a paper from his bag of tools. + +"This is from Mr. Fenton, sir." + +Mr. John glanced at the address; then he turned it over and broke the +seal. He stared for a moment at the open sheet. + +"Why, it is blank!" he said. + +Owen smiled. He was a grave-looking lad of eighteen or nineteen years +old; and his face lighted up very pleasantly. + +"I have had that trick played on me before, sir, in my travels. I +understand that Catholic gentlemen do so sometimes to try the fidelity +of the messenger." + +The other laughed out loud, throwing back his head. + +"Why, that is a poor compliment!" he said. "You shall have a better one +from us, I have no doubt." + +Mr. Thomas leaned over the table and took the paper. He examined it very +carefully; then he handed it back. His father laughed again as he took +it. + +"You are very cautious, my son," he said. "But it is wise enough.... +Well, then," he went on to the carpenter, "you are willing to do this +work for us? And as for payment--" + +"I ask only my food and lodging," said the lad quietly; "and enough to +carry me on to the next place." + +"Why--" began the other in a protest. + +"No, sir; no more than that...." He paused an instant. "I hope to be +admitted to the Society of Jesus this year or next." + +There was a pause of astonishment. And then old Sir Thomas' deep voice +broke in. + +"You do very well, sir. I heartily congratulate you. And I would I were +twenty years younger myself...." + + +II + +After supper that night the entire party went upstairs to the chapel. + +Young Hugh Owen even already was beginning to be known among Catholics, +for his extraordinary skill in constructing hiding-holes. Up to the +present not much more had been attempted than little secret recesses +where the vessels of the altar and the vestments might be concealed. But +the young carpenter had been ingenious enough in two or three houses to +which he had been called, to enlarge these so considerably that even two +or three men might be sheltered in them; and, now that it seemed as if +the persecution of recusants was to break out again, the idea began to +spread. Mr. John FitzHerbert while in London had heard of his skill, and +had taken means to get at the young man, for his own house at Padley. + + * * * * * + +Owen was already at work when the party came upstairs. He had supped +alone, and, with a servant to guide him, had made the round of the +house, taking measurements in every possible place. He was seated on the +floor as they came in; three or four panels lay on the ground beside +him, and a heap of plaster and stones. + +He looked up as they came in. + +"This will take me all night, sir," he said. "And the fire must be put +out below." + +He explained his plan. The old hiding-place was but a poor affair; it +consisted of a space large enough for only one man, and was contrived by +a section of the wall having been removed, all but the outer row of +stones made thin for the purpose; the entrance to it was through a tall +sliding panel on the inside of the chapel. Its extreme weakness as a +hiding-hole lay in the fact that anyone striking on the panel could not +fail to hear how hollow it rang. This he proposed to do away with, +unless, indeed, he left a small space for the altar vessels; and to +construct instead a little chamber in the chimney of the hall that was +built against this wall; he would contrive it so that an entrance was +still from the chapel, as well as one that he would make over the hearth +below; and that the smoke should be conducted round the little enclosed +space, passing afterwards up the usual vent. The chamber would be large +enough, he thought, for at least two men. He explained, too, his method +of deadening the hollowness of the sound if the panel were knocked upon, +by placing pads of felt on struts of wood that would be set against the +panel-door. + +"Why, that is very shrewd!" cried Mr. John. He looked round the faces +for approval. + +For an hour or so, the party sat and watched him at his work; and +Marjorie listened to their talk. It was of that which filled the hearts +of all Catholics at this time; of the gathering storm in England, of the +priests that had been executed this very year--Mr. Paine at Chelmsford, +in March; Mr. Forde, Mr. Shert and Mr. Johnson, at Tyburn in May, the +first of the three having been taken with Father Campion at +Lyford--deaths that were followed two days later by the execution of +four more--one of whom, Mr. Filbie, had also been arrested at Lyford. +And there were besides a great number more in prison--Mr. Cottam, it was +known, had been taken at York, scarcely a week ago, and, it was said, +would certainly suffer before long. + +They talked in low voices; for the shadow was on all their hearts. It +had been possible almost to this very year to hope that the misery would +be a passing one; but the time for hope was gone. It remained only to +bear what came, to multiply priests, and, if necessary, martyrs, and +meantime to take such pains for protection as they could. + +"He will be a clever pursuivant who finds this one out," said Mr. John. + +The carpenter looked up from his work. + +"But a clever one will find it," he said. + +Mr. Thomas was heard to sigh. + + +III + +It was on the afternoon of the following day that Marjorie rode up to +her house with Janet beside her, and Hugh Owen walking by her horse. + +He had finished his work at Padley an hour or two after dawn--for he +worked at night when he could, and had then gone to rest. But he had +been waiting for her when her horses were brought, and asked if he might +walk with her; he had asked it simply and easily, saying that it might +save his losing his way, and time was precious to him. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie felt very much interested by this lad, for he was no more than +that. In appearance he was like any of his kind, with a countryman's +face, in a working-dress: she might have seen him by chance a hundred +times and not known him again. But his manner was remarkable, so wholly +simple and well-bred: he was courteous always, as suited his degree; but +he had something of the same assurance that she had noticed so plainly +in Father Campion. (He talked with a plain, Northern dialect.) + +Presently she opened on that very point; for she could talk freely +before Janet. + +"Did you ever know Father Campion?" she asked. + +"I have never spoken with him, mistress. I have heard him preach. It was +that which put it in my heart to join the company." + +"You heard him preach?" + +"Yes, mistress; three or four times in Essex and Hertfordshire. I heard +him preach upon the young man who came to our Saviour." + +"Tell me," she said, looking down at what she could see of his face. + +"It was liker an angel than a man," he said quietly. "I could not take +my eyes off him from his first word to the last. And all were the same +that were there." + +"Was he eloquent?" + +"Aye; you might call it that. But I thought it to be the Spirit of God." + +"And it was then you made up your mind to join the Society?" + +"There was no rest for me till I did. 'And Christ also went away +sorrowful,' were his last words. And I could not bear to think that." + +Marjorie was silent through pure sympathy. This young man spoke a +language she understood better than that which some of her friends +used--Mr. Babington, for instance. It was the Person of Jesus Christ +that was all her religion to her; it was for this that she was devout, +that she went to mass and the sacraments when she could; it was this +that made Mary dear to her. Was He not her son? And, above all, it was +for this that she had sacrificed Robin: she could not bear that he +should not serve Him as a priest, if he might. But the other talk that +she had heard sometimes--of the place of religion in politics, and the +justification of this or that course of public action--well, she knew +that these things must be so; yet it was not the manner of her own most +intimate thought, and the language of it was not hers. + +The two went together so a few paces, without speaking. Then she had a +sudden impulse. + +"And do you ever think of what may come upon you?" she asked. "Do you +ever think of the end? + +"Aye," he said. + +"And what do you think the end will be?" + +She saw him raise his eyes to her an instant. + +"I think," he said, "that I shall die for my faith some day." + +That same strange shiver that passed over her at her mother's bedside, +passed over her again, as if material things grew thin about her. There +was a tone in his voice that made it absolutely clear to her that he was +not speaking of a fancy, but of some certain knowledge that he had. Yet +she dared not ask him, and she was a middle-aged woman before the news +came to her of his death upon the rack. + + +IV + +It was a sleepy-eyed young man that came into the kitchen early next +morning, where the ladies and the maids were hard at work all together +upon the business of baking. The baking was a considerable task each +week, for there were not less than twenty mouths, all told, to feed in +the hall day by day, including a widow or two that called each day for +rations; and a great part, therefore, of a mistress's time in such +houses was taken up with such things. + +Marjorie turned to him, with her arms floured to the elbow. + +"Well?" she said, smiling. + +"I have done, mistress. Will it please you to see it before I go and +sleep?" + +They had examined the house carefully last night, measuring and sounding +in the deep and thin walls alike, for there was at present no +convenience at all for a hunted man. Owen had obtained her consent to +two or three alternative proposals, and she had then left him to +himself. From her bed, that she had had prepared, with Alice +Babington's, in a loft--turning out for the night the farm-men who had +usually slept there, she had heard more than once the sound of distant +hammering from the main front of the house where her own room lay, that +had been once her mother's as well. + +The possibilities in this little manor were small. To construct a +passage, giving an exterior escape, as had been made in some houses, +would have meant here a labour of weeks, and she had told the young man +she would be content with a simple hiding-hole. Yet, although she did +not expect great things, and knew, moreover, the kind of place that he +would make, she was as excited as a child, in a grave sort of way, at +what she would see. + +He took her first into the parlour, where years ago Robin had talked +with her in the wintry sunshine. The open chimney was on the right as +they entered, and though she knew that somewhere on that same side would +be one of the two entrances that had been arranged, all the difference +she could see was that a piece of the wall-hanging that had been between +the window and the fire was gone, and that there hung in its place an +old picture painted on a panel. She looked at this without speaking: the +wall was wainscoted in oak, as it had always been, six feet up from the +floor. Then an idea came to her: she tilted the picture on one side. But +there was no more to be seen than a cracked panel, which, it seemed to +her, had once been nearer the door. She rapped upon this, but it gave +back the dull sound as of wood against stone. + +She turned to the young man, smiling. He smiled back. + +"Come into the bedroom, mistress." + +He led her in there, through the passage outside into which the two +doors opened at the head of the outside stairs; but here, too, all that +she could see was that a tall press that had once stood between the +windows now stood against the wall immediately opposite to the painted +panel on the other side of the wall. She opened the doors of the press, +but it was as it had always been: there even hung there the three or +four dresses that she had taken from it last night and laid on the bed. + +She laughed outright, and, turning, saw Mistress Alice Babington beaming +tranquilly from the door of the room. + +"Come in, Alice," she said, "and see this miracle." + +Then he began to explain it. + + * * * * * + +On this side was the entrance proper, and, as he said so, he stepped up +into the press and closed the doors. They could hear him fumbling +within, then the sound of wood sliding, and finally a muffled voice +calling to them. Marjorie flung the doors open, and, save for the +dresses, it was empty. She stared in for a moment, still hearing the +movements of someone beyond, and at last the sound of a snap; and as she +withdrew her head to exclaim to Alice, the young man walked into the +room through the open door behind her. + +Then he explained it in full. + +The back of the press had been removed, and then replaced, in such a +manner that it would slide out about eighteen inches towards the window, +but only when the doors of the press were closed; when they were opened, +they drew out simultaneously a slip of wood on either side that pulled +the sliding door tight and immovable. Behind the back of the press, thus +removed, a corresponding part of the wainscot slid in the same way, +giving a narrow doorway into the cell which he had excavated between the +double beams of the thick wall. Next, when the person that had taken +refuge was inside, with the two sliding doors closed behind him, it was +possible for him, by an extremely simple device, to turn a wooden button +and thus release a little wooden machinery which controlled a further +opening into the parlour, and which, at the same time, was braced +against the hollow panelling and one of the higher beams in such a +manner as to give it, when knocked upon, the dullness of sound the girl +had noticed just now. But this door could only be opened from within. +Neither a fugitive nor a pursuer could make any entrance from the +parlour side, unless the wainscoting itself were torn off. Lastly, the +crack in the woodwork, corresponding with two minute holes bored in the +painted panel, afforded, when the picture was hung exactly straight, a +view of the parlour that commanded nearly all the room. + +"I do not pretend that it is a fortress," said the young man, smiling +gravely. "But it may serve to keep out a country constable. And, indeed, +it is the best I can contrive in this house." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +Marjorie found it curious, even to herself, how the press that faced the +foot of the two beds where she and Alice slept side by side, became +associated in her mind with the thought of Robin; and she began to +perceive that it was largely with the thought of him in her intention +that the idea had first presented itself of having the cell constructed +at all. It was not that in her deliberate mind she conceived that he +would be hunted, that he would fly here, that she would save him; but +rather in that strange realm of consciousness which is called sometimes +the Imagination, and sometimes by other names--that inner shadow-show on +which move figures cast by the two worlds--she perceived him in this +place.... + +It was in the following winter that she was reminded of him by other +means than those of his letters. + + * * * * * + +The summer and autumn had passed tranquilly enough, so far as this +outlying corner of England was concerned. News filtered through of the +stirring world outside, and especially was there conveyed to her, +through Alice for the most part, news that concerned the fortunes of +Catholics. Politics, except in this connection, meant little enough to +such as her. She heard, indeed, from time to time vague rumours of +fighting, and of foreign Powers; and thought now and again of Spain, as +of a country that might yet be, in God's hand, an instrument for the +restoring of God's cause in England; she had heard, too, in this year, +of one more rumour of the Queen's marriage with the Duke d'Alencon, and +then of its final rupture. But these matters were aloof from her; rather +she pondered such things as the execution of two more priests at York in +August, Mr. Lacy and Mr. Kirkman, and of a third, Mr. Thompson, in +November at the same place. It was on such affairs as these that she +pondered as she went about her household business, or sat in the chamber +upstairs with Mistress Alice; and it was of these things that she talked +with the few priests that came and went from time to time in their +circuits about Derbyshire. It was a life of quietness and monotony +inconceivable by those who live in towns. Its sole incident lay in that +life which is called Interior.... + +It was soon after the New Year that she met the squire of Matstead face +to face. + + * * * * * + +She and Alice, with Janet and a man riding behind, were on their way +back from Derby, where they had gone for their monthly shopping. They +had slept at Dethick, and had had news there of Mr. Anthony, who was +again in the south on one of his mysterious missions, and started again +soon after dawn next day to reach home, if they could, for dinner. + +She knew Alice now for what she was--a woman of astounding dullness, of +sterling character, and of a complete inability to understand any shades +or tones of character or thought that were not her own, and yet a friend +in a thousand, of an immovable stability and loyalty, one of no words at +all, who dwelt in the midst of a steady kind of light which knew no dawn +nor sunset. The girl entertained herself sometimes with conceiving of +her friend confronted with the rack, let us say, or the gallows; and +perceived that she knew with exactness what her behaviour would be: She +would do all that was required of her with out speeches or protest; she +would place herself in the required positions, with a faint smile, +unwavering; she would suffer or die with the same tranquil steadiness as +that in which she lived; and, best of all, she would not be aware, even +for an instant, that anything in her behaviour was in the least +admirable or exceptional. She resembled, to Marjorie's mind, that for +which a strong and well-built arm-chair stands in relation to the body: +it is the same always, supporting and sustaining always, and cannot even +be imagined as anything else. + + * * * * * + +It was a brilliant frosty day, as they rode over the rutted track +between hedges that served for a road, that ran, for the most part, a +field or two away from the black waters of the Derwent. The birches +stood about them like frozen feathers; the vast chestnuts towered +overhead, motionless in the motionless air. As they came towards +Matstead, and, at last, rode up the street, naturally enough Marjorie +again began to think of Robin. As they came near where the track turned +the corner beneath the churchyard wall, where once Robin had watched, +himself unseen, the three riders go by, she had to attend to her horse, +who slipped once or twice on the paved causeway. Then as she lifted her +head again, she saw, not three yards from her, and on a level with her +own face, the face of the squire looking at her from over the wall. + +She had not seen him, except once in Derby, a year or two before, and +that at a distance, since Robin had left England; and at the sight she +started so violently, in some manner jerking the reins that she held, +that her horse, tired with the long ride of the day before, slipped once +again, and came down all asprawl on the stones, fortunately throwing her +clear of his struggling feet. She was up in a moment, but again sank +down, aware that her foot was in some way bruised or twisted. + +There was a clatter of hoofs behind her as the servants rode up; a +child or two ran up the street, and when, at last, on Janet's arm, she +rose again to her feet, it was to see the squire staring at her, with +his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Bring the ladies up to the house," he said abruptly to the man; and +then, taking the rein of the girl's horse that had struggled up again, +he led the way, without another word, without even turning his head, +round to the way that ran up to his gates. + + +II + +It was not with any want of emotion that Marjorie found herself +presently meekly seated upon Alice's horse, and riding up at a +foot's-pace beneath the gatehouse of the Hall. Rather it was the balance +of emotions that made her so meek and so obedient to her friend's +tranquil assumption that she must come in as the squire said. She was +aware of a strong resentment to his brusque order, as well as to the +thought that it was to the house of an apostate that she was going; yet +there was a no less strong emotion within her that he had a sort of +right to command her. These feelings, working upon her, dazed as she was +by the sudden sharpness of her fall, and the pain in her foot, combined +to drive her along in a kind of resignation in the wake of the squire. + +Still confused, yet with a rapid series of these same emotions running +before her mind, she limped up the steps, supported by Alice and her +maid, and sat down on a bench at the end of the hall. The squire, who +had shouted an order or two to a peeping domestic, as he passed up the +court, came to her immediately with a cup in his hand. + +"You must drink this at once, mistress." + +She took it at once, drank and set it down, aware of the keen, +angry-looking face that watched her. + +"You will dine here, too, mistress--" he began, still with a sharp +kindness.... And then, on a sudden, all grew dark about her; there was a +roaring in her ears, and she fainted. + + * * * * * + +She came out of her swoon again, after a while, with that strange and +innocent clearness that usually follows such a thing, to find Alice +beside her, a tapestried wall behind Alice, and the sound of a crackling +fire in her ears. Then she perceived that she was in a small room, lying +on her back along a bench, and that someone was bathing her foot. + +"I ... I will not stay here--" she began. But two hands held her firmly +down, and Alice's reassuring face was looking into her own. + + * * * * * + +When her mind ran clearly again, she sat up with a sudden movement, +drawing her foot away from Janet's ministrations. + +"I do very well," she said, after looking at her foot, and then putting +it to the ground amid a duet of protestations. (She had looked round the +room to satisfy herself that no one else was there, and had seen that it +must be the parlour that she was in. A newly-lighted fire burned on the +hearth, and the two doors were closed.) + +Then Alice explained. + +It was impossible, she said, to ride on at once; the horse even now was +being bathed in the stable, as his mistress in the parlour. The squire +had been most considerate; he had helped to carry her in here just now, +had lighted the fire with his own hands, and had stated that dinner +would be sent in here in an hour for the three women. He had offered to +send one of his own men on to Booth's Edge with the news, if Mistress +Marjorie found herself unable to ride on after dinner. + +"But ... but it is Mr. Audrey!" exclaimed Marjorie. + +"Yes, my dear," said Alice. "I know it is. But that does not mend your +foot," she said, with unusual curtness. And Marjorie saw that she still +looked at her anxiously. + + * * * * * + +The three women dined together, of course, in an hour's time. There was +no escape from the pressure of circumstance. It was unfortunate that +such an accident should have fallen out here, in the one place in all +the world where it should not; but the fact was a fact. Meanwhile, it +was not only resentment that Marjorie felt: it was a strange sort of +terror as well--a terror of sitting in the house of an apostate--of one +who had freely and deliberately renounced that faith for which she +herself lived so completely; and that it was the father of one whom she +knew as she knew Robin--with whose fate, indeed, her own had been so +intimately entwined--this combined to increase that indefinable fear +that rested on her as she stared round the walls, and sat over the food +and drink that this man provided. + +The climax came as they were finishing dinner: for the door from the +hall opened abruptly, and the squire came in. He bowed to the ladies, as +the manner was, straightening his trim, tight figure again defiantly; +asked a civil question or two; directed a servant behind him to bring +the horses to the parlour door in half an hour's time; and then snapped +out the sentence which he was, plainly, impatient to speak. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I wish to have a word with you privately." + +Marjorie, trembling at his presence, turned a wavering face to her +friend; and Alice, before the other could speak, rose up, and went out, +with Janet following. + +"Janet--" cried the girl. + +"If you please," said the old man, with such a decisive air that she +hesitated. Then she nodded at her maid; and a moment later the door +closed. + + +III + +"I have two matters to speak of," said the squire abruptly, sitting down +in the chair that Alice had left; "the first concerns you closely; and +the other less closely." + +She looked at him, summoning all her power to appear at her ease. + +He seemed far older than when she had last spoken with him, perhaps five +years ago; and had grown a little pointed beard; his hair, too, seemed +thinner--such of it as she could see beneath the house-cap that he wore; +his face, especially about his blue, angry-looking eyes, was covered +with fine wrinkles, and his hands were clearly the hands of an old man, +at once delicate and sinewy. He was in a dark suit, still with his cloak +upon him; and in low boots. He sat still as upright as ever, turned a +little in his chair, so as to clasp its back with one strong hand. + +"Yes, sir?" she said. + +"I will begin with the second first. It is of my son Robin: I wish to +know what news you have of him. He hath not written to me this six +months back. And I hear that letters sometimes come to you from him." + +Marjorie hesitated. + +"He is very well, so far as I know," she said. + +"And when is he to be made priest?" he demanded sharply. + +Marjorie drew a breath to give herself time; she knew that she must not +answer this; and did not know how to say so with civility. + +"If he has not told you himself, sir," she said, "I cannot." + +The old man's face twitched; but he kept his manners. "I understand you, +mistress...." But then his wrath overcame him. "But he must understand +he will have no mercy from me, if he comes my way. I am a magistrate, +now, mistress, and--" + +A thought like an inspiration came to the girl; and she interrupted; for +she longed to penetrate this man's armour. + +"Perhaps that was why he did not tell you when he was to be made +priest," she said. + +The other seemed taken aback. + +"Why, but--" + +"He did not wish to think that his father would be untrue to his new +commission," she said, trembling at her boldness and yet exultant too; +and taking no pains to keep the irony out of her voice. + +Again that fierce twitch of the features went over the other's face; and +he stared straight at her with narrowed eyes. Then a change again came +over him; and he laughed, like barking, yet not all unkindly. + +"You are very shrewd, mistress. But I wonder what you will think of me +when I tell you the second matter, since you will tell me no more of the +first." + +He shifted his position in his chair, this time clasping both his hands +together over the back. + +"Well; it is this in a word," he said: "It is that you had best look to +yourself, mistress. My lord Shrewsbury even knows of it." + +"Of what, if you please?" asked the girl, hoping she had not turned +white. + +"Why, of the priests that come and go hereabouts! It is all known; and +her Grace hath sent a message from the Council--" + +"What has this to do with me?" + +He laughed again. + +"Well; let us take your neighbours at Padley. They will be in trouble if +they do not look to their goings. Mr. FitzHerbert--" + +But again she interrupted him. She was determined to know how much he +knew. She had thought that she had been discreet enough, and that no +news had leaked out of her own entertaining of priests; it was chiefly +that discretion might be preserved that she had set her hands to the +work at all. With Padley so near it was thought that less suspicion +would be aroused. Her name had never yet come before the authorities, so +far as she knew. + +"But what has all this to do with me, sir?" she asked sharply. "It is +true that I do not go to church, and that I pay my fines when they are +demanded: Are there new laws, then, against the old faith?" + +She spoke with something of real bitterness. It was genuine enough; her +only art lay in her not concealing it; for she was determined to press +her question home. And, in his shrewd, compelling face, she read her +answer even before his words gave it. + +"Well, mistress; it was not of you that I meant to speak--so much as of +your friends. They are your friends, not mine. And as your friends, I +thought it to be a kindly action to send them an advertisement. If they +are not careful, there will be trouble." + +"At Padley?" + +"At Padley, or elsewhere. It is the persons that fall under the law, not +places!" + +"But, sir, you are a magistrate; and--" + +He sprang up, his face aflame with real wrath. + +"Yes, mistress; I am a magistrate: the commission hath come at last, +after six months' waiting. But I was friend to the FitzHerberts before +ever I was a magistrate, and--" + +Then she understood; and her heart went out to him. She, too, stood up, +catching at the table with a hiss of pain as she threw her weight on the +bruised foot. He made a movement towards her; but she waved him aside. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Audrey, with all my heart. I had thought that +you meant harm, perhaps, to my friends and me. But now I see--" + +"Not a word more! not a word more!" he cried harshly, with a desperate +kind of gesture. "I shall do my duty none the less when the time +comes--" + +"Sir!" she cried out suddenly. "For God's sake do not speak of +duty--there is another duty greater than that. Mr. Audrey--" + +He wheeled away from her, with a movement she could not interpret. It +might be uncontrolled anger or misery, equally. And her heart went out +to him in one great flood. + +"Mr. Audrey. It is not too late. Your son Robin--" + +Then he wheeled again; and his face was distorted with emotion. + +"Yes, my son Robin! my son Robin!... How dare you speak of him to me?... +Yes; that is it--my son Robin--my son Robin!" + +He dropped into the chair again, and his face fell upon his clasped +hands. + + +IV + +She scarcely knew how circumstances had arranged themselves up to the +time when she found herself riding away again with Alice, while a man of +Mr. Audrey's led her horse. They could not talk freely till he left +them at the place where the stony road turned to a soft track, and it +was safe going once more. Then Alice told her own side of it. + +"Yes, my dear; I heard him call out. I was walking in the hall with +Janet to keep ourselves warm. But when I ran in he was sitting down, and +you were standing. What was the matter?" + +"Alice," said the girl earnestly, "I wish you had not come in. He is +very heart-broken, I think. He would have told me more, I think. It is +about his son." + +"His son! Why, he--" + +"Yes; I know that. And he would not see him if he came back. He has had +his magistrate's commission; and he will be true to it. But he is +heart-broken for all that. He has not really lost the Faith, I think." + +"Why, my dear; that is foolish. He is very hot in Derby, I hear, against +the Papists. There was a poor woman who could not pay her fines; and--" + +Marjorie waved it aside. + +"Yes; he would be very hot; but for all that, there is his son Robin you +know--and his memories. And Robin has not written to him for six months. +That would be about the time when he told him he was to be a +magistrate." + +Then Marjorie told her of the whole that had passed, and of his mention +of the FitzHerberts. + +"And what he meant by that," she said, "I do not know; but I will tell +them." + + * * * * * + +She was pondering deeply all the way as she rode home. Mistress Alice +was one of those folks who so long as they are answered in words are +content; and Marjorie so answered her. And all the while she thought +upon Robin, and his passionate old father, and attempted to understand +the emotions that fought in the heart that had so disclosed itself to +her--its aged obstinacy, its loyalty and its confused honourableness. +She knew very well that he would do what he conceived to be his duty +with all the more zeal if it were an unpleasant duty; and she thanked +God that it was not for a good while yet that the lad would come home a +priest. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +The warning which she had had with regard to her friends, and which she +wrote on to them at once, received its fulfilment within a very few +weeks. Mr. John, who was on the eve of departure for London again to +serve his brother there, who was back again in the Fleet by now, wrote +that he knew very well that they were all under suspicion, that he had +sent on to his son the message she had given, but that he hoped they +would yet weather the storm. + +"And as to yourself, Mistress Marjorie," he wrote, "this makes it all +the more necessary that Booth's Edge should not be suspected; for what +will our men do if Padley be closed to them? You have heard of our +friend Mr. Garlick's capture? But that was no fault of yours. The man +was warned. I hear that they will send him into banishment, only, this +time." + + * * * * * + +The news came to her as she sat in the garden over her needlework on a +hot evening in June. There it was as cool as anywhere in the +countryside. She sat at the top of the garden, where her mother and she +had sat with Robin so long before; the breeze that came over the moor +bore with it the scent of the heather; and the bees were busy in the +garden flowers about her. + +It was first the gallop of a horse that she heard; and even at that +sound she laid down her work and stood up. But the house below her +blocked the most of her view; and she sat down again when she heard the +dull rattle of the hoofs die away again. When she next looked up a man +was running towards her from the bottom of the garden, and Janet was +peeping behind him from the gate into the court. As she again stood up, +she saw that it was Dick Sampson. + +He was so out of breath, first with his ride and next with his run up +the steep path, that for a moment or two he could not speak. He was +dusty, too, from foot to knee; his cap was awry and his collar +unbuttoned. + +"It is Mr. Thomas, mistress," he gasped presently. "I was in Derby and +saw him being taken to the gaol.... I could not get speech with him.... +I rode straight up to Padley, and found none there but the servants, and +them knowing nothing of the matter. And so I rode on here, mistress." + +He was plainly all aghast at the blow. Hitherto it had been enough that +Sir Thomas was in ward for his religion; and to this they had become +accustomed. But that the heir should be taken, too, and that without a +hint of what was to happen, was wholly unexpected. She made him sit +down, and presently drew from him the whole tale. + +Mr. Anthony Babington, his master, was away to London again, leaving the +house in Derby in the hands of the servants. He then--Dick Sampson--was +riding out early to take a horse to be shoed, and had come back through +the town-square, when he saw the group ride up to the gaol door near the +Friar Gate. He, too, had ridden up to ask what was forward, and had been +just in time to see Mr. Thomas taken in. He had caught his eye, but had +feigned not to know him. Then the man had attempted to get at what had +happened from one of the fellows at the door, but could get no more from +him than that the prisoner was a known and confessed recusant, and had +been laid by the heels according to orders, it was believed, sent down +by the Council. Then, Dick had ridden slowly away till he had turned +the corner, and then, hot foot for Padley. + +"And I heard the fellow say to one of his company that an informer was +coming down from London on purpose to deal with Mr. Thomas." + +Marjorie felt a sudden pang; for she had never forgotten the one she had +set eyes on in the Tower. + +"His name?" she said breathlessly. "Did you hear his name?" + +"It was Topcliffe, mistress," said Dick indifferently. "The other called +it out." + + * * * * * + +Marjorie sat silent. Not only had the blow fallen more swiftly than she +would have thought possible, but it was coupled with a second of which +she had never dreamed. That it was this man, above all others, that +should have come; this man, who stood to her mind, by a mere chance, for +all that was most dreadful in the sinister forces arrayed against +her--this brought misery down on her indeed. For, besides her own +personal reasons for terror, there was, besides, the knowledge that the +bringing of such a man at all from London on such business meant that +the movement beginning here in her own county was not a mere caprice. + +She sat silent then--seeing once more before her the wide court of the +Tower, the great keep opposite, and in the midst that thin figure moving +to his hateful business.... And she knew now, in this instant, as never +before, that the chief reason for her terror was that she had coupled in +her mind her own friend Robin with the thought of this man, as if by +some inner knowledge that their lives must cross some day--a knowledge +which she could neither justify nor silence. Thank God, at least, that +Robin was still safe in Rheims! + + +II + +She sent him off after a couple of hours' rest, during which once more +he had told his story to Mistress Alice, with a letter to Mr. Thomas's +wife, who, no doubt, would have followed her lord to Derby. She had gone +apart with Alice, while Dick ate and drank, to talk the affair out, and +had told her of Topcliffe's presence, at which news even the placid face +of her friend looked troubled; but they had said nothing more on the +point, and had decided that a letter should be written in Mistress +Babington's name, offering Mrs. FitzHerbert the hospitality of Babington +House, and any other services she might wish. Further, they had decided +that the best thing to do was to go themselves to Derby next day, in +order to be at hand; since Mr. John was in London, and the sooner Mrs. +Thomas had friends with her, the better. + +"They may keep him in ward a long time," said Mistress Alice, "before +they bring him into open court--to try his courage. That is the way they +do. The charge, no doubt, will be that he has harboured and assisted +priests." + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Marjorie, as she lay awake that night, staring through the +summer dusk at the tall press which hid so much beside her dresses, that +the course on which her life moved was coming near to the rapids. Ever +since she had first put her hand to the work, ever since, even, she had +first offered her lover to God and let him go from her, it appeared as +if God had taken her at her word, and accepted in an instant that which +she offered so tremblingly. Her sight of London--the great buildings, +the crowds, the visible forces of the Crown, the company of gallant +gentlemen who were priests beneath their ruffs and feathers, the Tower, +her glimpse of Topcliffe--these things had shown her the dreadful +reality that lay behind this gentle scheming up in Derbyshire. Again, +there was Mr. Babington; here, too, she had perceived a mystery which +she could not understand: something moved behind the surface of which +not even Mr. Babington's sister knew anything, except that, indeed, it +was there. Again, there was the death of Father Campion--the very man +whom she had taken as a symbol of the Faith for which she fought with +her woman's wits; there was the news that came so suddenly and terribly +now and again, of one more priest gone to his death.... It was like the +slow rising of a storm: the air darkens; a stillness falls on the +countryside; the chirp of the birds seems as a plaintive word of fear; +then the thunder begins--a low murmur far across the horizons; then a +whisk of light, seen and gone again, and another murmur after it. And so +it gathers, dusk on dusk, stillness on stillness, murmur on murmur, +deepening and thickening; yet still no rain, but a drop or two that +falls and ceases again. And from the very delay it is all the more +dreadful; for the storm itself must break some time, and the artillery +war in the heavens, and the rain rush down, and flash follow flash, and +peal peal, and the climax come. + +So, then, it was with her. There was no drawing back now, even had she +wished it. And she wished it indeed, though she did not will it; she +knew that she must stand in her place, now more than ever, when the blow +had fallen so near. Now more than ever must she be discreet and +resolute, since Padley itself was fallen, in effect, if not in fact; and +Booth's Edge, in this valley at least, was the one hope of hunted men. +She must stand, then, in her place; she must plot and conspire and +scheme; she must govern her face and her manner more perfectly than +ever, for the sake of that tremendous Cause. + +As she lay there, listening to her friend's breathing in the darkness, +staring now at the doors of the press, now at the baggage that lay +heaped ready for the early start, these and a thousand other thoughts +passed before her. It was a long plot that had ended in this: it must +have reached its maturity weeks ago; the decision to strike must have +been reached before even Squire Audrey had given her the warning--for it +was only by chance that she had met him and he had told her.... And he, +too, Robin's father, would be in the midst of it all; he, too, that was +a Catholic by baptism, must sit with the other magistrates and threaten +and cajole as the manner was; and quiet Derby would be all astir; and +the Bassetts would be there, and Mr. Fenton, to see how their friend +fared in the dock; and the crowds would gather to see the prisoner +brought out, and the hunt would be up. And she herself, she, too, must +be there with the tearful little wife, who could do so little.... + +Thank God Robin was safe in Rheims!... + + +III + +Derby was, indeed, astir as they rode in, with the servants and the +baggage following behind, on the late afternoon of the next day. They +had ridden by easy stages, halting at Dethick for dinner, where the +Babingtons' house already hummed with dismay at the news that had come +from Derby last night. Mr. Anthony was away, and all seemed distracted. + +They rode in by the North road, seeing for the last mile or two of their +ride the towering spire of All Saints' Church high above the smoke of +the houses; they passed the old bridge half a mile from the +market-place, near the ancient camp; and even here overheard a sentence +or two from a couple of fellows that were leaning on the parapet, that +told them what was the talk of the town. It was plain that others +besides the Catholics understood the taking of Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert to +be a very significant matter. + +Babington House stood on the further side of the market-place from that +on which they entered, and Alice was for going there through side +streets. + +"They will take notice if we go straight through," she said. "It is +cheese-market to-day." + +"They will take notice in any case," said Marjorie. "It will be over the +town to-morrow that Mistress Babington is here, and it is best, +therefore, to come openly, as if without fear." + +And she turned to beckon the servants to draw up closer behind. + + * * * * * + +The square was indeed crowded as they came in. From all the country +round, and especially from Dovedale, the farmers came in on this day, or +sent their wives, for the selling of cheeses; and the small oblong of +the market--the smaller from its great Conduit and Cross--was full with +rows of stalls and carts, with four lanes only left along the edges by +which the traffic might pass; and even here the streams of passengers +forced the horses to go in single file. Groups of men--farmers' servants +who had driven in the carts, or walked with the pack-beasts--to whom +this day was a kind of feast, stood along the edges of the booths eyeing +all who went by. The inns, too, were doing a roaring trade, and it was +from one of these that the only offensive comment was made. + +Mistress Babington rode first, as suited her dignity, preceded by one of +the Dethick men whom they had taken up on their way, and who had pushed +forward when they came into the town to clear the road; and Mistress +Manners rode after her. The men stood aside as the cavalcade began to +go between the booths, and the most of them saluted Mistress Babington. +But as they were almost out of the market they came abreast one of the +inns from whose wide-open doors came a roar of voices from those that +were drinking within, and a group that was gathered on the step stopped +talking as the party came up. Marjorie glanced at them, and noticed +there was an air about two or three of the men that was plainly +town-bred; there was a certain difference in the cut of their clothes +and the way they wore them. Then she saw two or three whispering +together, and the next moment came a brutal shout. She could not catch +the sentence, but she heard the word "Papist" with an adjective, and +caught the unmistakable bullying tone of the man. The next instant there +broke out a confusion: a man dashed up the step from the crowd beneath, +and she caught a glimpse of Dick Sampson's furious face. Then the group +bore back, fighting, into the inn door; the Dethick servant leapt off +his horse, leaving it in some fellow's hands, and vanished up the step; +there was a rush of the crowd after him, and then the way was clear in +front, over the little bridge that spanned Bramble brook. + +When she drew level with Alice, she saw her friend's face, pale and +agitated. + +"It is the first time I have ever been cried at," she said. "Come; we +are nearly home. There is St. Peter's spire." + +"Shall we not--?" began Marjorie. + +"No, no" (and the pale face tightened suddenly). "My fellows will give +them a lesson. The crowd is on our side as yet." + + +IV + +As they rode in under the archway that led in beside the great doors of +Babington House, three or four grooms ran forward at once. It was plain +that their coming was looked far with some eagerness. + +Alice's manner seemed curiously different from that of the quiet woman +who had sat so patiently beside Marjorie in the manor among the hills: a +certain air of authority and dignity sat on her now that she was back in +her own place. + +"Is Mrs. FitzHerbert here?" she asked from the groom who helped her to +the ground. + +"Yes, mistress; she came from the inn this morning, and--" + +"Well?" + +"She is in a great taking, mistress. She would eat nothing, they said." + +Alice nodded. + +"You had best be off to the inn," she said, with a jerk of her head. "A +London fellow insulted us just now, and Sampson and Mallow--" + +She said no more. The man who held her horse slipped the reins into the +hands of the younger groom who stood by him, and was away and out of the +court in an instant. Marjorie smiled a little, astonished at her own +sense of exultation. The blows were not to be all one side, she +perceived. Then she followed Alice into the house. + +As they came through into the hall by the side-door that led through +from the court where they had dismounted, a figure was plainly visible +in the dusky light, going to and fro at the further end, with a quick, +nervous movement. The figure stopped as they advanced, and then darted +forward, crying out piteously: + +"Ah! you have come, thank God! thank God! They will not let me see him." + +"Hush! hush!" said Alice, as she caught her in her arms. + +"Mr. Bassett has been here," moaned the figure, "and he says it is +Topcliffe himself who has come down on the matter.... He says he is the +greatest devil of them all; and Thomas--" + +Then she burst out crying again. + + * * * * * + +It was an hour before they could get the full tale out of her. They took +her upstairs and made her sit down, for already a couple of faces peeped +from the buttery, and the servants would have gathered in another five +minutes; and together they forced her to eat and drink something, for +she had not tasted food since her arrival at the inn yesterday; and so, +little by little, they drew the story out. + +Mr. Thomas and his wife were actually on their way from Norbury when the +arrest had been made. Mr. Thomas had intended to pass a couple of nights +in Derby on various matters of the estates; and although, his wife said, +he had been somewhat silent and quiet since the warning had come to him +from Mr. Audrey, even he had thought it no danger to ride through Derby +on his way to Padley. He had sent a servant ahead to order rooms at the +inn for those two nights, and it was through that, it appeared, that the +news of his coming had reached the ears of the authorities. However that +was, and whether the stroke had been actually determined upon long +before, or had been suddenly decided upon at the news of his coming, it +fell out that, as the husband and wife were actually within sight of +Derby, on turning a corner they had found themselves surrounded by men +on horses, plainly gathered there for the purpose, with a magistrate in +the midst. Their names had been demanded, and, upon Mr. Thomas' +hesitation, they had been told that their names were well known, and a +warrant was produced, on a charge of recusancy and of aiding her Grace's +enemies, drawn out against Thomas FitzHerbert, and he had been placed +under arrest. Further, Mrs. FitzHerbert had been told she must not enter +the town with the party, but must go either before them or after them, +which she pleased. She had chosen to go first, and had been at the +windows of the inn in time to see her husband go by. There had been no +confusion, she said; the townsfolk appeared to know nothing of what was +happening until Mr. Thomas was safely lodged in the ward. + +Then she burst out crying again, lamenting the horrible state of the +prison, as it had been described to her, and demanding to know where +God's justice was in allowing His faithful servants to be so tormented +and harried.... + + * * * * * + +Marjorie watched her closely. She had met her once at Babington House, +when she was still Elizabeth Westley, but had thought little or nothing +of her since. She was a pale little creature, fair-haired and timorous, +and had now a hunted look of misery in her eyes that was very piteous to +see. It was plain they had done right in coming: this woman would be of +little service to her husband. + +Then when Alice had said a word or two, Marjorie began her questions. + +"Tell me," she said gently, "had you no warning of this?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"Not beyond that which came from yourself," she said; "and we never +thought--" + +"Hath Mr. Thomas had any priests with him lately?" + +"We have not had one at Norbury for the last six months, whilst we were +there, at least. My husband said it was better not, and that there was a +plenty of places for them to go to." + +"And you have not heard mass during that time?" + +The girl looked at her with tear-stained eyes. + +"No," she said. "But why do you ask that? My husband says--" + +"And when was the first you heard of Topcliffe? And what have you heard +of him?" + +The other's face fell into lines of misery. + +"I have heard he is the greatest devil her Grace uses. He hath authority +to question priests and others in his own house. He hath a rack there +that he boasts makes all others as Christmas toys. My husband--" + +Marjorie patted her arm gently. + +"There! there!" she said kindly. "Your husband is not in Topcliffe's +house. There will be no question of that. He is here in his own county, +and--" + +"But that will not save him!" cried the girl. "Why--" + +"Tell me" interrupted Marjorie, "was Topcliffe with the men that took +Mr. Thomas?" + +The other shook her head. + +"No; I heard he was not. He was come from London yesterday morning. That +was the first I heard of him." + +Then Alice began again to soothe her gently, to tell her that her +husband was in no great danger as yet, that he was well known for his +loyalty, and to do her best to answer the girl's pitiful questions. And +Marjorie sat back and considered. + +Marjorie had a remarkable knowledge of the methods of the Government, +gathered from the almost endless stories she had heard from travelling +priests and others; it was her business, too, to know them. Two or three +things, therefore, if the girl's account was correct, were plain. First, +that this was a concerted plan, and not a mere chance arrest. Mr. +Audrey's message to her showed so much, and the circumstances of +Topcliffe's arrival confirmed it. Next, it must be more than a simple +blow struck at one man, Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert: Topcliffe would not +have come down from London at all unless it were a larger quarry than +Mr. Thomas that was aimed at. Thirdly, and in conclusion, it would not +be easy therefore to get Mr. Thomas released again. There remained a +number of questions which she had as yet no means of answering. Was it +because Mr. Thomas was heir to the enormous FitzHerbert estates in this +county and elsewhere, that he was struck at? Or was it the beginning, +merely, of a general assault on Derbyshire, such as had taken place +before she was born? Or was it that Mr. Thomas' apparent coolness +towards the Faith (for that was evident by his not having heard mass for +so long, and by his refusal to entertain priests just at present)--was +it that lack of zeal on his part, which would, of course, be known to +the army of informers scattered now throughout England, which had marked +him out as the bird to be flown at? It would be, indeed, a blow to the +Catholic gentry of the county, if any of the FitzHerberts should fall! + +She stood up presently, grave with her thoughts. Mistress Alice glanced +up. + +"I am going out for a little," said Marjorie. + +"But--" + +"May two of your men follow me at a little distance? But I shall be safe +enough. I am going to a friend's house." + + * * * * * + +Marjorie knew Derby well enough from the old days when she rode in +sometimes with her father and slept at Mr. Biddell's; and, above all, +she knew all that Derby had once been. In one place, outside the town, +was St. Mary-in-Pratis, where the Benedictine nuns had lived; St. +Leonard's had had a hospital for lepers; St. Helen's had had the +Augustinian hospital for poor brothers and sisters; St. Alkmund's had +held a relic of its patron saint; all this she knew by heart; and it was +bitter now to be here on such business. But she went briskly out from +the hall; and ten minutes later she was knocking at the door of a little +attorney, the old partner of her father's, whose house faced the +Guildhall across the little market-square. It was opened by an old woman +who smiled at the sight of her. + +"Eh! come in, mistress. The master saw you ride into town. He is in the +upstairs parlour, with Mr. Bassett." + +The girl nodded to her bodyguard, and followed the old woman in. She +bowed as she passed the lawyer's confidential clerk and servant, Mr. +George Beaton, in the passage--a big man, with whom she had had +communications more than once on Popish affairs. + +Mr. John Biddell, like Marjorie's own father and his partner, was one of +those quiet folks who live through storms without attracting attention +from the elements, yet without the sacrifice of principle. He was a +Catholic, and never pretended to be anything else; but he was so little +and so harmless that no man ever troubled him. He pleaded before the +magistrates unobtrusively and deftly; and would have appeared before her +Grace herself or the Lord of Hell with the same timid and respectful +air, in his iron-rimmed spectacles, his speckless dark suit, and his +little black cap drawn down to his ears. He had communicated with +Marjorie again and again in the last two or three years on the subject +of wandering priests, calling them "gentlemen," with the greatest care, +and allowing no indiscreet word ever to appear in his letters, He +remembered King Harry, whom he had seen once in a visit of his to +London; he had assisted the legal authorities considerably in the +restoration under Queen Mary; and he had soundlessly acquiesced in the +changes again under Elizabeth--so far, at least, as mere law was +concerned. + +Mr. William Bassett was a very different man. First he was the +brother-in-law of Sir Thomas FitzHerbert himself; and was entirely of +the proper spirit to mate with that fearless family. He had considerable +estates, both at Langley and Blore, in both of which places he +cheerfully evaded the new laws, maintaining and helping priests in all +directions; a man, in fact, of an ardent and boisterous faith which he +extended (so the report ran) even to magic and astrology; a man of +means, too, in spite of his frequent fines for recusancy, and aged about +fifty years old at this time, with a high colour in his face and bright, +merry eyes. Marjorie had spoken with him once or twice only. + +These two men, then, first turned round in their chairs, and then stood +up to salute Marjorie, as she came into the upstairs parlour. It was a +somewhat dark room, panelled where there was space for it between the +books, and with two windows looking out on to the square. + +"I thought we should see you soon," said the attorney. "We saw you come, +mistress; and the fellows that cried out on you." + +"They had their deserts," said Marjorie, smiling. + +Mr. Bassett laughed aloud. + +"Indeed they did," he said in his deep, pleasant voice. "There were two +of them with bloody noses before all was done.... You have come for the +news, I suppose, mistress?" + +He eyed her genially and approvingly. He had heard a great deal of this +young lady in the last three or four years; and wished there were more +of her kind. + +"That is what I have come for," said Marjorie. "We have Mrs. Thomas over +at Babington House." + +"She'll be of no great service to her husband," said the other. "She +cries and laments too much. Now--" + +He stopped himself from paying his compliments. It seemed to him that +this woman, with her fearless, resolute face, would do very well without +them. + +Then he set himself to relate the tale. + +It seemed that little Mrs. Thomas had given a true enough report. It was +true that Topcliffe had arrived from London on the morning of the +arrest; and Mistress Manners was perfectly right in her opinion that +this signified a good deal. But, it seemed to Mr. Bassett, the Council +had made a great mistake in striking at the FitzHerberts. The quarry was +too strong, he said, for such birds as the Government used--too strong +and too many. For, first, no FitzHerbert had ever yet yielded in his +allegiance either to the Church or to the Queen's Grace; and it was not +likely that Mr. Thomas would begin: and, next, if one yielded (_suadente +diabolo_, and _Deus avertat_!) a dozen more would spring up. But the +position was serious for all that, said Mr. Bassett (and Mr. Biddell +nodded assent), for who would deal with the estates and make suitable +arrangements if the heir, who already largely controlled them, were laid +by the heels? But that the largeness of the undertaking was recognised +by the Council, was plain enough, in that no less a man than Topcliffe +(Mr. Bassett spat on the floor as he named him), Topcliffe, "the devil +possessed by worse devils," was sent down to take charge of the matter. + +Marjorie listened carefully. + +"You have no fear for yourself, sir?" she asked presently, as the man +sat back in his chair. + +Mr. Bassett smiled broadly, showing his strong white teeth between the +iron-grey hair that fringed his lips. + +"No; I have no fear," he said. "I have a score of my men quartered in +the town." + +"And the trial? When will that--" + +"The trial! Why, I shall praise God if the trial falls this year. They +will harry him before magistrates, no doubt; and they will squeeze him +in private. But the trial!... Why, they have not a word of treason +against him; and that is what they are after, no doubt." + +"Treason?" + +"Why, surely. That is what they seek to fasten upon us all. It would not +sound well that Christian should shed Christian's blood for +Christianity; but that her Grace should sorrowfully arraign her subjects +whom she loves and cossets so much, for treason--Why, that is as sound a +cause as any in the law-books!" + +He smiled in a manner that was almost a snarl, and his eyes grew narrow +with ironic merriment. + +"And Mr. Thomas--" began Marjorie hesitatingly. + +He whisked his glance on her like lightning. + +"Mr. Thomas will laugh at them all," he cried. "He is as staunch as any +of his blood. I know he has been careful of late; but, then, you must +remember how all the estates hang on him. But when he has his back to +the wall--or on the rack for that matter--he will be as stiff as iron. +They will have their work to bend him by a hair's breadth." + +Marjorie drew a breath of relief. She did not question Mr. Bassett's +judgment. But she had had an uneasy discomfort in her heart till he had +spoken so plainly. + +"Well, sir," she said, "that is what I chiefly came for. I wished to +know if I could do aught for Mr. Thomas or his wife; and--" + +"You can do a great deal for his wife," said he. "You can keep her quiet +and comfort her. She needs it, poor soul! I have told her for her +comfort that we shall have Thomas out again in a month--God forgive me +for the lie!" + +Marjorie stood up; and the men rose with her. + +"Why, what is that?" she said; and went swiftly to the window; for the +noise of the crying of the cheeses and the murmur of voices had ceased +all on a sudden. + +Straight opposite the window where she stood was the tiled flight of +stairs that ran up from the market-place to the first floor of the +Guildhall, a great building where the business of the town was largely +done, and where the magistrates sat when there was need; and a lane that +was clear of booths and carts had been left leading from that door +straight across the square, so that she could see the two little +brobonets--or iron guns--that guarded the door on either side. It was up +this lane that she looked, and down it that there advanced a little +procession, the very sight of which, it seemed, had stricken the square +to silence. Already the crowd was dividing from end to end, ranging +itself on either side--farmers' men shambled out of the way and turned +to see; women clambered on the carts holding up their children to see, +and from across the square came country-folk running, that they too +might see. The steps of the Cross were already crowded with sightseers. + +Yet, to outward sight, the little procession was ordinary enough. First +came three or four of the town-guard in livery, carrying their staves; +then half a dozen sturdy fellows; then a couple of dignified +gentlemen--one of them she knew: Mr. Roger Columbell, magistrate of the +town--and then, walking all alone, the figure of a man, tall and thin, a +little rustily, but very cleanly dressed in a dark suit, who carried his +head stooping forward as if he were looking on the ground for something, +or as if he deprecated so much notice. + +Marjorie saw no more than this clearly. She did not notice the group of +men that followed in case protection were needed for the agent of the +Council, nor the crowd that swirled behind. For, as the solitary figure +came beneath the windows she recognised the man whom she had seen once +in the Tower of London. + +"God smite the man!" growled a voice in her ear. "That is Topcliffe, +going to the prison, I daresay." + +And as Marjorie turned her pale face back, she saw the face of kindly +Mr. Bassett, suffused and convulsed with fury. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +"Marjorie! Marjorie! Wake up! the order hath come. It is for to-night." + +Very slowly Marjorie rose out of the glimmering depths of sleep into +which she had fallen on the hot August afternoon, sunk down upon the arm +of the great chair that stood by the parlour window, and saw Mrs. Thomas +radiant before her, waving a scrap of paper in her hand. + +Nearly two months were passed; and as yet no opportunity had been given +to the prisoner's wife to visit him, and during that time it had been +impossible to go back into the hills and leave the girl alone. The heat +of the summer had been stifling, down here in the valley; a huge plague +of grasshoppers had ravaged all England; and there were times when even +in the grass-country outside Derby, their chirping had become +intolerable. The heat, and the necessary seclusion, and the anxiety had +told cruelly upon the country girl; Marjorie's face had perceptibly +thinned; her eyes had shadows above and beneath; yet she knew she must +not go; since the young wife had attached herself to her altogether, +finding Alice (she said) too dull for her spirits. Mr. Bassett was gone +again. There was no word of a trial; although there had been a hearing +or two before the magistrates; and it was known that Topcliffe +continually visited the prison. + +One piece of news only had there been to comfort her during this time, +and that, that Mr. John's prediction had been fulfilled with regard to +the captured priest, Mr. Garlick, who, back from Rheims only a few +months, had been deported from England, since it was his first offence, +But he would soon be over again, no doubt, and next time with death as +the stake in the game. + + * * * * * + +Marjorie drew a long breath, and passed her hands over her forehead. + +"The order?" she said. "What order?" + +The girl explained, torrentially. A man had come just now from the +Guildhall; he had asked for Mrs. FitzHerbert; she had gone down into the +hall to see him; and all the rest of the useless details. But the effect +was that leave had been given at last to visit the prisoner--for two +persons, of which Mrs. FitzHerbert must be one; and that they must +present the order to the gaoler before seven o'clock, when they would be +admitted. She looked--such was the constitution of her mind--as happy as +if it were an order for his release. Marjorie drove away the last shreds +of sleep; and kissed her. + +"That is very good news," she said. "Now we will begin to do something." + + * * * * * + +The sun had sunk so far, when they set out at last, as to throw the +whole of the square into golden shade; and, in the narrow, overhung +Friar's Gate, where the windows of the upper stories were so near that a +man might shake hands with his friend on the other side, the twilight +had already begun. They had determined to walk, in order less to attract +attention, in spite of the filth through which they knew they must pass, +along the couple of hundred yards that separated them from the prison. +For every housewife emptied her slops out of doors, and swept her house +(when she did so at all) into the same place: now and again the heaps +would be pushed together and removed, but for the most part they lay +there, bones and rags and rotten fruit,--dusty in one spot, so that all +blew about--dampened in others where a pail or two had been poured +forth. The heat, too, was stifling, cast out again towards evening from +the roofs and walls that had drunk it in all day from the burning skies. + +As they stood before the door at last and waited, after beating the +great iron knocker on the iron plate, a kind of despair came down on +Marjorie. They had advanced just so far in two months as to be allowed +to speak with the prisoner; and, from her talkings with Mr. Biddell, had +understood how little that was. Indeed, he had hinted to her plainly +enough that even in this it might be that they were no more than pawns +in the enemy's hand; and that, under a show of mercy, it was often +allowed for a prisoner's friends to have free access to him in order to +shake his resolution. If there was any cause for congratulation then, it +lay solely in the thought that other means had so far failed. One thing +at least they knew, for their comfort, that there had been no talk of +torture.... + +It was a full couple of minutes before the door opened to show them a +thin, brown-faced man, with his sleeves rolled up, dressed over his +shirt and hose in a kind of leathern apron. He nodded as he saw the +ladies, with an air of respect, however, and stood aside to let them +come in. Then, with the same civility, he asked for the order, and read +it, holding it up to the light that came through the little barred +window over the door. + +It was an unspeakably dreary little entrance passage in which they +stood, wainscoted solidly from floor to ceiling with wood that looked +damp and black from age; the ceiling itself was indistinguishable in the +twilight; the floor seemed composed of packed earth, three or four doors +showed in the woodwork; that opposite to the one by which they had +entered stood slightly ajar, and a smoky light shone from beyond it. +The air was heavy and hot and damp, and smelled of mildew. + +The man gave the order back when he had read it, made a little gesture +that resembled a bow, and led the way straight forward. + +They found themselves, when they had passed through the half-open door, +in another passage running at right-angles to the entrance, with +windows, heavily barred, so as to exclude all but the faintest twilight, +even though the sun was not yet set; there appeared to be foliage of +some kind, too, pressing against them from outside, as if a little +central yard lay there; and the light, by which alone they could see +their way along the uneven earth floor, came from a flambeau which hung +by the door, evidently put there just now by the man who had opened to +them; he led them down this passage to the left, down a couple of steps; +unlocked another door of enormous weight and thickness and closed this +behind them. They found themselves in complete darkness. + +"I'll be with you in a moment, mistress," said his voice; and they heard +his steps go on into the dark and cease. + +Marjorie stood passive; she could feel the girl's hands clasp her arm, +and could hear her breath come like sobs. But before she could speak, a +light shone somewhere on the roof; and almost immediately the man came +back carrying another flambeau. He called to them civilly; they +followed. Marjorie once trod on some soft, damp thing that crackled +beneath her foot. They groped round one more corner; waited, while they +heard a key turning in a lock. Then the man stood aside, and they went +past into the room. A figure was standing there; but for the first +moment they could see no more. Great shadows fled this way and that as +the gaoler hung up the flambeau. Then the door closed again behind +them; and Elizabeth flung herself into her husband's arms. + + +II + +When Marjorie could see him, as at last he put his wife into the single +chair that stood in the cell and gave her the stool, himself sitting +upon the table, she was shocked by the change in his face. It was true +that she had only the wavering light of the flambeau to see him by (for +the single barred window was no more than a pale glimmer on the wall), +yet even that shadowy illumination could not account for his paleness +and his fallen face. He was dressed miserably, too; his clothes were +disordered and rusty-looking; and his features looked out, at once +pinched and elongated. He blinked a little from time to time; his lips +twitched beneath his ill-cut moustache and beard; and little spasms +passed, as he talked, across his whole face. It was pitiful to see him; +and yet more pitiful to hear him talk; for he assumed a kind of +courtesy, mixed with bitterness. Now and again he fell silent, glancing +with a swift and furtive movement of his eyes from one to the other of +his visitors and back again. He attempted to apologise for the +miserableness of the surroundings in which he received them--saying that +her Grace his hostess could not be everywhere at once; and that her +guests must do the best that they could. And all this was mixed with +sudden wails from his wife, sudden graspings of his hands by hers. It +all seemed to the quiet girl, who sat ill-at-ease on the little +three-legged stool, that this was not the way to meet adversity. Then +she drove down her criticism; and told herself that she ought rather to +admire one of Christ's confessors. + +"And you bring me no hope, then, Mistress Manners?" he said presently +(for she had told him that there was no talk yet of any formal +trial)--"no hope that I may meet my accusers face to face? I had thought +perhaps--" + +He lifted his eyes swiftly to hers, and dropped them again. + +She shook her head. + +"And yet that is all that I ask now--only to meet my accusers. They can +prove nothing against me--except, indeed, my recusancy; and that they +have known this long time back. They can prove nothing as to the +harbouring of any priests--not within the last year, at any rate, for I +have not done so. It seemed to me--" + +He stopped again, and passed his shaking hand over his mouth, eyeing the +two women with momentary glances, and then looking down once more. + +"Yes?" said Marjorie. + +He slipped off from the table, and began to move about restlessly. + +"I have done nothing--nothing at all," he said. "Indeed, I thought--" +And once more he was silent. + + * * * * * + +He began to talk presently of the Derbyshire hills of Padley and of +Norbury. He asked his wife of news from home, and she gave it him, +interrupting herself with laments. Yet all the while his eyes strayed to +Marjorie as if there was something he would ask of her, but could not. +He seemed completely unnerved, and for the first time in her life the +girl began to understand something of what gaol-life must signify. She +had heard of death and the painful Question; and she had perceived +something of the heroism that was needed to meet them; yet she had never +before imagined what that life of confinement might be, until she had +watched this man, whom she had known in the world as a curt and almost +masterful gentleman, careful of his dress, particular of the deference +that was due to him, now become this worn prisoner, careless of his +appearance, who stroked his mouth continually, once or twice gnawing his +nails, who paced about in this abominable hole, where a tumbled heap of +straw and blankets represented a bed, and a rickety table with a chair +and a stool his sole furniture. It seemed as if a husk had been stripped +from him, and a shrinking creature had come out of it which at present +she could not recognise. + +Then he suddenly wheeled on her, and for the first time some kind of +forcefulness appeared in his manner. + +"And my Uncle Bassett?" he cried abruptly. "What is he doing all this +while?" + +Marjorie said that Mr. Bassett had been most active on his behalf with +the lawyers, but, for the present, was gone back again to his estates. +Mr. Thomas snorted impatiently. + +"Yes, he is gone back again," he cried, "and he leaves me to rot here! +He thinks that I can bear it for ever, it seems!" + +"Mr. Bassett has done his utmost, sir," said Marjorie. "He exposed +himself here daily." + +"Yes, with twenty fellows to guard him, I suppose. I know my Uncle +Bassett's ways.... Tell me, if you please, how matters stand." + +Marjorie explained again. There was nothing in the world to be done +until the order came for his trial--or, rather, everything had been done +already. His lawyers were to rely exactly on the defence that had been +spoken of just now; it was to be shown that the prisoner had harboured +no priests; and the witnesses had already been spoken with--men from +Norbury and Padley, who would swear that to their certain knowledge no +priest had been received by Mr. FitzHerbert at least during the previous +year or eighteen months. There was, therefore, no kind of reason why +Mr. Bassett or Mr. John FitzHerbert should remain any longer in Derby. +Mr. John had been there, but had gone again, under advice from the +lawyers; but he was in constant communication with Mr. Biddell, who had +all the papers ready and the names of the witnesses, and had made more +than one application already for the trial to come on. + +"And why has neither my father nor my Uncle Bassett come to see me?" +snapped the man. + +"They have tried again and again, sir," said Marjorie. "But permission +was refused. They will no doubt try again, now that Mrs. FitzHerbert has +been admitted." + +He paced up and down again for a few steps without speaking. Then again +he turned on her, and she could see his face working uncontrolledly. + +"And they will enjoy the estates, they think, while I rot here!" + +"Oh, my Thomas!" moaned his wife, reaching out to him. But he paid no +attention to her. + +"While I rot here!" he cried again. "But I will not! I tell you I will +not!" + +"Yes, sir?" said Marjorie gently, suddenly aware that her heart had +begun to beat swiftly. + +He glanced at her, and his face changed a little. + +"I will not," he murmured. "I must break out of my prison. Only their +accursed--" + +Again he interrupted himself, biting sharply on his lip. + + * * * * * + +For an instant the girl had thought that all her old distrust of him was +justified, and that he contemplated in some way the making of terms that +would be disgraceful to a Catholic. But what terms could these be? He +was a FitzHerbert; there was no evading his own blood; and he was the +victim chosen by the Council to answer for the rest. Nothing, then, +except the denial of his faith--a formal and deliberate apostasy--could +serve him; and to think that of the nephew of old Sir Thomas, and the +son of John, was inconceivable. There seemed no way out; the torment of +this prison must be borne. She only wished he could have borne it more +manfully. + +It seemed, as she watched him, that some other train of thought had +fastened upon him. His wife had begun again her lamentations, bewailing +his cell and his clothes, and his loss of liberty, asking him whether he +were not ill, whether he had food enough to eat; and he hardly answered +her or glanced at her, except once when he remembered to tell her that a +good gift to the gaoler would mean a little better food, and perhaps +more light for himself. And then he resumed his pacing; and, three or +four times as he turned, the girl caught his eyes fixed on hers for one +instant. She wondered what was in his mind to say. + +Even as she wondered there came a single loud rap upon the door, and +then she heard the key turning. He wheeled round, and seemed to come to +a determination. + +"My dearest," he said to his wife, "here is the gaoler come to turn you +out again. I will ask him--" He broke off as the man stepped in. + +"Mr. Gaoler," he said, "my wife would speak alone with you a moment." +(He nodded and winked at his wife, as if to tell her that this was the +time to give him the money.) + +"Will you leave Mistress Manners here for a minute or two while my wife +speaks with you in the passage?" + +Then Marjorie understood that she had been right. + +The man who held the keys nodded without speaking. + +"Then, my dearest wife," said Thomas, embracing her all of a sudden, +and simultaneously drawing her towards the door, "we will leave you to +speak with the man. He will come back for Mistress Manners directly." + +"Oh! my Thomas!" wailed the girl, clinging to him. + +"There, there, my dearest. And you will come and see me again as soon as +you can get the order." + + * * * * * + +The instant the door was closed he came up to Marjorie and his face +looked ghastly. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I dare not speak to my wife. But ... but, +for Jesu's sake, get me out of here. I ... I cannot bear it.... +Topcliffe comes to see me every day.... He ... he speaks to me +continually of--O Christ! Christ! I cannot bear it!" + +He dropped suddenly on to his knees by the table and hid his face. + + +III + +At Babington House Marjorie slept, as was often the custom, in the same +room with her maid--a large, low room, hung all round with painted +cloths above the low wainscoting. + +On the night after the visit to the prison, Janet noticed that her +mistress was restless; and that while she would say nothing of what was +troubling her, and only bade her go to bed and to sleep, she herself +would not go to bed. At last, in sheer weariness, the maid slept. + +She awakened later, at what time she did not know, and, in her +uneasiness, sat up and looked about her; and there, still before the +crucifix, where she had seen her before she slept, kneeled her mistress. +She cried out in a loud whisper: + +"Come to bed, mistress; come to bed." + +And, at the word, Marjorie started; then she rose, turned, and in the +twilight of the summer night began to prepare herself for bed, without +speaking. Far away across the roofs of Derby came the crowing of a cock +to greet the dawn. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I + +It was a fortnight later that there came suddenly to Babington House old +Mr. Biddell himself. Up to the present he had been careful not to do so. +He appeared in the great hall an hour before dinner-time, as the tables +were being set, and sent a servant for Mistress Manners. + +"Hark you!" he said; "you need not rouse the whole house. It is with +Mistress Manners alone that my business lies." + +He broke off, as Mrs. FitzHerbert looked over the gallery. + +"Mr. Biddell!" she cried. + +He shook his head, but he seemed to speak with some difficulty. + +"It is just a rumour," he said, "such as there hath been before. I beg +you--" + +"That ... there will be no trial at all?" + +"It is just a rumour," he repeated. "I did not even come to trouble you +with it. It is with Mistress Manners that--" + +"I am coming down," cried Mrs. Thomas, and vanished from the gallery. + +Mr. Biddell acted with decision. He whisked out again into the passage +from the court, and there ran straight into Marjorie, who was coming in +from the little enclosed garden at the back of the house. + +"Quick!" he said. "Quick! Mrs. Thomas is coming, and I do not wish--" + +She led the way without a word back into the court, along a few steps, +and up again to the house into a little back parlour that the steward +used when the house was full. It was unoccupied now, and looked out into +the garden whence she was just come. She locked the door when he had +entered, and came and sat down out of sight of any that might be +passing. + +"Sit here," she said; and then: "Well?" she asked. + +He looked at her gravely and sadly, shaking his head once or twice. Then +he drew out a paper or two from a little lawyer's valise that he +carried, and, as he did so, heard a hand try the door outside. + +"That is Mrs. Thomas," whispered the girl. "She will not find us." + +He waited till the steps moved away again. Then he began. He looked +anxious and dejected. + +"I fear it is precisely as you thought," he said. "I have followed up +every rumour in the place. And the first thing that is certain is that +Topcliffe leaves Derby in two days from now. I had it as positive +information that his men have orders to prepare for it. The second thing +is that Topcliffe is greatly elated; and the third is that Mr. +FitzHerbert will be released as soon as Topcliffe is gone." + +"You are sure this time, sir?" + +He assented by a movement of his head. + +"I dared not tell Mrs. Thomas just now. She would give me no peace. I +said it was but a rumour, and so it is; but it is a rumour that hath +truth behind it. He hath been moved, too, these three days back, to +another cell, and hath every comfort." + +He shook his head again. + +"But he hath made no promise--" began Marjorie breathlessly. + +"It is exactly that which I am most afraid of," said the lawyer. "If he +had yielded, and, consented to go to church, it would have been in +every man's mouth by now. But he hath not, and I should fear it less if +he had. That's the very worst part of my news." + +"I do not understand--" + +Mr. Biddell tapped his papers on the table. + +"If he were an open and confessed enemy, I should fear it less," he +repeated. "It is not that. But he must have given some promise to +Topcliffe that pleases the fellow more. And what can that be but that--" + +Marjorie turned yet whiter. She sighed once as if to steady herself. She +could not speak, but she nodded. + +"Yes, Mistress Manners," said the old man. "I make no doubt at all that +he hath promised to assist him against them all--against Mr. John his +father, it may be, or Mr. Bassett, or God knows whom! And yet still +feigning to be true! And that is not all." + +She looked at him. She could not conceive worse than this, if indeed it +were true. + +"And do you think," he continued, "that Mr. Topcliffe will do all this +for love, or rather, for mere malice? I have heard more of the fellow +since he hath been in Derby than in all my life before; and, I tell you, +he is for feathering his own nest if he can." He stopped. + +"Mistress, did you know that he had been out to Padley three or four +times since he came to Derby?... Well, I tell you now that he has. Mr. +John was away, praise God; but the fellow went all round the place and +greatly admired it." + +"He went out to see what he could find?" asked the girl, still +whispering. + +The other shook his head. + +"No, mistress; he searched nothing. I had it all from one of his +fellows, through one of mine. He searched nothing; he sat a great while +in the garden, and ate some of the fruit; he went through the hall and +the rooms, and admired all that was to be seen there. He went up into +the chapel-room, too, though there was nothing there to tell him what it +was; and he talked a great while to one of the men about the farms, and +the grazing, and such-like, but he meddled with nothing." (The old man's +face suddenly wrinkled into fury.) "The devil went through it all like +that, and admired it; and he came out to it again two or three times and +did the like." + +He stopped to examine the notes he had made, and Marjorie sat still, +staring on him. + +It was worse than anything she could have conceived possible. That a +FitzHerbert should apostatise was incredible enough; but that one should +sell his family--It was impossible. + +"Mr. Biddell," she whispered piteously, "it cannot be. It is some--" + +He shook his head suddenly and fiercely. + +"Mistress Manners, it is as plain as daylight to me. Do you think I +could believe it without proof? I tell you I have lain awake all last +night, fitting matters one into the other. I did not hear about Padley +till last night, and it gave me all that I needed. I tell you Topcliffe +hath cast his foul eyes on Padley and coveted it; and he hath demanded +it as a price for Mr. Thomas' liberty. I do not know what else he hath +promised, but I will stake my fortune that Padley is part of it. That is +why he is so elated. He hath been here nearly this three months back; he +hath visited Mr. FitzHerbert nigh every day; he hath cajoled him, he +hath threatened him; he hath worn out his spirit by the gaol and the +stinking food and the loneliness; and he hath prevailed, as he hath +prevailed with many another. And the end of it all is that Mr. +FitzHerbert hath yielded--yet not openly. Maybe that is part of the +bargain upon the other side, that he should keep his name before the +world. And on this side he hath promised Padley, if that he may but keep +the rest of the estates, and have his liberty. I tell you that alone +cuts all the knots of this tangle.... Can you cut them in any other +manner?" + + * * * * * + +There was a long silence. From the direction of the kitchen came the +sound of cheerful voices, and the clatter of lids, and from the walled +garden outside the chatter of birds.... + +At last the girl spoke. + +"I cannot believe it without evidence," she said. "It may be so. God +knows! But I do not.... Mr. Biddell?" + +"Well, mistress?" + +The lawyer's head was sunk on his breast; he spoke listlessly. + +"He will have given some writing to Mr. Topcliffe, will he not? if this +be true. Mr. Topcliffe is not the man--" + +The old man lifted his head sharply; then he nodded. + +"That is the shrewd truth, mistress. Mr. Topcliffe will not trust to +another's honour; he hath none of his own!" + +"Well," said Marjorie, "if all this be true, Mr. Topcliffe will already +have that writing in his possession." + +She paused. + +"Eh?" said the lawyer. + +They looked at one another again in silence. It would have seemed to +another that the two minds talked swiftly and wordlessly together, the +trained thought of the lawyer and the quick wit of the woman; for when +the man spoke again, it was as if they had spoken at length. + +"But we must not destroy the paper," he said, "or the fat will be in +the fire. We must not let Mr. FitzHerbert know that he is found out." + +"No," said the girl. "But to get a view of it.... And a copy of it, to +send to his family." + +Again the two looked each at the other in silence--as if they were +equals--the old man and the girl. + + +II + +It was the last night before the Londoners were to return. + +They had lived royally these last three months. The agent of the Council +had had a couple of the best rooms in the inn that looked on to the +market-square, where he entertained his friends, and now and then a +magistrate or two. Even Mr. Audrey, of Matstead, had come to him once +there, with another, but had refused to stay to supper, and had ridden +away again alone. + +Downstairs, too, his men had fared very well indeed. They knew how to +make themselves respected, for they carried arms always now, since the +unfortunate affair a day after the arrival, when two of them had been +gravely battered about by two rustic servants, who, they learned, were +members of a Popish household in the town. But all the provincial +fellows were not like this. There was a big man, half clerk and half +man-servant to a poor little lawyer, who lived across the square--a man +of no wit indeed, but, at any rate, one of means and of generosity, too, +as they had lately found out--means and generosity, they understood, +that were made possible by the unknowing assistance of his master. In a +word it was believed among Mr. Topcliffe's men that all the refreshment +which they had lately enjoyed, beyond that provided by their master, was +at old Mr. Biddell's expense, though he did not know it, and that +George Beaton, fool though he was, was a cleverer man than his employer. +Lately, too, they had come to learn, that although George Beaton was +half clerk, half man-servant, to a Papist, he was yet at heart as stout +a Protestant as themselves, though he dared not declare it for fear of +losing his place. + +On this last night they made very merry indeed, and once or twice the +landlord pushed his head through the doorway. The baggage was packed, +and all was in readiness for a start soon after dawn. + +There came a time when George Beaton said that he was stifling with the +heat; and, indeed, in this low-ceilinged room after supper, with the +little windows looking on to the court, the heat was surprising. The men +sat in their shirts and trunks. So that it was as natural as possible +that George should rise from his place and sit down again close to the +door where the cool air from the passage came in; and from there, once +more, he led the talk, in his character of rustic and open-handed boor; +he even beat the sullen man who was next him genially over the head to +make him give more room, and then he proposed a toast to Mr. Topcliffe. + +It was about half an hour later, when George was becoming a little +anxious, that he drew out at last a statement that Mr. Topcliffe had a +great valise upstairs, full of papers that had to do with his law +business. (He had tried for this piece of information last night and the +night before, but had failed to obtain it.) Ten minutes later again, +then, when the talk had moved to affairs of the journey, and the valise +had been forgotten, it was an entirely unsuspicious circumstance that +George and the man that sat next him should slip out to take the air in +the stable-court. The Londoner was so fuddled with drink as to think +that he had gone out at his own deliberate wish; and there, in the +fresh air, the inevitable result followed; his head swam, and he leaned +on big George for support. And here, by the one stroke of luck that +visited poor George this evening, it fell that he was just in time to +see Mr. Topcliffe himself pass the archway in the direction of Friar's +Gate, in company with a magistrate, who had supped with him upstairs. + +Up to this point George had moved blindly, step by step. He had had his +instructions from his master, yet all that he had been able to determine +was the general plan to find out where the papers were kept, to remain +in the inn till the last possible moment, and to watch for any chance +that might open to him. Truly, he had no more than that, except, indeed, +a vague idea that it might be necessary to bribe one of the men to rob +his master. Yet there was everything against this, and it was, indeed, a +last resort. It seemed now, however, that another way was open. It was +exceedingly probable that Mr. Topcliffe was off for his last visit to +the prisoner, and, since a magistrate was with him, it was exceedingly +improbable that he would take the paper with him. It was not the kind of +paper--if, indeed, it existed at all--that more persons would be allowed +to see than were parties to the very discreditable affair. + +And now George spoke earnestly and convincingly. He desired to see the +baggage of so great a man as Mr. Topcliffe; he had heard so much of him. +His friend was a good fellow who trusted him (here George embraced him +warmly). Surely such a little thing would be allowed as for him, George, +to step in and view Mr. Topcliffe's baggage, while the faithful servant +kept watch in the passage! Perhaps another glass of ale-- + + +III + +"Yes, sir," said George an hour later, still a little flushed with the +amount of drink he had been forced to consume. "I had some trouble to +get it. But I think this is what your honour wanted." + +He began to search in his deep breast-pocket. + +"Tell me," said Mr. Biddell. + +"I got the fellow to watch in the passage, sir; him that I had made +drunk, while I was inside. There were great bundles of papers in the +valise.... No, sir, it was strapped up only.... The most of the papers +were docketed very legally, sir; so I did not have to search long. There +were three or four papers in a little packet by themselves; besides a +great packet that was endorsed with Mr. FitzHerbert's name, as well as +Mr. Topcliffe's and my lord Shrewsbury's; and I think I should not have +had time to look that through. But, by God's mercy, it was one of the +three or four by themselves." + +He had the paper in his hand by now. The lawyer made a movement to take +it. Then he restrained himself. + +"Tell me, first," he said. + +"Well, sir," said George, with a pardonable satisfaction in spinning the +matter out, "one was all covered with notes, and was headed 'Padley.' I +read that through, sir. It had to do with the buildings and the acres, +and so forth. The second paper I could make nothing out of; it was in +cypher, I think. The third paper was the same; and the fourth, sir, was +that which I have here." + +The lawyer started. + +"But I told you--" + +"Yes, sir; I should have said that this is the copy--or, at least, an +abstract. I made the abstract by the window, sir, crouching down so that +none should see me. Then I put all back as before, and came out again; +the fellow was fast asleep against the door." + +"And Topcliffe--" + +"Mr. Topcliffe, sir, returned half an hour afterwards in company again +with Mr. Hamilton. I waited a few minutes to see that all was well, and +then I came to you, sir." + +There was silence in the little room for a moment. It was the small back +office of Mr. Biddell, where he did his more intimate business, looking +out on to a paved court. The town was for the most part asleep, and +hardly a sound came through the closed windows. + +Then the lawyer turned and put out his hand for the paper without a +word. He nodded to George, who went out, bidding him good-night. + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later Mr. Biddell walked quietly through the passengers' +gate by the side of the great doors that led to the court beside +Babington House, closing it behind him. He knew that it would be left +unbarred till eleven o'clock that night. He passed on through the court, +past the house door, to the steward's office, where through heavy +curtains a light glimmered. As he put his hand on the door it opened, +and Marjorie was there. He said nothing, nor did she. Her face was pale +and steady, and there was a question in her eyes. For answer he put the +paper into her hands, and sat down while she read it. The stillness was +as deep here as in the office he had just left. + + +IV + +It was a minute or two before either spoke. The girl read the paper +twice through, holding it close to the little hand-lamp that stood on +the table. + +"You see, mistress," he said, "it is as bad as it can be." + +She handed back the paper to him; he slid out his spectacles, put them +on, and held the writing to the light. + +"Here are the points, you see ..." he went on. "I have annotated them in +the margin. First, that Thomas FitzHerbert be released from Derby gaol +within three days from the leaving of Topcliffe for London, and that he +be no more troubled, neither in fines nor imprisonment; next, that he +have secured to him, so far as the laws shall permit, all his +inheritance from Sir Thomas, from his father, and from any other +bequests whether of his blood-relations or no; thirdly, that Topcliffe +do 'persecute to the death'"--(the lawyer paused, cast a glance at the +downcast face of the girl) "'--do persecute to the death' his uncle Sir +Thomas, his father John, and William Bassett his kinsman; and, in return +for all this, Thomas FitzHerbert shall become her Grace's sworn +servant--that is, Mistress Manners, her Grace's spy, pursuivant, +informer and what-not--and that he shall grant and secure to Richard +Topcliffe, Esquire, and to his heirs for ever, 'the manors of Over +Padley and Nether Padley, on the Derwent, with six messuages, two +cottages, ten gardens, ten orchards, a thousand acres of land, five +hundred acres of meadow-land, six hundred acres of pasture, three +hundred acres of wood, a thousand acres of furze and heath, in Padley, +Grindleford and Lyham, in the parish of Hathersage, in consideration of +eight hundred marks of silver, to be paid to Thomas FitzHerbert, +Esquire, etc.'" + +The lawyer put the paper down, and pushed his spectacles on to his +forehead. + +"That is a legal instrument?" asked the girl quietly, still with +downcast eyes. + +"It is not yet fully completed, but it is signed and witnessed. It can +become a legal instrument by Topcliffe's act; and it would pass +muster--" + +"It is signed by Mr. Thomas?" + +He nodded. + +She was silent again. He began to tell her of how he had obtained it, +and of George's subtlety and good fortune; but she seemed to pay no +attention. She sat perfectly still. When he had ended, she spoke again. + +"A sworn servant of her Grace--" she began. + +"Topcliffe is a sworn servant of her Grace," he said bitterly; "you may +judge by that what Thomas FitzHerbert hath become." + +"We shall have his hand, too, against us all, then?" + +"Yes, mistress; and, what is worse, this paper I take it--" (he tapped +it) "this paper is to be a secret for the present. Mr. Thomas will still +feign himself to be a Catholic, with Catholics, until he comes into all +his inheritances. And, meantime, he will supply information to his new +masters." + +"Why cannot we expose him?" + +"Where is the proof? He will deny it." + +She paused. + +"We can at least tell his family. You will draw up the informations?" + +"I will do so." + +"And send them to Sir Thomas and Mr. Bassett?" + +"I will do so." + +"That may perhaps prevent his inheritance coming to him as quickly as he +thinks." + +The lawyer's eyes gleamed. + +"And what of Mrs. Thomas, mistress?" + +Marjorie lifted her eyes. + +"I do not think a great deal of Mrs. Thomas," she said. "She is honest, +I think; but she could not be trusted with a secret. But I will tell +Mistress Babington, and I will warn what priests I can." + +"And if it leaks out?" + +"It must leak out." + +"And yourself? Can you meet Mr. Thomas again just now? He will be out in +three days." + +Marjorie drew a long breath. + +"No, sir; I cannot meet him. I should betray what I felt. I shall make +excuses to Mrs. Thomas, and go home to-morrow." + + + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +The "Red Bull" in Cheapside was all alight; a party had arrived there +from the coast not an hour ago, and the rooms that had been bespoken by +courier occupied the greater part of the second floor; the rest of the +house was already filled by another large company, spoken for by Mr. +Babington, although he himself was not one of them. And it seemed to the +shrewd landlord that these two parties were not wholly unknown to one +another, although, as a discreet man, he said nothing. + +The latest arrived party was plainly come from the coast. They had +arrived a little after sunset on this stormy August day, splashed to the +shoulders by the summer-mud, and drenched to the skin by the heavy +thunder-showers. Their baggage had a battered and sea-going air about +it, and the landlord thought he would not be far away if he conjectured +Rheims as their starting-point; there were three gentlemen in the party, +and four servants apparently; but he knew better than to ask questions +or to overhear what seemed rather over-familiar conversation between the +men and their masters. There was only one, however, whom he remembered +to have lodged before, over five years ago. The name of this one was Mr. +Alban. But all this was not his business. His duty was to be hearty and +deferential and entirely stupid; and certainly this course of behaviour +brought him a quantity of guests. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Alban, about half-past nine o'clock, had finished unstrapping his +luggage. It was of the most innocent description, and contained nothing +that all the world might not see. He had made arrangements that articles +of another kind should come over from Rheims under the care of one of +the "servants," whose baggage would be less suspected. The distribution +would take place in a day or two. These articles comprised five sets of +altar vessels, five sets of mass-vestments, made of a stuff woven of all +the liturgical colours together, a dozen books, a box of medals, another +of _Agnus Deis_--little wax medallions stamped with the figure of a Lamb +supporting a banner--a bunch of beads, and a heavy little square package +of very thin altar-stones. + +As he laid out the suit of clothes that he proposed to wear next day, +there was a rapping on his door. + +"Mr. Babington is come--sir." (The last word was added as an obvious +afterthought, in case of listeners.) + +Robin sprang up; the door was opened by his "servant," and Anthony came +in, smiling. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Anthony Babington had broadened and aged considerably during the +last five years. He was still youthful-looking, but he was plainly a man +and no longer a boy. And he presently said as much for his friend. + +"You are a man, Robin," he said.--"Why, it slipped my mind!" + +He knelt down promptly on the strip of carpet and kissed the palms of +the hands held out to him, as is the custom to do with newly-ordained +priests, and Robin murmured a blessing. + +Then the two sat down again. + +"And now for the news," said Robin. + +Anthony's face grew grave. + +"Yours first," he said. + +So Robin told him. He had been ordained priest a month ago, at +Chalons-sur-Marne.... The college was as full as it could hold.... They +had had an unadventurous journey. + +Anthony put a question or two, and was answered. + +"And now," said Robin, "what of Derbyshire; and of the country; and of +my father? And is it true that Ballard is taken?" + +Anthony threw an arm over the back of his chair, and tried to seem at +his ease. + +"Well," he said, "Derbyshire is as it ever was. You heard of Thomas +FitzHerbert's defection?" + +"Mistress Manners wrote to me of it, more than two years ago." + +"Well, he does what he can: he comes and goes with his wife or without +her. But he comes no more to Padley. And he scarcely makes a feint even +before strangers of being a Catholic, though he has not declared +himself, nor gone to church, at any rate in his own county. Here in +London I have seen him more than once in Topcliffe's company. But I +think that every Catholic in the country knows of it by now. That is +Mistress Manners' doing. My sister says there has never been a woman +like her." + +Robin's eyes twinkled. + +"I always said so," he said. "But none would believe me. She has the wit +and courage of twenty men. What has she been doing?" + +"What has she not done?" cried Anthony. "She keeps herself for the most +part in her house; and my sister spends a great deal of time with her; +but her men, who would die for her, I think, go everywhere; and half the +hog-herds and shepherds of the Peak are her sworn men. I have given your +Dick to her; he was mad to do what he could in that cause. So her men go +this way and that bearing her letters or her messages to priests who are +on their way through the county; and she gets news--God knows how!--of +what is a-stirring against us. She has saved Mr. Ludlam twice, and Mr. +Garlick once, as well as Mr. Simpson once, by getting the news to them +of the pursuivants' coming, and having them away into the Peak. And yet +with all this, she has never been laid by the heels." + +"Have they been after her, then?" asked Robin eagerly. + +"They have had a spy in her house twice to my knowledge, but never +openly; and never a shred of a priest's gown to be seen, though mass had +been said there that day. But they have never searched it by force. And +I think they do not truly suspect her at all." + +"Did I not say so?" cried Robin. "And what of my father? He wrote to me +that he was to be made magistrate; and I have never written to him +since." + +"He hath been made magistrate," said Anthony drily; "and he sits on the +bench with the rest of them." + +"Then he is all of the same mind?" + +"I know nothing of his mind. I have never spoken with him this six years +back. I know his acts only. His name was in the 'Bond of Association,' +too!" + +"I have heard of that." + +"Why, it is two years old now. Half the gentry of England have joined +it," said Anthony bitterly. "It is to persecute to the death any +pretender to the Crown other than our Eliza." + +There was a pause. Robin understood the bitterness. + +"And what of Mr. Ballard?" asked Robin. + +"Yes; he is taken," said Anthony slowly, watching him. "He was taken a +week ago." + +"Will they banish him, then?" + +"I think they will banish him." + +"Why, yes--it is the first time he hath been taken. And there is +nothing great against him?" + +"I think there is not," said Anthony, still with that strange +deliberateness. + +"Why do you look at me like that?" + +Anthony stood up without answering. Then he began to pace about. As he +passed the door he looked to the bolt carefully. Then he turned again to +his friend. + +"Robin," he said, "would you sooner know a truth that will make you +unhappy, or be ignorant of it?" + +"Does it concern myself or my business?" asked Robin promptly. + +"It concerns you and every priest and every Catholic in England. It is +what I have hinted to you before." + +"Then I will hear it." + +"It is as if I told it in confession?" + +Robin paused. + +"You may make it so," he said, "if you choose." + +Anthony looked at him an instant. "Well," he said, "I will not make a +confession, because there is no use in that now--but--Well, listen!" he +said, and sat down. + + +II + +When he ceased, Robin lifted his head. He was as white as a sheet. + +"You have been refused absolution before for this?" + +"I was refused absolution by two priests; but I was granted it by a +third." + +"Let me see that I have the tale right. + +"Yourself, with a number of others, have bound yourselves by an oath to +kill her Grace, and to set Mary on the throne. This has taken shape now +since the beginning of the summer. You yourself are now living in Mr. +Walsingham's house, in Seething Lane, under the patronage of her Grace, +and you show yourself freely at court. You have proceeded so far, under +fear of Mr. Ballard's arrest, as to provide one of your company with +clothes and necessaries that can enable him to go to court; and it was +your intention, as well as his, that he should take opportunity to kill +her Grace. But to-day only you have become persuaded that the old design +was the better; and you wish first to arrange matters with the Queen of +the Scots, so that when all is ready, you may be the more sure of a +rising when that her Grace is killed, and that the Duke of Parma may be +in readiness to bring an army into England. It is still your intention +to kill her Grace?" + +"By God! it is!" said Anthony, between clenched teeth. + +"Then I could not absolve you, even if you came to confession. You may +be absolved from your allegiance, as we all are; but you are not +absolved from charity and justice towards Elizabeth as a woman. I have +consulted theologians on the very point; and--" + +Then Anthony sprang up. + +"See here, Robin; we must talk this out." He flicked his fingers +sharply. "See--we will talk of it as two friends." + +"You had better take back those words," said the priest gravely. + +"Why?" + +"It would be my duty to lay an information! I understood you spoke to me +as to a priest, though not in confession." + +"You would!" blazed the other. + +"I should do so in conscience," said the priest. "But you have not yet +told me as a friend, and--" + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that so long as you choose to speak to me of it, now and here, +it remains that I choose to regard it as _sub sigillo_ in effect. But +you must not come to me to-morrow, as if I knew it all in a plain way. I +do not. I know it as a priest only." + +There was silence for a moment. Then Anthony stood up. + +"I understand," he said. "But you would refuse me absolution in any +case?" + +"I could not give you absolution so long as you intended to kill her +Grace." + +Anthony made an impatient gesture. + +"See here," he said. "Let me tell you the whole matter from the +beginning. Now listen." + +He settled himself again in his chair, and began. + + * * * * * + +"Robin," he said, "you remember when I spoke to you in the inn on the +way to Matstead; it must be seven or eight years gone now? Well, that +was when the beginning was. There was no design then, such as we have +to-day; but the general purpose was there. I had spoken with man after +man; I had been to France, and seen Mr. Morgan there, Queen Mary's man, +and my lord of Glasgow; and all that I spoke with seemed of one +mind--except my lord of Glasgow, who did not say much to me on the +matter. But all at least were agreed that there would be no peace in +England so long as Elizabeth sat on the throne. + +"Well: it was after that that I fell in with Ballard, who was over here +on some other affair; and I found him a man of the same mind as myself; +he was all agog for Mary, and seemed afraid of nothing. Well; nothing +was done for a great while. He wrote to me from France; I wrote back to +him again, telling him the names of some of my friends. I went to see +him in France two or three times; and I saw him here, when you yourself +came over with him. But we did not know whom to trust. Neither had we +any special design. Her Grace of the Scots went hither and thither +under strong guards; and what I had done for her before--" + +Robin looked up. He was still quite pale and quite quiet. + +"What was that?" he said. + +Anthony again made his impatient gesture. He was fiercely excited; but +kept himself under tolerable control. + +"Why, I have been her agent for a great while back, getting her letters +through to her, and such like. But last year, when that damned Sir Amyas +Paulet became her gaoler, I could do nothing. Two or three times my +messenger was stopped, and the letters taken from him. Well; after that +time I could do no more. There her Grace was, back again at Tutbury, and +none could get near her. She might no more give alms, even, to the poor; +and all her letters must go through Walsingham's hands. And then God +helped us: she was taken last autumn to Chartley, near by which is the +house of the Giffords; and since that time we have been almost merry. Do +you know Gilbert Gifford?" + +"He hath been with the Jesuits, hath he not?" + +"That is the man. Well, Mr. Gilbert Gifford hath been God's angel to us. +A quiet, still kind of a man--you have seen him?" + +"I have spoken with him at Rheims," said Robin. "I know nothing of him." + +"Well; he contrived the plan. He hath devised a beer-barrel that hath +the beer all roundabout, so that when they push their rods in, there +seems all beer within. But in the heart of the beer there is secured a +little iron case; and within the iron case there is space for papers. +Well, this barrel goes to and fro to Chartley and to a brewer that is a +good Catholic; and within the case there are the letters. And in this +way, all has been prepared--" + +Robin looked up again. He remained quiet through all the story; and +lifted no more than his eyes. His fingers played continually with a +button on his doublet. + +"You mean that Queen Mary hath consented to this?" + +"Why, yes!" + +"To her sister's death?" + +"Why, yes!" + +"I do not believe it," said the priest quietly. "On whose word does that +stand?" + +"Why, on her own! Whose else's?" snapped Anthony. + +"You mean, you have it in her own hand, signed by her name?" + +"It is in Gifford's hand! Is not that enough? And there is her seal to +it. It is in cypher, of course. What would you have?" + +"Where is she now?" asked Robin, paying no attention to the question. + +"She hath just now been moved again to Tixall." + +"For what?" + +"I do not know. What has that to do with the matter? She will be back +soon again. I tell you all is arranged." + +"Tell me the rest of the story," said the priest. + +"There is not much more. So it stands at present. I tell you her Grace +hath been tossed to and fro like a ball at play. She was at Chatsworth, +as you know; she has been shut up in Chartley like a criminal; she was +at Babington House even. God! if I had but known it in time!" + +"In Babington House! Why, when was that?" + +"Last year, early--with Sir Ralph Sadler, who was her gaoler then!" +cried Anthony bitterly; "but for a night only.... I have sold the +house." + +"Sold it!" + +"I do not keep prisons," snapped Anthony. "I will have none of it!" + +"Well?" + +"Well," resumed the other man quietly. "I must say that when Ballard was +taken--" + +"When was that?" + +"Last week only. Well, when he was taken I thought perhaps all was +known. But I find Mr. Walsingham's conversation very comforting, though +little he knows it, poor man! He knows that I am a Catholic; and he was +lamenting to me only three days ago of the zeal of these informers. He +said he could not save Ballard, so hot was the pursuit after him; that +he would lose favour with her Grace if he did." + +"What comfort is there in that?" + +"Why; it shows plain enough that nothing is known of the true facts. If +they were after him for this design of ours do you think that Walsingham +would speak like that? He would clap us all in ward--long ago." + +The young priest was silent. His head still whirled with the tale, and +his heart was sick at the misery of it all. This was scarcely the +home-coming he had looked for! He turned abruptly to the other. + +"Anthony, lad," he said, "I beseech you to give it up." + +Anthony smiled at him frankly. His excitement was sunk down again. + +"You were always a little soft," he said. "I remember you would have +nought to do with us before. Why, we are at war, I tell you; and it is +not we who declared it! They have made war on us now for the last twenty +years and more. What of all the Catholics--priests and others--who have +died on the gibbet, or rotted in prison? If her Grace makes war upon us, +why should we not make war upon her Grace? Tell me that, then!" + +"Anthony, I beseech you to give it up. I hate the whole matter, and fear +it, too." + +"Fear it? Why, I tell you, we hold them _so_." (He stretched out his +lean, young hand, and clenched the long fingers slowly together.) "We +have them by the throat. You will be glad enough to profit by it, when +Mary reigns. What is there to fear?" + +"I do not know; I am uneasy. But that is not to the purpose. I tell you +it is forbidden by God's--" + +"Uneasy! Fear it! Why, tell me what there is to fear? What hole can you +find anywhere?" + +"I do not know. I hardly know the tale yet. But it seems to me there +might be a hundred." + +"Tell me one of them, then." + +Anthony threw himself back with an indulgent smile on his face. + +"Why, if you will have it," said Robin, roused by the contempt, "there +is one great hole in this. All hangs upon Gifford's word, as it seems to +me. You have not spoken with Mary; you have not even her own hand on +it." + +"Bah! Why, her Grace of the Scots cannot write in cypher, do you think?" + +"I do not know how that may be. It may be so. But I say that all hangs +upon Gifford." + +"And you think Gifford can be a liar and a knave!" sneered Anthony. + +"I have not one word against him," said the priest. "But neither had I +against Thomas FitzHerbert; and you know what has befallen--" + +Anthony snorted with disdain. + +"Put your finger through another hole," he said. + +"Well--I like not the comfort that Mr. Secretary Walsingham has given +you. You told me a while ago that Ballard was on the eve of going to +France. Now Walsingham is no fool. I would to God he were! He has laid +enough of our men by the heels already." + +"By God!" cried Anthony, roused again. "I would not willingly call you +a fool either, my man! But do you not understand that Walsingham +believes me as loyal as himself? Here have I been at court for the last +year, bowing before her Grace, and never a word said to me on my +religion. And here is Walsingham has bidden me to lodge in his house, in +the midst of all his spider's webs. Do you think he would do that if--" + +"I think he might have done so," said Robin slowly. + +Anthony sprang to his feet. + +"My Robin," he said, "you were right enough when you said you would not +join with us. You were not made for this work. You would see an enemy in +your own father--" + +He stopped confounded. + +Robin smiled drearily. + +"I have seen one in him," he said. + +Anthony clapped him on the shoulder, not unkindly. + +"Forgive me, my Robin. I did not think what I said. Well; we will leave +it at that. And you would not give me absolution?" + +The priest shook his head. + +"Then give me your blessing," said Anthony, dropping on his knees. "And +so we will close up the _quasi-sigillum confessionis_." + + +III + +It was a heavy-hearted priest that presently, downstairs, stood with +Anthony in one of the guest-rooms, and was made known to half a dozen +strangers. Every word that he had heard upstairs must be as if it had +never been spoken, from the instant at which Anthony had first sat down +to the instant in which he had kneeled down to receive his blessing. So +much he knew from his studies at Rheims. He must be to each man that he +met, that which he would have been to him an hour ago. Yet, though as a +man he must know nothing, his priest's heart was heavy in his breast. It +was a strange home-coming--to pass from the ordered piety of the +college: to the whirl of politics and plots in which good and evil span +round together--honest and fiery zeal for God's cause, mingled with what +he was persuaded was crime and abomination. He had thought that a +priest's life would be a simple thing, but it seemed otherwise now. + +He spoke with those half-dozen men--those who knew him well enough for a +priest; and presently, when some of his own party came, drew aside again +with Anthony, who began to tell him in a low voice of the personages +there. + +"These are all my private friends," he said, "and some of them be men of +substance in their own place. There is Mr. Charnoc, of Lancashire, he +with the gilt sword. He is of the Court of her Grace, and comes and goes +as he pleases. He is lodged in Whitehall, and comes here but to see his +friends. And there is Mr. Savage, in the new clothes, with his beard cut +short. He is a very honest fellow, but of a small substance, though of +good family enough." + +"Her Grace has some of her ladies, too, that are Catholics, has she +not?" asked Robin. + +"There are two or three at least, and no trouble made. They hear mass +when they can at the Embassies. Mendoza is a very good friend of ours." + +Mr. Charnoc came up presently to the two. He was a cheerful-looking man, +of northern descent, very particular in his clothes, with large gold +ear-rings; he wore a short, pointed beard above his stiff ruff, and his +eyes were bright and fanatical. + +"You are from Rheims, I understand, Mr. Alban." + +He sat down with something of an air next to Robin. + +"And your county--?" he asked. + +"I am from Derbyshire, sir," said Robin. + +"From Derbyshire. Then you will have heard of Mistress Marjorie Manners, +no doubt." + +"She is an old friend of mine," said Robin, smiling. (The man had a +great personal charm about him.) + +"You are very happy in your friends, then," said the other. "I have +never spoken with her myself; but I hear of her continually as assisting +our people--sending them now up into the Peak country, now into the +towns, as the case may be--and never a mistake." + + * * * * * + +It was delightful to Robin to hear her praised, and he talked of her +keenly and volubly. Exactly that had happened which five years ago he +would have thought impossible; for every trace of his old feeling +towards her was gone, leaving behind, and that only in the very deepest +intimacies of his thought, a sweet and pleasant romance, like the glow +in the sky when the sun is gone down. Little by little that had come +about which, in Marjorie, had transformed her when she first sent him to +Rheims. It was not that reaction had followed; there was no contempt, +either of her or of himself, for what he had once thought of her; but +another great passion had risen above it--a passion of which the human +lover cannot even guess, kindled for one that is greater than man; a +passion fed, trained and pruned by those six years of studious peace at +Rheims, directed by experts in humanity. There he had seen what Love +could do when it could rise higher than its human channels; he had seen +young men, scarcely older than himself, set out for England, as for +their bridals, exultant and on fire; and back to Rheims had come again +the news of their martyrdom: this one died, crying to Jesu as a +home-coming child cries to his mother at the garden-gate; this one had +said nothing upon the scaffold, but his face (they said who brought the +news) had been as the face of Stephen at his stoning; and others had +come back themselves, banished, with pain of death on their returning, +yet back once more these had gone. And, last, more than once, there had +crept back to Rheims, borne on a litter all the way from the coast, the +phantom of a man who a year or two ago had played "cat" and shouted at +the play--now a bent man, grey-haired, with great scars on wrists and +ankles.... _Te Deums_ had been sung in the college chapel when the news +of the deaths had come: there were no _requiems_ for such as these; and +the place of the martyr in the refectory was decked with flowers.... +Robin had seen these things, and wondered whether his place, too, would +some day be so decked. + +For Marjorie, then, he felt nothing but a happy friendliness, and a real +delight when he thought of seeing her again. It was glorious, he +thought, that she had done so much; that her name was in all men's +mouths. And he had thought, when he had first gone to Rheims, that he +would do all and she nothing! He had written to her then, freely and +happily. He had told her that she must give him shelter some day, as she +was doing for so many. + +Meanwhile it was pleasant to hear her praises. + +"'Eve would be Eve,'" quoted Mr. Charnoc presently, in speaking of pious +women's obstinacy, "'though Adam would say Nay.'" + + * * * * * + +Then, at last, when Mr. Charnoc said that he must be leaving for his own +lodgings, and stood up; once more upon Robin's heart there fell the +horrible memory of all that he had heard upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +It was strange to Robin to walk about the City, and to view all that he +saw from his new interior position. The last time that he had been in +his own country on that short visit with "Captain Fortescue," he had +been innocent in the eyes of the law, or, at least, no more guilty than +any one of the hundreds of young men who, in spite of the regulations, +were sent abroad to finish their education amid Catholic surroundings. +Now, however, his very presence was an offence: he had broken every law +framed expressly against such cases as his; he had studied abroad, he +had been "ordained beyond the seas"; he had read his mass in his own +bedchamber; he had, practically, received a confession; and it was his +fixed and firm intention to "reconcile" as many of "her Grace's +subjects" as possible to the "Roman See." And, to tell the truth, he +found pleasure in the sheer adventure of it, as would every young man of +spirit; and he wore his fine clothes, clinked his sword, and cocked his +secular hat with delight. + +The burden of what he had heard still was heavy on him. It was true that +in a manner inconceivable to any but a priest it lay apart altogether +from his common consciousness: he had talked freely enough to Mr. +Charnoc and the rest; he could not, even by a momentary lapse, allow +what he knew to colour even the thoughts by which he dealt with men in +ordinary life; for though it was true that no confession had been made, +yet it was in virtue of his priesthood that he had been told so much. +Yet there were moments when he walked alone, with nothing else to +distract him, when the cloud came down again; and there were moments, +too, in spite of himself, when his heart beat with another emotion, when +he pictured what might not be five years hence, if Elizabeth were taken +out of the way and Mary reigned in her stead. He knew from his father +how swiftly and enthusiastically the old Faith had come back with Mary +Tudor after the winter of Edward's reign. And if, as some estimated, a +third of England were still convincedly Catholic, and perhaps not more +than one twentieth convincedly Protestant, might not Mary Stuart, with +her charm, accomplish more even than Mary Tudor with her lack of it? + + * * * * * + +He saw many fine sights during the three or four days after his coming +to London; for he had to wait there at least that time, until a party +that was expected from the north should arrive with news of where he was +to go. These were the instructions he had had from Rheims. So he walked +freely abroad during these days to see the sights; and even ventured to +pay a visit to Fathers Garnett and Southwell, two Jesuits that arrived a +month ago, and were for the present lodging in my Lord Vaux's house in +Hackney. + +He was astonished at Father Southwell's youthfulness. + +This priest had landed but a short while before, and, for the present, +was remaining quietly in the edge of London with the older man; for +himself was scarcely twenty-five years old, and looked twenty at the +most. He was very quiet and sedate, with a face of almost feminine +delicacy, and passed a good deal of his leisure, as the old lord told +Robin, in writing verses. He appeared a strangely fine instrument for +such heavy work as was a priest's. + +On another day Robin saw the Archbishop land at Westminster Stairs. + +It was a brilliant day of sunshine as he came up the river-bank, and a +little crowd of folks at the head of the stairs drew his attention. Then +he heard, out of sight, the throb of oars grow louder; then a cry of +command; and, as he reached the head of the stairs and looked over, the +Archbishop, with a cloak thrown over his rochet, was just stepping out +of the huge gilded barge, whose blue-and-silver liveried oarsmen +steadied the vessel, or stood at the salute. It was a gay and dignified +spectacle as he perceived, in spite of his intense antipathy to the +sight of a man who, to him, was no better than an usurper and a deceiver +of the people. Dr. Whitgift, too, was no friend to Catholics: he had, +for instance, deliberately defended the use of the rack against them and +others, unashamed; and in one particular instance, at least, as Bishop +of Worcester, had directed its exercise in the county of Denbigh. These +things were perfectly known, of course, even beyond the seas, to the +priests who were to go on the English mission, in surprising detail. +Robin knew even that this man was wholly ignorant of Greek; he looked at +him carefully as he came up the stairs, and was surprised at the kindly +face of him, thin-lipped, however, though with pleasant, searching eyes. +His coach was waiting outside Old Palace Yard, and Robin, following with +the rest of the little crowd, saluted him respectfully as he climbed +into it, followed by a couple of chaplains. + +As he walked on, he glanced back across the river at Lambeth. There it +lay, then, the home of Warham and Pole and Morton, with the water +lapping its towers. It had once stood for the spiritual State of God in +England, facing its partner--(and sometimes its rival)--Westminster and +Whitehall; now it was a department of the civil State merely. It was +occupied by men such as Dr. Grindal, sequestrated and deprived of even +his spiritual functions by the woman who now grasped all the reins of +the Commonwealth; and now again by the man whom he had just seen, placed +there by the same woman to carry out her will more obediently against +all who denied her supremacy in matters spiritual as well as temporal, +whether Papists or Independents. + + * * * * * + +The priest was astonished, as he reached the precincts of Whitehall, to +observe the number of guards that were everywhere visible. He had been +warned at Rheims not to bring himself into too much notice, no more than +markedly to avoid it; so he did not attempt to penetrate even the outer +courts or passages. Yet it seemed to him that an air of watchfulness was +everywhere. At the gate towards which he looked at least half a dozen +men were on formal guard, their uniforms and weapons sparkling +brilliantly in the sunshine; and besides these, within the open doors he +caught sight of a couple of officers. As he stood there, a man came out +of one of the houses near the gate, and turned towards it: he was +immediately challenged, and presently passed on within, where one of the +officers came forward to speak to him. Then Robin thought he had stood +looking long enough, and moved away. + + * * * * * + +He came back to the City across the fields, half a mile away from the +river, and, indeed, it was a glorious sight he had before him. Here, +about him, was open ground on either side of the road on which he +walked; and there, in front, rose up on the slope of the hill the long +line of great old houses, beyond the stream that ran down into the +Thames--old Religious Houses for the most part, now disguised and pulled +about beyond recognition, ranging right and left from the Ludgate +itself: behind these rose again towers and roofs, and high above all the +tall spire of the Cathedral, as if to gather all into one, culminant +aspiration.... The light from the west lay on every surface that looked +to his left, golden and rosy; elsewhere lay blue and dusky shadows. + + +II + +"There is a letter for you, sir," said the landlord, who had an uneasy +look on his face, as the priest came through the entrance of the inn. + +Robin took it. Its superscription ran shortly: "To Mr. Alban, at the Red +Bull Inn in Cheapside. Haste. Haste. Haste." + +He turned it over; it was sealed plainly on the back without arms or any +device; it was a thick package, and appeared as if it might hold an +enclosure or two. + +Robin had learned caution in a good school, and what is yet more vital +in true caution, an appearance of carelessness. He weighed the packet +easily in his hand, as if it were of no value, though he knew it might +contain very questionable stuff from one of his friends, and glanced at +a quantity of baggage that lay heaped beside the wall. + +"What is all this?" he said. "Another party arrived?" + +"No, sir; the party is leaving. Rather, it is left already; and the +gentlemen bade me have the baggage ready here. They would send for it +later, they told me." + +This was unusually voluble from this man. Robin looked at him quickly, +and away again. + +"What party?" he said. + +"The gentlemen you were with this two nights past, sir," said the +landlord keenly. + +Robin was aware of a feeling as if a finger had been laid on his heart; +but not a muscle of his face moved. + +"Indeed!" he said. "They told me nothing of it." + +Then he moved on easily, feeling the landlord's eyes in every inch of +his back, and went leisurely upstairs. + +He reached his room, bolted the door softly behind him, and sat down. +His heart was going now like a hammer. Then he opened the packet; an +enclosure fell out of it, also sealed, but without direction of any +kind. Then he saw that the sheet in which the packet had come was itself +covered with writing, rather large and sprawling, as if written in +haste. He put the packet aside, and then lifted the paper to read it. + + * * * * * + +When he had finished, he sat quite still. The room looked to him misty +and unreal; the paper crackled in his shaking fingers, and a drop of +sweat ran suddenly into the corner of his dry lips. Then he read the +paper again. It ran as follows: + +"It is all found out, we think. I find myself watched at every point, +and I can get no speech with B. I cannot go forth from the house without +a fellow to follow me, and two of my friends have found the same. Mr. +G., too, hath been with Mr. W. this three hours back. By chance I saw +him come in, and he has not yet left again. Mr. Ch. is watching for me +while I write this, and will see that this letter is bestowed on a +trusty man who will bring it to your inn, and, with it, another letter +to bid our party save themselves while they can. I do not know how we +shall fare, but we shall meet at a point that is fixed, and after that +evade or die together. You were right, you see. Mr. G. has acted the +traitor throughout, with Mr. W.'s connivance and assistance. I beg of +you, then, to carry this letter, which I send in this, to Her for whom +we have forfeited our lives, or, at least, our country; or, if you +cannot take it with safety, master the contents of it by rote and +deliver it to her with your own mouth. She has been taken back to C. +again, whither you must go, and all her effects searched." + +There was no signature, but there followed a dash of the pen, and then a +scrawled "A.B.," as if an interruption had come, or as if the man who +was with the writer would wait no longer. + + * * * * * + +A third time Robin read it through. It was terribly easy of +interpretation. "B." was Ballard; "G." was Gifford; "W." was Walsingham; +"Ch." was Charnoc; "Her" was Mary Stuart; "C." was Chartley. It fitted +and made sense like a child's puzzle. And, if the faintest doubt could +remain in the most incredulous mind as to the horrible reality of it +all, there was the piled luggage downstairs, that would never be "sent +for" (and never, indeed, needed again by its owners in this world). + +Then he took up the second sealed packet, and held it unbroken, while +his mind flew like a bird, and in less than a minute he decided, and +opened it. + +It was a piteous letter, signed again merely "A.B.," and might have been +written by any broken-hearted reverent lover to his beloved. It spoke an +eternal good-bye; the writer said that he would lay down his life gladly +again in such a cause if it were called for, and would lay down a +thousand if he had them; he entreated her to look to herself, for that +no doubt every attempt would now be made to entrap her; and it warned +her to put no longer any confidence in a "detestable knave, G.G." +Finally, he begged that "Jesu would have her in His holy keeping," and +that if matters fell out as he thought they would, she would pray for +his soul, and the souls of all that had been with him in the enterprise. + +He read it through three or four times; every line and letter burned +itself into his brain. Then he tore it across and across; then he tore +the letter addressed to himself in the same manner; then he went through +all the fragments, piece by piece, tearing each into smaller fragments, +till there remained in his hands just a bunch of tiny scraps, smaller +than snowflakes, and these he scattered out of the window. + +Then he went to his door, unbolted it, and walked downstairs to find the +landlord. + + +III + +It was not until ten days later, soon after dawn, that Robin set out on +his melancholy errand. He rode out northward as soon as the gates were +opened, with young "Mr. Arnold," a priest ordained with him in Rheims, +and one of his party, disguised as a servant, following him on a +pack-horse with the luggage. It was a misty morning, white and +cheerless, with the early fog that had drifted up from the river. Last +night the news had come in that Anthony and at least one other had been +taken near Harrow, in disguise, and the streets had been full of riotous +rejoicing over the capture. + +He had thought it more prudent to wait till after receiving the news, +which he so much dreaded, lest haste should bring suspicion on himself, +and the message that he carried; since for him, too, to disappear at +once would have meant an almost inevitable association of him with the +party of plotters; but it had been a hard time to pass through. Early in +the morning, after Anthony's flight, he had awakened to hear a rapping +upon the inn door, and, peeping from his window, had seen a couple of +plainly dressed men waiting for admittance; but after that he had seen +no more of them. He had deliberately refrained from speaking with the +landlord, except to remark again upon the luggage of which he caught a +sight, piled no longer in the entrance, but in the little room that the +man himself used. The landlord had said shortly that it had not yet been +sent for. And the greater part of the day--after he had told the +companions that had come with him from Rheims that he had had a letter, +which seemed to show that the party with whom they had made friends had +disappeared, and were probably under suspicion, and had made the +necessary arrangements for his own departure with young Mr. Arnold--he +spent in walking abroad as usual. The days that followed had been bitter +and heavy. He had liked neither to stop within doors nor to go abroad, +since the one course might arouse inquiry and the second lead to his +identification. He had gone to my Lord Vaux's house again and again, +with his friend and without him; he had learned of the details of +Anthony's capture, though he had not dared even to attempt to get speech +with him; and, further, that unless the rest of the men were caught, it +would not be easy to prove anything against him. One thing, therefore, +he prayed for with all his heart--that the rest might yet escape. He +told his party something of the course of events, but not too much. On +the Sunday that intervened he went to hear mass in Fetter Lane, where +numbers of Catholics resorted; and there, piece by piece, learned more +of the plot than even Anthony had told him. + +Mr. Arnold was a Lancashire man and a young convert of Oxford--one of +that steady small stream that poured over to the Continent--a +sufficiently well-born and intelligent man to enjoy acting as a servant, +which he did with considerable skill. It was common enough for gentlemen +to ride side by side with their servants when they had left the town; +and by the time that the two were clear of the few scattered houses +outside the City gates, Mr. Arnold urged on his horse; and they rode +together. Robin was in somewhat of a difficulty as to how far he was +justified in speaking of what he knew. It was true that he was not at +liberty to use what Anthony had originally told him; but the letter and +the commission which he had received certainly liberated his conscience +to some degree, since it told him plainly enough that there was a plot +on behalf of Mary, that certain persons, one or two of whom he knew for +himself, were involved in it, that they were under suspicion, and that +they had fled. Ordinary discretion, however, was enough to make him hold +his tongue, beyond saying, as he had said already to the rest of them, +that he was the bearer of a message from Mr. Babington, now in prison, +to Mary Stuart. Mr. Arnold had been advertised that he might take up his +duties in Lancashire as soon as he liked; but, because of his +inexperience and youth, it had been decided that he had better ride with +"Mr. Alban" so far as Chartley at least, and thence, if all were well, +go on to Lancaster itself, where his family was known, and whither he +could return, for the present, without suspicion. + + * * * * * + +The roads, such as they were, were in a terrible state still with the +heavy rain of a few days ago, and the further showers that had fallen in +the night. They made very poor progress, and by dinner-time were not yet +in sight of Watford. But they pushed on, coming at last about one +o'clock to that little town, all gathered together in the trench of the +low hills. There was a modest inn in the main street, with a little +garden behind it; and while Mr. Arnold took the horses off for watering, +Robin went through to the garden, sat down, and ordered food to be +served for himself and his man together. The day was warmer, and the sun +came out as they sat over their meal. When they had done, Robin sent his +friend off again for the horses. They must not delay longer than was +necessary, if they wished to sleep at Leighton, and give the horses +their proper rest. + + * * * * * + +When he was left alone, he fell a-thinking once more; and, what with the +morning's ride and the air and the sunshine, and the sense of liberty, +he was inclined to be more cheerful. Surely England was large enough to +hide the rest of the plotters for a time, until they could get out of +it. Anthony was taken, indeed, yet, without the rest, he might very well +escape conviction. Robin had not been challenged in any way; the +gatekeepers had looked at him, indeed, as he came out of the City; but +so they always did, and the landlady here had run her eyes over him; but +that was the way of landladies who wished to know how much should be +charged to travellers. And if he had come out so easily, why should not +his friends? All turned now, to his mind, on whether the rest of the +conspirators could evade the pursuivants or not. + +He stood up presently to stretch his legs before mounting again, and as +he stood up he heard running footsteps somewhere beyond the house: they +died away; but then came the sound of another runner, and of another, +and he heard voices calling. Then a window was flung up beyond the +house; steps came rattling down the stairs within and passed out into +the street. It was probably a bull that had escaped, or a mad dog, he +thought, or some rustic excitement of that kind, and he thought he would +go and see it for himself; so he passed out through the house, just in +time to meet Mr. Arnold coming round with the horses. + +"What was the noise about?" he asked. + +The other looked at him. + +"I heard none, sir," he said. "I was in the stable." + +Robin looked up and down the street. It seemed as empty as it should be +on a summer's day; two or three women were at the doors of their houses, +and an old dog was asleep in the sun. There was no sign of any +disturbance. + +"Where is the woman of the house?" asked Robin. + +"I do not know, sir." + +They could not go without paying; but Robin marvelled at the simplicity +of these folks, to leave a couple of guests free to ride away; he went +within again and called out, but there was no one to be seen. + +"This is laughable," he said, coming out again. "Shall we leave a mark +behind us and be off?" + +"Are they all gone, sir?" asked the other, staring at him. + +"I heard some running and calling out just now," said Robin. "I suppose +a message must have been brought to the house." + +Then, as he stood still, hesitating, a noise of voices arose suddenly +round the corner of the street, and a group of men with pitchforks ran +out from a gateway on the other side, fifty yards away, crossed the +road, and disappeared again. Behind them ran a woman or two, a barking +dog, and a string of children. But Robin thought he had caught a glimpse +of some kind of officer's uniform at the head of the running men, and +his heart stood still. + + +IV + +Neither of the two spoke for a moment. + +"Wait here with the horses," said Robin. "I must see what all this is +about." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Arnold was scarcely more than a boy still, and he had all the desire +of a boy, if he saw an excited crowd, to join himself to it. But he was +being a servant just now, and must do what he was told. So he waited +patiently with the two horses that tossed their jingling heads and +stamped and attempted to kick flies off impossibly remote parts of their +bodies. Certainly, the excitement was growing. After he had seen his +friend walk quickly down the road and turn off where the group of +rustically-armed men had disappeared in the direction where newly-made +haystacks shaded their gables beyond the roofs of the houses, several +other figures appeared through the opposite gateway in hot pursuit. One +was certainly a guard of some kind, a stout, important-looking fellow, +who ran and wheezed as he ran loud enough to be heard at the inn door. +The women standing before the houses, too, presently were after the +rest--all except one old dame, who put her head forth, and peered this +way and that with a vindictive anger at having been left all alone. More +yet showed themselves--children dragging puppies after them, an old man +with a large rusty sword, a couple of lads each with a pike--these +appeared, like figures in a pantomime play, whisking into sight from +between the houses, and all disappearing again immediately. + +And then, all on a sudden, a great clamour of voices began, all shouting +together, as if some quarry had been sighted: it grew louder, sharp +cries of command rang above the roar. Then there burst out of the side, +where all had gone in, a ball of children, which exploded into fragments +and faced about, still with a couple of puppies that barked shrilly; and +then, walking very fast and upright, came Mr. Robin Audrey, white-faced +and stern, straight up to where the lad waited with the horses. + +Robin jerked his head. + +"Quick!" he said. "We must be off, or we shall be here all night." He +gathered up his reins for mounting. + +"What is it, sir?" asked the other, unable to be silent. + +"They have caught some fellows," he said. + +"And the inn-account, sir?" + +Robin pulled out a couple of coins from his pouch. + +"Put that on the table within," he said. "We can wait no longer. Give me +your reins!" + +His manner was so dreadful that the young man dared ask no more. He ran +in, laid the coins down (they were more than double what could have been +asked for their entertainment), came out again, and mounted his own +horse that his friend held. As they rode down the street, he could not +refrain from looking back, as a great roar of voices broke out again; +but he could see no more than a crowd of men, with the pitchforks moving +like spears on the outskirt, as if they guarded prisoners within, come +out between the houses and turn up towards the inn they themselves had +just left. + + * * * * * + +As they came clear of the village and out again upon the open road, +Robin turned to him, and his face was still pale and stern. + +"Mr. Arnold," he said, "those were the last of my friends that I told +you of. Now they have them all, and there is no longer any hope. They +found them behind the haystacks next to the garden where we dined. They +must have been there all night." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +It was in the evening of the fourth day after their start that, riding +up alongside of the Blythe, they struck out to the northwest, away from +the trees, and saw the woods of Chartley not half a mile away. Robin +sighed with relief, though, as a fact, his adventure was scarcely more +than begun, since he had yet to learn how he could get speech with the +Queen; but, at least, he was within sight of her, and of his own country +as well. Far away, eastwards, beyond the hills, not twenty miles off, +lay Derby. + + * * * * * + +It had been a melancholy ride, in spite of the air of freedom through +which they rode, since news had come to them, in more than one place, of +the fortunes of the Babington party. A courier, riding fast, had passed +them as they sighted Buckingham; and by the time they came in, he was +gone again, on Government business (it was said), and the little town +hummed with rumours, out of which emerged, at any rate, the certainty +that the whole company had been captured. At Coventry, again, the +tidings had travelled faster than themselves; for here it was reported +that Mr. Babington and Mr. Charnoc had been racked; and in Lichfield, +last of all, the tale was complete, and (as they learned later) +tolerably accurate too. + +It was from a clerk in the inn there that the story came, who declared +that there was no secrecy about the matter any longer, and that he +himself had seen the tale in writing. It ran as follows: + +The entire plot had been known from the beginning, Gilbert Gifford had +been an emissary of Walsingham's throughout; and every letter that +passed to and from the various personages had passed through the +Secretary's hands and been deciphered in his house. There never had been +one instant in which Mr. Walsingham had been at fault, or in the dark: +he had gone so far, it was reported, as to insert in one of the letters +that was to go to Mr. Babington a request for the names of all the +conspirators, and in return there had come from him, not only a list of +the names, but a pictured group of them, with Mr. Babington himself in +the midst. This picture had actually been shown to her Grace in order +that she might guard herself against private assassination, since two or +three of the group were in her own household. + +"It is like to go hard with the Scots Queen!" said the clerk bitterly. +"She has gone too far this time." + +Robin said nothing to commit himself, for he did not know on which side +the man ranged himself; but he drew him aside after dinner, and asked +whether it might be possible to get a sight of the Queen. + +"I am riding to Derby," he said, "with my man. But if to turn aside at +Chartley would give us a chance of seeing her, I would do so. A queen in +captivity is worth seeing. And I can see you are a man of influence." + +The clerk looked at him shrewdly; he was a man plainly in love with his +own importance, and the priest's last words were balm to him. + +"It might be done," he said. "I do not know." + +Robin saw the impression he had made, and that the butter could not be +too thick. + +"I am sure you could do it for me," he said, "if any man could. But I +understand that a man of your position may be unwilling--" + +The clerk solemnly laid a hand on the priest's arm. + +"Well, I will tell you this," he said. "Get speech with Mr. Bourgoign, +her apothecary. He alone has access to her now, besides her own women. +It might be he could put you in some private place to see her go by." + +This was not much use, thought Robin; but, at least, it gave him +something to begin at: so he thanked the clerk solemnly and +reverentially, and was rewarded by another discreet pat on the arm. + + * * * * * + +The sight of the Chartley woods, tall and splendid in the light of the +setting sun, and already tinged here and there with the first marks of +autumn, brought his indecision to a point; and he realized that he had +no plan. He had heard that Mary occasionally rode abroad, and he hoped +perhaps to get speech with her that way; but what he had heard from the +clerk and others showed him that this small degree of liberty was now +denied to the Queen. In some way or another he must get news of Mr. +Bourgoign. Beyond that he knew nothing. + + * * * * * + +The great gates of Chartley were closed as the two came up to them. +There was a lodge beside them, and a sentry stood there. A bell was +ringing from the great house within the woods, no doubt for supper-time, +but there was no other human being besides the sentry to be seen. So +Robin did not even check his weary horse; but turned only, with a +deliberately curious air, as he went past and rode straight on. Then, as +he rounded a corner he saw smoke going up from houses, it seemed, +outside the park. + +"What is that?" asked Arnold suddenly. "Do you hear--?" + +A sound of a galloping horse grew louder behind them, and a moment +afterwards the sound of another. The two priests were still in view of +the sentry; and knowing that Chartley was guarded now as if it had all +the treasures of the earth within, Robin reflected that to show too +little interest might arouse as sharp suspicion as too much. So he +wheeled his horse round and stopped to look. + +They heard the challenge of the sentry within, and then the unbarring of +the gates. An instant later a courier dashed out and wheeled to the +right, while at the same time the second galloper came to view--another +courier on a jaded horse; and the two passed--the one plainly riding to +London, the second arriving from it. The gates were yet open; but the +second was challenged once more before he was allowed to pass and his +hoofs sounded on the road that led to the house. Then the gates clashed +together again. + +Robin turned his horse's head once more towards the houses, conscious +more than ever how near he was to the nerves of England's life, and what +tragic ties they were between the two royal cousins, that demanded such +a furious and frequent exchange of messages. + +"We must do our best here," he said, nodding towards the little hamlet. + + +II + +It was plainly a newly-grown little group of houses that bordered the +side of the road away from the enclosed park--sprung up as a kind of +overflow lodging for the dependants necessary to such a suddenly +increased household; for the houses were no more than wooden dwellings, +ill-roofed and ill-built, with the sap scarcely yet finished oozing from +the ends of the beams and the planks. Smoke was issuing, in most cases, +from rough holes cut in the roofs, and in the last rays of sunshine two +or three men were sitting on stools set out before the houses. + +Robin checked his horse before a man whose face seemed kindly, and who +saluted courteously the fine gentleman who looked about with such an +air. + +"My horse is dead-spent," he said curtly. "Is there an inn here where my +man and I can find lodging?" + +The man shook his head, looking at the horse compassionately. He had the +air of a groom about him. + +"I fear not, sir, not within five miles; at least, not with a room to +spare." + +"This is Chartley, is it not?" asked the priest, noticing that the next +man, too, was listening. + +"Aye, sir." + +"Can you tell me if my friend Mr. Bourgoign lodges in the house, or +without the gates?" + +"Mr. Bourgoign, sir? A friend of yours?" + +"I hope so," said Robin, smiling, and keeping at least within the letter +of truth. + +The man mused a moment. + +"It is possible he might help you, sir. He lodges in the house; but he +comes sometimes to see a woman that is sick here." + +Robin demanded where she lived. + +"At the last house, sir--a little beyond the rest. She is one of her +Grace's kitchen-women. They moved her out here, thinking it might be the +fever she had." + +This was plainly a communicative fellow; but the priest thought it wiser +not to take too much interest. He tossed the man a coin and rode on. + + * * * * * + +The last house was a little better built than the others, and stood +further back from the road. Robin dismounted here, and, with a nod to +Mr. Arnold, who was keeping his countenance admirably, walked up to the +door and knocked on it. It was opened instantly, as if he were expected, +but the woman's face fell when she saw him. + +"Is Mr. Bourgoign within?" asked the priest. + +The woman glanced over him before answering, and then out to where the +horses waited. + +"No, sir," she said at last. "We were looking for him just now...." +(She broke off.) "He is coming now," she said. + +Robin turned, and there, walking down the road, was an old man, leaning +on a stick, richly and soberly dressed in black, wearing a black beaver +hat on his head. A man-servant followed him at a little distance. + +The priest saw that here was an opportunity ready-made; but there was +one more point on which he must satisfy himself first, and what seemed +to him an inspiration came to his mind. + +"He looks like a minister," he said carelessly. + +A curious veiled look came over the woman's face. Robin made a bold +venture. He smiled full in her face. + +"You need not fear," he said. "I quarrel with no man's religion;" and, +at the look in her face at this, he added: "You are a Catholic, I +suppose? Well, I am one too. And so, I suppose, is Mr. Bourgoign." + +The woman smiled tremulously, and the fear left her eyes. + +"Yes, sir," she said. "All the friends of her Grace are Catholics, I +think." + +He nodded to her again genially. Then, turning, he went to meet the +apothecary, who was now not thirty yards away. + + * * * * * + +It was a pathetic old figure that was hobbling towards him. He seemed a +man of near seventy years old, with a close-cropped beard and spectacles +on his nose, and he carried himself heavily and ploddingly. Robin argued +to himself that it must be a kindly man who would come out at this +hour--perhaps the one hour he had to himself--to visit a poor dependant. +Yet all this was sheer conjecture; and, as the old man came near, he saw +there was something besides kindliness in the eyes that met his own. + +He saluted boldly and deferentially. + +"Mr. Bourgoign," he said in a low voice, "I must speak five minutes with +you. And I ask you to make as if you were my friend." + +The old man stiffened like a watch-dog. It was plain that he was on his +guard. + +"I do not know you, sir." + +"I entreat you to do as I ask. I am a priest, sir. I entreat you to take +my hand as if we were friends." + +A look of surprise went over the physician's face. + +"You can send me packing in ten minutes," went on Robin rapidly, at the +same time holding out his hand. "And we will talk here in the road, if +you will." + +There was still a moment's hesitation. Then he took the priest's hand. + +"I am come straight from London," went on Robin, still speaking clearly, +yet with his lips scarcely moving. "A fortnight ago I talked with Mr. +Babington." + +The old man drew his arm close within his own. + +"You have said enough, or too much, at present, sir. You shall walk with +me a hundred yards up this road, and justify what you have said." + +"We have had a weary ride of it, Mr. Bourgoign.... I am on the road to +Derby," went on Robin, talking loudly enough now to be overheard, as he +hoped, by any listeners. "And my horse is spent.... I will tell you my +business," he added in a lower tone, "as soon as you bid me." + +Fifty yards up the road the old man pressed his arm again. + +"You can tell me now, sir," he said. "But we will walk, if you please, +while you do so." + + * * * * * + +"First," said Robin, after a moment's consideration as to his best +beginning, "I will tell you the name I go by. It is Mr. Alban. I am a +newly-made priest, as I told you just now; I came from Rheims scarcely a +fortnight ago. I am from Derbyshire; and I will tell you my proper name +at the end, if you wish it." + +"Repeat the blessing of the deacon by the priest at mass," murmured Mr. +Bourgoign to the amazement of the other, without the change of an +inflection in his voice or a movement of his hand. + +"_Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis_--" began the priest. + +"That is enough, sir, for the present. Well?" + +"Next," said Robin, hardly yet recovered from the extraordinary +promptness of the challenge--"Next, I was speaking with Mr. Babington a +fortnight ago." + +"In what place?" + +"In the inn called the 'Red Bull,' in Cheapside." + +"Good. I have lodged there myself," said the other. "And you are one--" + +"No, sir," said Robin, "I do not deny that I spoke with them all--with +Mr. Charnoc and--" + +"That is enough of those names, sir," said the other, with a small and +fearful lift of his white eyebrows, as if he dreaded the very trees that +nearly met overhead in this place. "And what is your business?" + +"I have satisfied you, then--" began Robin. + +"Not at all, sir. You have answered sufficiently so far; that is all. I +wish to know your business." + +"The night following the day on which the men fled, of whom I have just +spoken, I had a letter from--from their leader. He told me that all was +lost, and he gave me a letter to her Grace here--" + +He felt the thin old sinews under his hand contract suddenly, and +paused. + +"Go on, sir," whispered the old voice. + +"A letter to her Grace, sir. I was to use my discretion whether I +carried it with me, or learned it by rote. I have other interests at +stake besides this, and I used my discretion, and destroyed the letter." + +"But you have some writing, no doubt--" + +"I have none," said Robin. "I have my word only." + +There was a pause. + +"Was the message private?" + +"Private only to her Grace's enemies. I will tell you the substance of +it now, if you will." + +The old man, without answering, steered his companion nearer to the +wall; then he relinquished the supporting arm, and leaned himself +against the stones, fixing his eyes full upon the priest, and searching, +as it seemed, every feature of his face and every detail of his dress. + +"Was the message important, sir?" + +"Important only to those who value love and fidelity." + +"I could deliver it myself, then?" + +"Certainly, sir. If you will give me your word to deliver it to her +Grace, as I deliver it to you, and to none else, I will ride on and +trouble you no more." + +"That is enough," said the physician decidedly. "I am completely +satisfied, Mr. Alban. All that remains is to consider how I can get you +to her Grace." + +"But if you yourself will deliver--" began Robin. + +An extraordinary spasm passed over the other's face, that might denote +any fierce emotion, either of anger or grief. + +"Do you think it is that?" he hissed. "Why, man, where is your +priesthood? Do you think the poor dame within would not give her soul +for a priest?... Why, I have prayed God night and day to send us a +priest. She is half mad with sorrow; and who knows whether ever again in +this world--" + +He broke off, his face all distorted with pain; and Robin felt a strange +thrill of glory at the thought that he bore with him, in virtue of his +priesthood only, so much consolation. He faced for the first time that +tremendous call of which he had heard so much in Rheims--that desolate +cry of souls that longed and longed in vain for those gifts which a +priest of Christ could alone bestow.... + +"... The question is," the old man was saying more quietly, "how to get +you in to her Grace. Why, Sir Amyas opens her letters even, and reseals +them again! He thinks me a fool, and that I do not know what he does.... +Do you know aught of medicine?" he asked abruptly. + +"I know only what country folks know of herbs." + +"And their names--their Latin names, man?" pursued the other, leaning +forward. + +Robin half smiled. + +"Now you speak of it," he said, "I have learned a good many, as a +pastime, when I was a boy. I was something of a herbalist, even. But I +have forgotten--" + +"Bah! that would be enough for Sir Amyas--" + +He turned and spat venomously at the name. + +"Sir Amyas knows nothing save his own vile trade. He is a lout--no more. +He is as grim as a goose, always. And you have a town air about you," he +went on, running his eyes critically over the young man's dress. "Those +are French clothes?" + +"They were bought in France." + +The two stood silent. Robin's excitement beat in all his veins, in spite +of his weariness. He had come to bear a human message only to a +bereaved Queen; and it seemed as if his work were to be rather the +bearing of a Divine message to a lonely soul. He watched the old man's +face eagerly. It was sunk in thought.... Then Mr. Bourgoign took him +abruptly by the arm. + +"Give me your arm again," he said. "I am an old man. We must be going +back again. It seems as if God heard our prayers after all. I will see +you disposed for to-night--you and your man and the horses, and I will +send for you myself in the morning. Could you say mass, think you? if I +found you a secure place--and bring Our Lord's Body with you in the +morning?" + +He checked the young man, to hear his answer. + +"Why, yes," said Robin. "I have all things that are needed." + +"Then you shall say mass in any case ... and reserve our Lord's Body in +a pyx.... Now listen to me. If my plan falls as I hope, you must be a +physician to-morrow, and have practised your trade in Paris. You have +been in Paris?" + +"No, sir." + +"Bah!... Well, no more has Sir Amyas!... You have practised your trade +in Paris, and God has given you great skill in the matter of herbs. And, +upon hearing that I was in Chartley, you inquired for your old friend, +whose acquaintance you had made in Paris, five years ago. And I, upon +hearing you were come, secured your willingness to see my patient, if +you would but consent. Your reputation has reached me even here; you +have attended His Majesty in Paris on three occasions; you restored +Mademoiselle Elise, of the family of Guise, from the very point of +death. You are but a young man still; yet--Bah! It is arranged. You +understand? Now come with me." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +In spite of his plans and his hopes and his dreams, it was with an +amazement beyond all telling, that Mr. Robert Alban found himself, at +nine o'clock next morning, conducted by two men through the hall at +Chartley to the little parlour where he was to await Sir Amyas Paulet +and the Queen's apothecary. + + * * * * * + +Matters had been arranged last night with that promptness which alone +could make the tale possible. He had walked back with the old man in +full view of the little hamlet, to all appearances, the best of old +friends; and after providing for a room in the sick woman's house for +Robin himself, another in another house for Mr. Arnold, and stabling for +the horses in a shed where occasionally the spent horses of the couriers +were housed when Chartley stables were overflowing--after all this had +been arranged by Mr. Bourgoign in person, the two walked on to the great +gates of the park, where they took an affectionate farewell within +hearing of the sentry, the apothecary promising to see Sir Amyas that +night and to communicate with his friend in the morning. Robin had +learned previously how strict was the watch set about the Queen's +person, particularly since the news of the Babington plot had first +reached the authorities, and of the extraordinary difficulty to the +approach of any stranger to her presence. Nau and Curle, her two +secretaries, had been arrested and perhaps racked a week or ten days +before; all the Queen's papers had been taken from her, and even her +jewellery and pictures sent off to Elizabeth; and the only persons +ordinarily allowed to speak with her, besides her gaoler, were two of +her women, and Mr. Bourgoign himself. + +That morning then, before six o'clock, Robin had said mass in the sick +woman's room and given her communion, with her companion, who answered +his mass, as it was thought more prudent that the other priest should +not even be present; and, at the close of the mass he had reserved in a +little pyx, hidden beneath his clothes, a consecrated particle. Mr. +Bourgoign had said that he would see to it that the Queen should be +fasting up to ten o'clock that day. + +And now the last miracle had been accomplished. A servant had come down +late the night before, with a discreet letter from the apothecary, +saying that Sir Amyas had consented to receive and examine for himself +the travelling physician from Paris; and here now went Robin, striving +to remember the old Latin names he had learned as a boy, and to carry a +medical air with him. + + * * * * * + +The parlour in which he found himself was furnished severely and even +rather sparely, owing, perhaps, he thought, to the temporary nature of +the household. It was the custom in great houses to carry with the +family, from house to house, all luxuries such as extra hangings or +painted pictures or carpets, as well as even such things as cooking +utensils; and in the Queen's sudden removal back again from Tixall, many +matters must have been neglected. The oak wainscoting was completely +bare; and over the upper parts of the walls in many places the stones +showed through between the ill-fitting tapestries. A sheaf of pikes +stood in one corner; an oil portrait of an unknown worthy in the dress +of fifty years ago hung over one of the doors; a large round oak table, +with ink-horn and pounce-box, stood in the centre of the room with +stools beside it: there was no hearth or chimney visible; and there was +no tapestry upon the floor: a skin only lay between the windows. The +priest sat down and waited. + +He had enough to occupy his mind; for not only had he the thought of the +character he was to sustain presently under the scrutiny of a suspicious +man; but he had the prospect, as he hoped, of coming into the presence +of the most-talked-of woman in Europe, and of ministering to her as a +priest alone could do, in her sorest need. His hand went to his breast +as he considered it, and remembered What he bore ... and he felt the +tiny flat circular case press upon his heart.... + +For his imagination was all aflame at the thought of Mary. Not only had +he been kindled again and again in the old days by poor Anthony's talk, +until the woman seemed to him half-deified already; but man after man +had repeated the same tale, that she was, in truth, that which her lean +cousin of England desired to be thought--a very paragon of women, +innocent, holy, undefiled, yet of charm to drive men to their knees +before her presence. It was said that she was as one of those strange +moths which, confined behind glass, will draw their mates out of the +darkness to beat themselves to death against her prison; she was +exquisite, they said, in her pale beauty, and yet more exquisite in her +pain; she exuded a faint and intoxicating perfume of womanliness, like a +crushed herb. Yet she was to be worshipped, rather than loved--a +sacrament to be approached kneeling, an incarnate breath of heaven, the +more lovely from the vileness into which her life had been cast and the +slanders that were about her name.... More marvellous than all was that +those who knew her best and longest loved her most; her servants wept or +groaned themselves into fevers if they were excluded from her too long; +of her as of the Wisdom of old might it be said that, "They who ate her +hungered yet, and they who drank her thirsted yet."... It was to this +miracle of humanity, then, that this priest was to come.... + + * * * * * + +He sat up suddenly, once more pressing his hand to his breast, where his +Treasure lay hidden, as he heard steps crossing the paved hall outside. +Then he rose to his feet and bowed as a tall man came swiftly in, +followed by the apothecary. + + +II + +It was a lean, harsh-faced man that he saw, long-moustached and +melancholy-eyed--"grim as a goose," as the physician had said--wearing, +even in this guarded household, a half-breast and cap of steel. A long +sword jingled beside him on the stone floor and clashed with his spurred +boots. He appeared the last man in the world to be the companion of a +sorrowing Queen; and it was precisely for this reason that he had been +chosen to replace the courtly lord Shrewsbury and the gentle Sir Ralph +Sadler. (Her Grace of England said that she had had enough of nurses for +gaolers.) His voice, too, resembled the bitter clash of a key in a lock. + +"Well, sir," he said abruptly, "Mr. Bourgoign tells me you are a friend +of his." + +"I have that honour, sir." + +"You met in Paris, eh?... And you profess a knowledge of herbs beyond +the ordinary?" + +"Mr. Bourgoign is good enough to say so." + +"And you are after her Grace of Scotland, as they call her, like all the +rest of them, eh?" + +"I shall be happy to put what art I possess at her Grace of Scotland's +service." + +"Traitors say as much as that, sir." + +"In the cause of treachery, no doubt, sir." + +Sir Amyas barked a kind of laugh. + +"_Vous avez raisong_," he said with a deplorable accent. "As her Grace +would say. And you come purely by chance to Chartley, no doubt!" + +The sneer was unmistakable. Robin met it full. + +"Not for one moment, sir. I was on my way to Derby. I could have saved a +few miles if I had struck north long ago. But Chartley is interesting in +these days." + +(He saw Mr. Bourgoign's eyes gleam with satisfaction.) + +"That is honest at least, sir. And why is Chartley interesting?" + +"Because her Grace is here," answered Robin with sublime simplicity. + +Sir Amyas barked again. It seemed he liked this way of talk. For a +moment or two his eyes searched Robin--hard, narrow eyes like a dog's; +he looked him up and down. + +"Where are your drugs, sir?" + +Robin smiled. + +"A herbalist does not need to carry drugs," he said. "They grow in every +hedgerow if a man has eyes to see what God has given him." + +"That is true enough. I would we had more talk about God His Majesty in +this household, and less of Popish trinkets and fiddle-faddle.... Well, +sir; do you think you can cure her ladyship?" + +"I have no opinion on the point at all, sir. I do not know what is the +matter with her--beyond what Mr. Bourgoign has told me," he added +hastily, remembering the supposed situation. + +The soldier paid no attention. Like all slow-witted men, he was +following up an irrelevant train of thought from his own last sentence +but one. + +"Fiddle-faddle!" he said again. "I am sick of her megrims and her +vapours and her humours. Has she not blood and bones like the rest of +us? And yet she cannot take her food nor her drink, nor sleep like an +honest woman. And I do not wonder at it; for that is what she is not. +They will say she is poisoned, I dare say.... Well, sir; I suppose you +had best see her; but in my presence, remember, sir; in my presence." + +Robin's spirits sank like a stone.... Moreover, he would be instantly +detected as a knave (though that honestly seemed a lesser matter to +him), if he attempted to talk medically in Sir Amyas' presence; unless +that warrior was truly as great a clod as he seemed. He determined to +risk it. He bowed. + +"I can at least try my poor skill, sir," he said. + +Sir Amyas instantly turned, with a jerk of his head to beckon them, and +clanked out again into the hall. There was not a moment's opportunity +for the two conspirators to exchange even a word; for there, in the +hall, stood the two men who had brought Robin in, to keep guard; and as +the party passed through to the foot of the great staircase, he saw on +each landing that was in sight another sentry, and, at a door at the end +of the overhead gallery, against which hung a heavy velvet curtain, +stood the last, a stern figure to keep guard on the rooms of a Queen, +with his body-armour complete, a steel hat on his head and a pike in his +hand. + +It was to this door that Sir Amyas went, acknowledging with a lift of +the finger the salute of his men. (It was plain that this place was +under strict military discipline.) With the two, the real and the false +physician following him, he pulled aside the curtain and rapped +imperiously on the door. It was opened after a moment's delay by a +frightened-faced woman. + +"Her Grace?" demanded the officer sharply. "Is she still abed?" + +"Her Grace is risen, sir," said the woman tremulously; "she is in the +inner room." + +Sir Amyas strode straight on, pulled aside a second curtain hanging over +the further door, rapped upon that, too, and without even waiting for an +answer this time, beyond the shrill barking of dogs within, opened it +and passed in. Mr. Bourgoign followed; and Robin came last. The door +closed softly behind him. + + +III + +The room was furnished with more decency than any he had seen in this +harsh house; for, although at the time he thought that he had no eyes +for anything but one figure which it contained, he found himself +afterwards able to give a very tolerable account of its general +appearance. The walls were hung throughout with a dark-blue velvet +hanging, stamped with silver fleur-de-lys. There were tapestries on the +floor, between which gleamed the polished oak boards, perfectly kept, by +the labours (no doubt) of her Grace's two women (since such things would +be mere "fiddle-faddle" to the honest soldier); a graceful French table +ran down the centre of the room, very delicately carved, and beneath it +two baskets from which looked out the indignant heads of a couple of +little spaniels; upon it, at the nearer end, were three or four cages of +turtle-doves, melancholy-looking in this half-lit room; old, +sun-bleached curtains of the same material as that which hung on the +walls, shrouded the two windows on the right, letting but a half light +into the room: there was a further door, also curtained, diagonally +opposite that by which the party had entered; and in the centre of the +same wall a tall blue canopy, fringed with silver, rose to the ceiling. +Beneath it, on a dais of a single step, stood a velvet chair, with +gilded arms, and worked with the royal shield in the embroidery of the +back--with a crowned lion _sejant, guardant_, for the crest above the +crown. Half a dozen more chairs were ranged about the table; and, on a +couch, with her feet swathed in draperies, with a woman standing over +her behind, as if she had just risen up from speaking in her ear, lay +the Queen of the Scots. A tall silver and ebony crucifix, with a couple +of velvet-bound, silver-clasped little books, stood on the table within +reach of her hand, and a folded handkerchief beside them. + +Mary was past her prime long ago; she was worn with sorrow and slanders +and miseries; yet she appeared to the priest's eyes, even then, like a +figure of a dream. It was partly, no doubt, the faintness of the light +that came in through the half-shrouded windows that obliterated the +lines and fallen patches that her face was beginning to bear; and she +lay, too, with her back even to such light as there was. Yet for all +that, and even if he had not known who she was, Robin could not have +taken his eyes from her face. She lay there like a fallen flower, pale +as a lily, beaten down at last by the waves and storms that had gone +over her; and she was more beautiful in her downfall and disgrace, a +thousand times, than when she had come first to Holyrood, or danced in +the Courts of France. + +Now it is not in the features one by one that beauty lies but rather in +the coincidence of them all. Her face was almost waxen now, blue +shadowed beneath the two waves of pale hair; she had a small mouth, a +delicate nose, and large, searching hazel eyes. Her head-dress was of +white, with silver pins in it; a light white shawl was clasped +cross-wise over her shoulders; and she wore a loose brocaded +dressing-gown beneath it. Her hands, clasped as if in prayer, emerged +out of deep lace-fringed sleeves, and were covered with rings. But it +was the air of almost superhuman delicacy that breathed from her most +forcibly; and, when she spoke, a ring of assured decision revealed her +quiet consciousness of royalty. It was an extraordinary mingling of +fragility and power, of which this feminine and royal room was the +proper frame. + +Sir Amyas knelt perfunctorily, as if impatient of it; and rose up again +at once without waiting for the signal. Mary lifted her fingers a little +as a sign to the other two. + +"I have brought the French doctor, madam," said the soldier abruptly. +"But he must see your Grace in my presence." + +"Then you might as well have spared him, and yourself, the pains, sir," +came the quiet, dignified voice. "I do not choose to be examined in your +presence." + +Robin lifted his eyes to her face; but although he thought he caught an +under air of intense desire towards him and That which he bore, there +was no faltering in the tone of her voice. It was, as some man said, as +"soft as running water heard by night." + +"This is absurd, madam. I am responsible for your Grace's security and +good health. But there are lengths--" + +"You have spoken the very word," said the Queen. "There are lengths to +which none of us should go, even to preserve our health." + +"I tell you, madam--" + +"There is no more to be said, sir," said the Queen, closing her eyes +again. + +"But what do I know of this fellow? How can I tell he is what he +professes to be?" barked Sir Amyas. + +"Then you should never have admitted him at all," said the Queen, +opening her eyes again. "And I will do the best that I can--" + +"But, madam, your health is my care; and Mr. Bourgoign here tells me--" + +"The subject does not interest me," murmured the Queen, apparently half +asleep. + +"But I will retire to the corner and turn my back, if that is +necessary," growled the soldier. + +There was no answer. She lay with closed eyes, and her woman began again +to fan her gently. + + * * * * * + +Robin began to understand the situation a little better. It was plain +that Sir Amyas was a great deal more anxious for the Queen's health than +he pretended to be, or he would never have tolerated such objections. +The Queen, too, must know of this, or she would not have ventured, with +so much at stake, to treat him with such maddening rebuffs. There had +been rumours (verified later) that Elizabeth had actually caused it to +be suggested to Sir Amyas that he should poison his prisoner decently +and privately, and thereby save a great deal of trouble and scandal; and +that Sir Amyas had refused with indignation. Perhaps, if all this were +true, thought Robin, the officer was especially careful on this very +account that the Queen's health should be above suspicion. He remembered +that Sir Amyas had referred just now to a suspicion of poison.... He +determined on the bold line. + +"Her Grace has spoken, sir," he said modestly. "And I think I should +have a word to say. It is plain to me, by looking at her Grace, that her +health is very far from what it should be--" (he paused +significantly)--"I should have to make a thorough examination, if I +prescribed at all; and, even should her Grace consent to this being done +publicly, for my part I would not consent. I should be happy to have her +women here, but--" + +Sir Amyas turned on him wrathfully. + +"Why, sir, you said downstairs--" + +"I had not then seen her Grace. But there is no more to be said--" He +kneeled again as if to take his leave, stood up, and began to retire to +the door. Mr. Bourgoign stood helpless. + +Then Sir Amyas yielded. + +"You shall have fifteen minutes, sir. No more," he cried harshly. "And I +shall remain in the next room." + +He made a perfunctory salute and strode out. + +The Queen opened her eyes, waited for one tense instant till the door +closed; then she slipped swiftly off the couch. + +"The door!" she whispered. + +The woman was across the room in an instant, on tip-toe, and drew the +single slender bolt. The Queen made a sharp gesture; the woman fled back +again on one side, and out through the further door, and the old man +hobbled after her. It was as if every detail had been rehearsed. The +door closed noiselessly. + +Then the Queen rose up, as Robin, understanding, began to fumble with +his breast. And, as he drew out the pyx, and placed it on the +handkerchief (in reality a corporal), apparently so carelessly laid by +the crucifix, Mary sank down in adoration of her Lord. + +"Now, _mon pere_," she whispered, still kneeling, but lifting her +star-bright eyes. And the priest went across to the couch where the +Queen had lain, and sat down on it. + +"_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_--" began Mary. + + +IV + +When the confession was finished, Robin went across, at the Queen's +order, and tapped with his finger-nail upon the door, while she herself +remained on her knees. The door opened instantly, and the two came in, +the woman first, bearing two lighted tapers. She set these down one on +either side of the crucifix, and herself knelt with the old physician. + +... Then Robin gave holy communion to the Queen of the Scots.... + + +V + +She was back again on her couch now, once more as drowsy-looking as +ever. The candlesticks were gone again; the handkerchief still in its +place, and the woman back again behind the couch. The two men kneeled +close beside her, near enough to hear every whisper. + +"Listen, gentlemen," she said softly, "I cannot tell you what you have +done for my soul to-day--both of you, since I could never have had the +priest without my friend.... I cannot reward you, but our Lord will do +so abundantly.... Listen, I know that I am going to my death, and I +thank God that I have made my peace with Him. I do not know if they will +allow me to see a priest again. But I wish to say this to both of +you--as I said just now in my confession, to you, _mon pere_--that I am +wholly and utterly guiltless of the plot laid to my charge; that I had +neither part nor wish nor consent in it. I desired only to escape from +my captivity.... I would have made war, if I could, yes, but as for +accomplishing or assisting in her Grace's death, the thought was never +near me. Those whom I thought my friends have entrapped me, and have +given colour to the tale. I pray our Saviour to forgive them as I do; +and with that Saviour now in my breast I tell you--and you may tell all +the world if you will--that I am guiltless of what they impute to me. I +shall die for my Religion, and nothing but that. And I thank you again, +_mon pere, et vous, mon ami, que vous avez_...." + +Her voice died away in inaudible French, and her eyes closed. + + * * * * * + +Robin's eyes were raining tears, but he leaned forward and kissed her +hand as it lay on the edge of the couch. He felt himself touched on the +shoulder, and he stood up. The old man's eyes, too, were brimming with +tears. + +"I must let Sir Amyas in," he whispered. "You must be ready." + +"What shall I say?" + +"Say that you will prescribe privately, to me: and that her Grace's +health is indeed delicate, but not gravely impaired.... You understand?" + +Robin nodded, passing his sleeve over his eyes. The woman touched the +Queen's shoulder to rouse her, and Mr. Bourgoign opened the door. + + +VI + +"And now, sir," said Mr. Bourgoign, as the two passed out from the house +half an hour later, "I have one more word to say to you. Listen +carefully, if you please, for there is not much time." + +He glanced behind him, but the tall figure was gone from the door; there +remained only the two pikemen that kept ward over the great house on the +steps. + +"Come this way," said the physician, and led the priest through into the +little walled garden on the south. "He will think we are finishing our +consultation." + + * * * * * + +"I cannot tell you," he said presently, "all that I think of your +courage and your wit. You made a bold stroke when you told him you would +begone again, unless you could see her Grace alone, and again when you +said you had come to Chartley because she was here. And you may go +again now, knowing you have comforted a woman in her greatest need. They +sent her chaplain from her when she left here for Tixall in July, and +she has not had him again yet. She is watched at every point. They have +taken all her papers from her, and have seduced M. Nau, I fear. Did you +hear anything of him in town?" + +"No," said the priest. "I know nothing of him." + +"He is a Frenchman, and hath been with her Grace more than ten years. He +hath written her letters for her, and been privy to all her counsels. +And I fear he hath been seduced from her at last. It was said that Mr. +Walsingham was to take him into his house.... Well, but we have not time +for this. What I have to ask you is whether you could come again to us?" + +He peered at the priest almost timorously. Robin was startled. + +"Come again?" he said. "Why--" + +"You see you have already won to her presence, and Sir Amyas is +committed to it that you are a safe man. I shall tell her Grace, too, +that she must eat and drink well, and get better, if she would see you +again, for that will establish you in Sir Amyas' eyes." + +"But will she not have a priest?" + +"I know nothing, Mr. Alban. They even shut me up here when they took her +to Tixall; and even now none but myself and her two women have access to +her. I do not know even if her Grace will be left here. There has been +talk among the men of going to Fotheringay. I know nothing, from day to +day. It is a ... a _cauchemar_. But they will certainly do what they can +to shake her. It grows more rigorous every day. And I thought, that if +you would tell me whether a message could reach you, and if her chaplain +is not allowed to see her again, you might be able to come again. I +would tell Sir Amyas how much good you had done to her last time, with +your herbs; and, it might be, you could see her again in a month or two +perhaps--or later." + +Robin was silent. + +The greatness of the affair terrified him; yet its melancholy drew him. +He had seen her on whom all England bent its thoughts at this time, who +was a crowned Queen, with broad lands and wealth, who called Elizabeth +"sister"; yet who was more of a prisoner than any in the Fleet or +Westminster Gatehouse, since those at least could have their friends to +come to them. Her hidden fires, too, had warmed him--that passion for +God that had burst from her when her gaoler left her, and she had flung +herself on her knees before her hidden Saviour. It may be he had doubted +her before (he did not know); but there was no more doubt in him after +her protestation of her innocence. He began to see now that she stood +for more than her kingdom or her son or the plots attributed to her, +that she was more than a mere great woman, for whose sake men could both +live and die; he began to see in her that which poor Anthony had seen--a +champion for the Faith of them all, an incarnate suffering symbol, in +flesh and blood, of that Religion for which he, too, was in peril--that +Religion, which, in spite of all clamour to the contrary, was the real +storm-centre of England's life. + +He turned then to the old man with a suddenly flushed face. + +"A message will always reach me at Mistress Manners' house, at Booth's +Edge, near Hathersage, in Derbyshire. And I will come from there, or +from the world's end, to serve her Grace." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +"First give me your blessing, Mr. Alban," said Marjorie, kneeling down +before him in the hall in front of them all. She was as pale as a ghost, +but her eyes shone like stars. + + * * * * * + +It was a couple of months after his leaving Chartley before he came at +last to Booth's Edge. First he had had to bestow Mr. Arnold in +Lancashire, for suspicion was abroad; and it was a letter from Marjorie +herself, reaching him in Derby, at Mr. Biddell's house, that had told +him of it, and bidden him go on with his friend. The town had never been +the same since Topcliffe's visit; and now that Babington House was no +longer in safe Catholic hands, a great protection was gone. He had +better go on, she said, as if he were what he professed to be--a +gentleman travelling with his servant. A rumour had come to her ears +that the talk in the town was of the expected arrival of a new priest to +take Mr. Garlick's place for the present, and every stranger was +scrutinised. So he had taken her advice; he had left Derby again +immediately, and had slowly travelled north; then, coming round about +from the north, after leaving his friend, saying mass here and there +where he could, crossing into Yorkshire even as far west as Wakefield, +he had come at last, through this wet November day, along the Derwent +valley and up to Booth's Edge, where he arrived after sunset, to find +the hall filled with folks to greet him. + +He was smiling himself, though his eyes were full of tears, by the time +that he had done giving his blessings. Mr. John FitzHerbert was come up +from Padley, where he lived now for short times together, greyer than +ever, but with the same resolute face. Mistress Alice Babington was +there, still serene looking, but with a new sorrow in her eyes; and, +clinging to her, a thin, pale girl all in black, who only two months +before had lost both daughter and husband; for the child had died +scarcely a week or two before her father, Anthony Babington, had died +miserably on the gallows near St. Giles' Fields, where he had so often +met his friends after dark. It was a ghastly tale, told in fragments to +Robin here and there during his journeyings by men in taverns, before +whom he must keep a brave face. And a few farmers were there, old Mr. +Merton among them, come in to welcome the son of the Squire of Matstead, +returned under a feigned name, unknown even to his father, and there, +too, was honest Dick Sampson, come up from Dethick to see his old +master. So here, in the hall he knew so well, himself splashed with red +marl from ankle to shoulder, still cloaked and spurred, one by one these +knelt before him, beginning with Marjorie herself, and ending with the +youngest farm-boy, who breathed heavily as he knelt down and got up +round-eyed and staring. + +"And his Reverence will hear confessions," proclaimed Marjorie to the +multitude, "at eight o'clock to-night; and he will say mass and give +holy communion at six o'clock to-morrow morning." + + +II + +He had to hear that night, after supper, and before he went to keep his +engagement in the chapel-room, the entire news of the county; and, in +his turn, to tell his own adventures. The company sat together before +the great hall-fire, to take the dessert, since there would have been no +room in the parlour for all who wished to hear. (He heard the tale of +Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert, traitor, apostate and sworn man of her Grace, +later, when he had come down again from the chapel-room, and the +servants had gone.) But now it was of less tragic matters, and more +triumphant, that they talked: he told of his adventures since he had +landed in August; of his riding in Lancashire and Yorkshire, and of the +fervour that he met with there (in one place, he said, he had reconciled +the old minister of the parish, that had been made priest under Mary +thirty years ago, and now lay dying); but he said nothing at that time +of what he had seen of her Grace of Scotland, and Chartley: and the +rest, on the other hand, talked of what had passed in Derby, of all that +Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Garlick had done; of the arrest and banishment of the +latter, and his immediate return; of the hanging of Mr. Francis Ingolby, +in York, which had made a great stir in the north that summer, since he +was the son of Sir Francis, of Ripley Castle; as well as of the deaths +of many others--Mr. Finglow in August; Mr. Sandys, in the same month, in +Gloucester; and of Mr. Lowe, Mr. Adams and Mr. Dibdale, all together at +Tyburn, the news of which had but just come to Derbyshire; and of +Mistress Clitheroe, that had been pressed to death in York, for the very +crime which Mistress Marjorie Manners was perpetrating at this moment, +namely, the assistance and harbourage of priests; or, rather, for +refusing to plead when she had been arrested for that crime, lest she +should bring them into trouble. + +And then at last they began to speak of Mary in Fotheringay and at that +a maid came in to say that it was eight o'clock, and would his Reverence +come up, as a few had to travel home that night and to come again next +day.... + + * * * * * + +It was after nine o'clock before he came downstairs again, to find the +gentlefolk alone in the little parlour that opened from the hall. It +gave him a strange thrill of pleasure to see them there in the +firelight; the four of them only--Mr. John in the midst, with the three +ladies; and an empty chair waiting for the priest. He would hear their +confessions presently when the servants were gone to bed. A great mug of +warm ale stood by his place, to comfort him after his long ride and his +spiritual labours. + +Mr. John told him first the news of his own son, as was his duty to do; +and he told it without bitterness, in a level voice, leaning his cheek +on his hand. + +It appeared that Mr. Thomas still passed for a Catholic among the +simpler folk; but with none else. All the great houses round about had +the truth as an open secret; and their doors were closed to him; neither +had any priest been near him, since the day when Mr. Simpson met him +alone on the moors and spoke to him of his soul. Even then Mr. Thomas +had blustered and declared that there was no truth in the tale; and had +so ridden away at last, saying that such pestering was enough to make a +man lose his religion altogether. + +"As for me," said Mr. John, "he has not been near me, nor I near him. He +lives at Norbury for the most part. My brother is attempting to set +aside the disposition he had made in his favour; but they say that it +will be made to stand; and that my son will get it all yet. But he has +not troubled us at Padley; nor will he, I think." + +"He is at Norbury, you say, sir?" + +"Yes; but he goes here and there continually. He has been to London to +lay informations, I have no doubt, for I know that he hath been seen +there in Topcliffe's company.... It seems that we are to be in the thick +of the conflict. We have had above a dozen priests in this county alone +arraigned for treason, and the most of them executed." + +His voice had gone lower, and trembled once or twice as he talked. It +was plain that he could not bear to speak much more against the son that +had turned against him and his Faith, for the sake of his own liberty +and the estates he had hoped to have. Robin made haste to turn the talk. + +"And my father, sir?" + +Mr. John looked at him tenderly. + +"You must ask Mistress Marjorie of him," he said. "I have not seen him +these three years." + +Robin turned to the girl. + +"I have had no more news of him since what I wrote to you," she said +quietly. "After I had spoken with him, and he had given me the warning, +he held himself aloof." + +"Hath he been at any of the trials at Derby?" + +She bowed her head. + +"He was at the trial of Mr. Garlick," she said; "last year; and was one +of those who spoke for his banishment." + + * * * * * + +And then, on a sudden, Mistress Alice moved in her corner, where she sat +with the widow of her brother. + +"And what of her Grace?" she said. "Is it true what Dick told us before +supper, that Parliament hath sentenced her?" + +Robin shook his head. + +"I hear so much gossip," he said, "in the taverns, that I believe +nothing. I had not heard that. Tell me what it was." + +He was in a torment of mind as to what he should say of his own +adventure at Chartley. On the one side it was plain that no rumour of +the tale must get abroad or he would never be able to come to her again; +on the other side, no word had come from Mr. Bourgoign, though two +months had passed. He knew, indeed, what all the world knew by now, that +a trial had been held by over forty lords in Fotheringay Castle, whither +the Queen had been moved at the end of September, and that reports had +been sent of it to London. But for the rest he knew no more than the +others. Tales ran about the country on every side. One man would say +that he had it from London direct that Parliament had sentenced her; +another that the Queen of England had given her consent too; a third, +that Parliament had not dared to touch the matter at all; a fourth, that +Elizabeth had pardoned her. But, for Robin, his hesitation largely lay +in his knowledge that it was on the Babington plot that all would turn, +and that this would have been the chief charge against her; and here, +but a yard away from him, in the gloom of the chimney-breast sat +Anthony's wife and sister. How could he say that this was so, and yet +that he believed her wholly innocent of a crime which he detested? He +had dreaded this talk the instant that he had seen them in the hall and +heard their names. + +But Mistress Alice would not be put off. She repeated what she had said. +Dick had come up from Dethick only that afternoon, and was now gone +again, so that he could not be questioned; but he had told his mistress +plainly that the story in Derby, brought in by couriers, was that +Parliament had consented and had passed sentence on her Grace; that her +Grace herself had received the news only the day before; but that the +warrant was not signed. + +"And on what charge?" asked Robin desperately. Mistress Alice's voice +rang out proudly; but he saw her press the girl closer as she spoke. + +"That she was privy to the plot which my ... my brother had a hand in." + +Then Robin drew a breath and decided. + +"It may be so," he said. "But I do not believe she was privy to it. I +spoke with her Grace at Chartley--" + +There was a swift movement in the half circle. + +"I spoke with her Grace at Chartley," he said. "I went to her under +guise of a herbalist: I heard her confession and gave her communion; and +she declared publicly, before two witnesses, after she had had +communion, that she was guiltless." + + * * * * * + +Robin was no story-teller; but for half an hour he was forced to become +one, until his hearers were satisfied. Even here, in the distant hills, +Mary's name was a key to a treasure-house of mysteries. It was through +this country, too, that she had passed again and again. It was at old +Chatsworth--the square house with the huge Italian and Dutch gardens, +that a Cavendish had bought thirty years ago from the Agards--that she +had passed part of her captivity; it was in Derby that she had halted +for a night last year; it was near Burton that she had slept two months +ago on her road to Fotheringay; and to hear now of her, from one who had +spoken to her that very autumn, was as a revelation. So Robin told it as +well as he could. + +"And it may be," he said, "that I shall have to go again. Mr. Bourgoign +said that he would send to me if he could. But I have heard no word from +him." (He glanced round the watching faces.) "And I need not say that I +shall hear no word at all, if the tale I have told you leak out." + +"Perhaps she hath a chaplain again," said Mr. John, after pause. + +"I do not think so," said the priest. "If she had none at Chartley, she +would all the less have one at Fotheringay." + +"And it may be you will be sent for again?" asked Marjorie's voice +gently from the darkness. + +"It may be so," said the priest. + +"The letter is to be sent here?" she asked. + +"I told Mr. Bourgoign so." + +"Does any other know you are here?" + +"No, Mistress Marjorie." + +There was a pause. + +"It is growing late," said Mr. John. "Will your Reverence go upstairs +with me; and these ladies will come after, I think." + + +III + +If it had been a great day for Robin that he should come back to his own +country after six years, and be received in this house of strange +memories; that he should sit upstairs as a priest, and hear confessions +in that very parlour where nearly seven years ago he had sat with +Marjorie as her accepted lover--if all this had been charged, to him, +with emotions and memories which, however he had outgrown them, yet +echoed somewhere wonderfully in his mind; it was no less a kind of +climax and consummation to the girl whose house this was, and who had +waited so long to receive back a lover who came now in so different a +guise. + +But it must be made plain that to neither of them was there a thought or +a memory that ought not to be. To those who hold that men are no better, +except for their brains, than other animals; that they are but, after +all, bundles of sense from which all love and aspiration take their +rise--to such the thing will seem simply false. They will say that it +was not so; that all that strange yearning that Marjorie had to see the +man back again; that the excitement that beat in Robin's heart as he had +ridden up the well-remembered slope, all in the dark, and had seen the +lighted windows at the top; that these were but the old loves in the +disguise of piety. But to those who understand what priesthood is, for +him that receives it, and for the soul that reverences it, the thing is +a truism. For the priest was one who loved Christ more than all the +world; and the woman one who loved priesthood more than herself. + +Yet her memories of him that remained in her had, of course, a place in +her heart; and, though she knelt before him presently in the little +parlour where once he had kneeled before her, as simply as a child +before her father, and told her sins, and received Christ's pardon, and +went away to make room for the next--though all this was without a +reproach in her eyes; yet, as she went she knew that she must face a +fresh struggle, and a temptation that would not have been one-tenth so +fierce if it had been some other priest that was in peril. That peril +was Fotheringay, where (as she knew well enough) every strange face +would be scrutinized as perhaps nowhere else in all England; and that +temptation lay in the knowledge that when that letter should come (as +she knew in her heart it would come), it would be through her hands that +it would pass--if it passed indeed. + + * * * * * + +While the others went to the priest one by one, Marjorie kneeled in her +room, fighting with a devil that was not yet come to her, as is the way +with sensitive consciences. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +The suspense at Fotheringay grew deeper with every day that passed. + +Christmas was come and gone, and no sign was made from London, so far, +at least, as the little town was concerned. There came almost daily from +the castle new tales of slights put upon the Queen, and now and again of +new favours granted to her. Her chaplain, withdrawn for a while, had +been admitted to her again a week before Christmas; a crowd had +collected to see the Popish priest ride in, and had remarked on his +timorous air; and about the same time a courier had been watched as he +rode off to London, bearing, it was rumoured, one last appeal from one +Queen to the other. On the other hand, it was known that Mary no longer +had her dais in her chamber, and that the billiard-table, which she +never used, had been taken away again. + +But all this had happened before Christmas, and now a month had gone by, +and although this or that tale of discourtesy from gaoler to prisoner +leaked out through the servants; though it was known that the crucifix +which Mary had hung up in the place where her dais had stood remained +undisturbed--though this argument or the other could be advanced in turn +by men sitting over their wine in the taverns, that the Queen's cause +was rising or falling, nothing was truly known the one way or the other. +It had been proclaimed, by trumpet, in every town in England, that +sentence of death was passed; yet this was two or three months ago, and +the knowledge that the warrant had not yet been signed seemed an +argument to some that now it never would be. + + * * * * * + +A group was waiting (as a group usually did wait) at the village +entrance to the new bridge lately built by her Grace of England, towards +sunset on an evening late in January. This situation commanded, so far +as was possible, every point of interest. It was the beginning of the +London road, up which so many couriers had passed; it was over this +bridge that her Grace of Scotland herself had come from her +cross-country journey from Chartley. On the left, looking northwards, +rose the great old collegiate church, with its graceful lantern tower, +above the low thatched stone houses of the village; on the right, +adjoining the village beyond the big inn, rose the huge keep of the +castle and its walls, within its double moats, ranged in form of a +fetterlock of which the river itself was its straight side. Beyond, the +low rolling hills and meadows met the chilly January sky. + +For four months now the village had been transformed into a kind of +camp. The castle itself was crammed to bursting. The row of little +windows beside the hall on the first floor, visible only from the road +that led past the inn parallel to the river, marked the lodgings of the +Queen, where, with the hall also for her use, she lived continually; the +rest of the castle was full of men-at-arms, officers, great lords who +came and went--these, with the castellan's rooms and those of his +people, Sir Amyas' lodgings, and the space occupied by Mary's own +servants--all these filled the castle entirely. For the rest--the +garrison not on duty, the grooms, the couriers, the lesser servants, the +suites of the visitors, and even many of the visitors themselves--these +filled the two inns of the little town completely, and overflowed +everywhere into the houses of the people. It was a vision of a garrison +in war-time that the countryfolk gaped at continually; the street +sparkled all day with liveries and arms; archers went to and fro; the +trample of horses, the sharp military orders at the changings of guard +outside and within the towered gateway that commanded the entrance over +the moats, the songs of men over their wine in the tavern-parlours-- +these things had become matters of common observation, and fired many a +young farm-man with a zeal for arms. + +The Queen herself was a mystery. + +They had seen, for a moment, as she drove in after dark last September, +a coach (in which, it was said, she had sat with her back to the horses) +surrounded by guards; patient watchers had, perhaps, half a dozen times +altogether caught a glimpse of a woman's face, at a window that was +supposed to be hers, look out for an instant over the wall that skirted +the moat. But that was all. They heard the trumpets' cry within the +castle; and even learned to distinguish something of what each +signified--the call for the changing of guards, the announcement of +dinner and supper; the warning to the gatekeepers that persons were to +pass out. But of her, round whom all this centred, of the prison-queen +of this hive of angry bees, they knew less than of her Grace of England +whom once they had seen ride in through these very gates. Tales, of +course, were abundant--gossip from servant to servant, filtering down at +last, distorted or attenuated, to the rustics who watched and exclaimed; +but there was not a soldier who kept her, not a cook who served her, of +whom they did not know more than of herself. There were even parties in +the village; or, rather, there was a silent group who did not join in +the universal disapproval, but these were queer and fantastic persons, +who still held to the old ways and would not go to church with the rest. + +A little more material had been supplied for conversation by the events +of to-day. It had positively been reported, by a fellow who had been to +see about a room for himself in the village, that he had been turned out +of the castle to make space for her Grace's chaplain. This was puzzling. +Had not the Popish priest already been in the castle five or six weeks? +Then why should he now require another chamber? + +The argument waxed hot by the bridge. One said that it was another +priest that was come in disguise; another, that once a Popish priest got +a foothold in a place he was never content till he got the whole for +himself; a third, that the fellow had simply lied, and that he was +turned out because he had been caught by Sir Amyas making love to one of +the maids. Each was positive of his own thesis, and argued for it by the +process of re-assertion that it was so, and that his opponents were +fools. They spat into the water; one got out a tobacco pipe that a +soldier had given him and made a great show of filling it, though he had +no flint to light it with; another proclaimed that for two figs he would +go and inquire at the gateway itself.... + +To this barren war of the schools came a fact at last, and its bearer +was a gorgeous figure of a man-at-arms (who, later, got into trouble by +talking too much), who came swaggering down the road from the New Inn, +blowing smoke into the air, with his hat on one side, and his +breast-piece loose; and declared in that strange clipped London-English +of his that he had been on guard at the door of Sir Amyas' room, and had +heard him tell Melville the steward and De Preau the priest that they +must no longer have access to her Grace, but must move their lodgings +elsewhere within the castle. + +This, then, had to be discussed once more from the beginning. One said +that this was an evident sign that the end was to come and that Madam +was to die; another that, on the contrary, it was plain that this was +not so, but that rather she was to be compelled by greater strictness to +acknowledge her guilt; a third, that it was none of these things, but +rather that Madam was turning Protestant at last in order to save her +life, and had devised this manner of ridding herself of the priest. And +the soldier damned them all round as block-fools, who knew nothing and +talked all the more for it. + + * * * * * + +The dark was beginning to fall before the group broke up, and none of +them took much notice of a young man on a fresh horse, who rode quietly +out of the yard of the New Inn as the saunterers came up. One of them, +three minutes later, however, heard suddenly from across the bridge the +sound of a horse breaking into a gallop and presently dying away +westwards beyond Perry Lane. + + +II + +Within the castle that evening nothing happened that was of any note to +its more careless occupants. All was as usual. + +The guard at the towers that controlled the drawbridge across the outer +moat was changed at four o'clock; six men came out, under an officer, +from the inner court; the words were exchanged, and the six that went +off duty marched into the armoury to lay by their pikes and presently +dispersed, four to their rooms in the east side of the quadrangle, two +to their quarters in the village. From the kitchen came the clash of +dishes. Sir Amyas came out from the direction of the keep, where he had +been conferring with Mr. FitzWilliam, the castellan, and passed across +to his lodging on the south. A butcher hurried in, under escort of a +couple of men from the gate, with a covered basket and disappeared into +the kitchen entry. All these things were observed idly by the dozen +guards who stood two at each of the five doors that gave upon the +courtyard. Presently, too, hardly ten minutes after the guard was +changed, three figures came out at the staircase foot where Sir Amyas +had just gone in, and stood there apparently talking in low voices. Then +one of them, Mr. Melville, the Queen's steward, came across the court +with Mr. Bourgoign towards the outer entrance, passed under it, and +presently Mr. Bourgoign came back and wheeled sharply in to the right by +the entry that led up to the Queen's lodging. Meanwhile the third +figure, whom one of the men had thought to be M. de Preau, had gone back +again towards Mr. Melville's rooms. + +That was all that was to be seen, until half an hour later, a few +minutes before the drawbridge was raised for the night, the steward came +back, crossed the court once more and vanished into the entry opposite. + +It was about this time that the young man had ridden out from the New +Inn. + +Then the sun went down; the flambeaux were lighted beneath the two great +entrances--in the towered archway across the moat, and the smaller +vaulted archway within, as well as one more flambeau stuck into the iron +ring by each of the four more court-doors, and lights began to burn in +the windows round about. The man at Sir Amyas' staircase looked across +the court and idly wondered what was passing in the rooms opposite on +the first floor where the Queen was lodged. He had heard that the priest +had been forced to change his room, and was to sleep in Mr. Melville's +for the present; so her Grace would have to get on without him as well +as she could. There would be no Popish mass to-morrow, then, in the +oratory that he had heard was made upstairs.... He marvelled at the +superstition that made this a burden.... + +At a quarter before six a trumpet blew, and presently the tall windows +of the hall across the court from him began to kindle. That was for her +Grace's supper to be served. At five minutes to six another trumpet +sounded, and M. Landet, the Queen's butler, hurried out with his white +rod to take his place for the entrance of the dishes. Finally, through +the ground-floor window at the foot of the Queen's stair, the man caught +a glimpse of moving figures passing towards the hall. That would be her +Grace going in state to her supper with her women; but, for the first +time, without either priest to say grace or steward to escort her. He +saw, too, the couple of guards under the inner archway come to the +salute as the little procession came for an instant within their view; +and Mr. Newrins, the butler of the castle, stop suddenly and pull off +his cap as he was hurrying in to be in time for the supper of the +gentlemen that was served in the keep half an hour after the Queen's. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, ten miles away, along the Uppingham and Leicester track, rode +a young man through the dark. + + +III + +Sunday, too, passed as usual. + +At half-past eight the bells of the church pealed out for the morning +service, and the village street was thronged with worshippers and a few +soldiers. At nine o'clock they ceased, and the street was empty. At +eleven o'clock the trumpets sounded to announce change of guard, and to +tell the kitchen folk that dishing-time was come. Half an hour later +once more the little procession glinted a moment through the +ground-floor window of the Queen's stair as her Grace went to dinner. +(She was not very well, the cooks had reported, and had eaten but little +last night.) At twelve o'clock she came out again and went upstairs; and +at the same time, in Leicester, a young man, splashed from head to foot, +slipped off a draggled and exhausted horse and went into an inn, +ordering a fresh horse to be ready for him at three o'clock. + +And so once more the sun went down, and the little rituals were +performed, and the guards were changed, and M. Landet, for the last time +in his life (though he did not know it), came out from the kitchen with +his white rod to bear it before the dishes of a Queen; and Sir Amyas +walked in from the orchard and was saluted, and Mr. FitzWilliam went his +rounds, and the drawbridge was raised. And, at the time that the +drawbridge was raised, a young man on a horse was wondering when he +should see the lights of Burton.... + + +IV + +The first that Mistress Manners knew of his coming in the early hours of +Monday morning, was when she was awakened by Janet in the pitch darkness +shaking her shoulder. + +"It is a young man," she said, "on foot. His horse fell five miles off. +He is come with a letter from Derby." + +Sleep fell from Marjorie like a cloak. This kind of thing had happened +to her before. Now and then such a letter would come from a priest who +lacked money or desired a guide or information. She sprang out of bed +and began to put on her outer dress and her hooded cloak, as the night +was cold. + +"Bring him into the hall," she said. "Get beer and some food, and blow +the fire up." + +Janet vanished. + +When the mistress came down five minutes later, all had been done as she +had ordered. The turf and wood fire leaped in the chimney; a young man, +still with his hat on his head and drawn down a little over his face, +was sitting over the hearth, steaming like a kettle, eating voraciously. +Janet was waiting discreetly by the doors. Marjorie nodded to her, and +she went out; she had learned that her mistress's secrets were not +always her own as well. + +"I am Mistress Manners," she said. "You have a letter for me?" + +The young man stood up. + +"I know you well enough, mistress," he said. "I am John Merton's son." + +Marjorie's heart leaped with relief. In spite of her determination that +this must be a letter from a priest, there had still thrust itself +before her mind the possibility that it might be that other letter whose +coming she had feared. She had told herself fiercely as she came +downstairs just now, that it could not be. No news was come from +Fotheringay all the winter; it was common knowledge that her Grace had a +priest of her own. And now that this was John Merton's son-- + +She smiled. + +"Give me the letter," she said. "I should have known you, too, if it +were not for the dark." + +"Well, mistress," he said, "the letter was to be delivered to you, Mr. +Melville said; but--" + +"Who?" + +"Mr. Melville, mistress: her Grace's steward at Fotheringay." + + * * * * * + +He talked on a moment or two, beginning to say that Mr. Melville himself +had come out to the inn, that he, as Melville's own servant, had been +lodging there, and had been bidden to hold himself in readiness, since +he knew Derbyshire.... But she was not listening. She only knew that +that had fallen which she feared. + +"Give me the letter," she said again. + +He sat down, excusing himself, and fumbled with his boot; and by the +time that he held it out to her, she was in the thick of the conflict. +She knew well enough what it meant--that there was no peril in all +England like that to which this letter called her friend, there, waiting +for him in Fotheringay where every strange face was suspected, where a +Popish priest was as a sheep in a den of wolves, where there would be no +mercy at all if he were discovered; and where, if he were to be of use +at all, he must adventure himself in the very spot where he would be +most suspected, on a task that would be thought the last word in treason +and disobedience. And, worst of all, this priest had lodged in the +tavern where the conspirators had lodged; he had talked with them the +night before their flight, and now, here he was, striving to get access +to her for whom all had been designed. Was there a soul in England that +could doubt his complicity?... And it was to her own house here in +Derbyshire that he had come for shelter; it was here that he had said +mass yesterday; and it must be from this house that he must ride, on one +of her horses; and it must be her hand that gave him the summons. Last +of all, it was she, Marjorie Manners, that had sent him to this life, +six years ago. + +Then, as she took the letter, the shrewd woman in her spoke. It was +irresistible, and she seemed to listen to voice that was not hers. + +"Does any here know that you are come?" + +"No, mistress." + +"If I bade you, and said that I had reasons for it, you would ride away +again alone, without a word to any?" + +"Why, yes, mistress!" + +(Oh! the plan was irresistible and complete. She would send this +messenger away again on one of her own horses as far as Derby; he could +leave the horse there, and she would send a man for it to-morrow. He +would go back to Fotheringay and would wait, he and those that had sent +him. And the priest they expected would not come. He, too, himself, had +ceased to expect any word from Mr. Bourgoign; he had said a month ago +that surely none would come now. He had been away from Booth's Edge, in +fact, for nearly a month, and had scarcely even asked on his return last +Saturday to Padley, whether any message had come. Why, it was +complete--complete and irresistible! She would burn the letter here in +this hall-fire when the man was gone again; and say to Janet that the +letter had been from a travelling priest that was in trouble, and that +she had sent the answer. And Robin would presently cease to look for +news, and the end would come, and there would be no more trouble.) + +"Do you know what is in the letter?" she whispered sharply. ("Sit down +again and go on eating.") + +He obeyed her. + +"Yes, mistress," he said. "The priest was taken from her on Saturday. +Mr. Bourgoign had arranged all in readiness for that." + +"You said Mr. Melville." + +"Mr. Melville is a Protestant, mistress; but he is very well devoted to +her Grace, and has done as Mr. Bourgoign wished." + +"Why must her Grace have a priest at once? Surely for a few days--" + +He glanced up at her, and she, conscious of her own falseness, thought +he looked astonished. + +"I mean that they will surely give her her priest back, again presently; +and"--(her voice faltered)--"and Mr. Alban is spent with his +travelling." + +"They mean to kill her, mistress. There is no doubt of it amongst those +of us that are Catholics. And it is that she may have a priest before +she dies, that--" + +He paused. + +"Yes?" she said. + +"Her Grace had a fit of crying, it is said, when her priest was taken +from her. Mr. Melville was crying himself, even though--" + +He stopped, himself plainly affected. + + * * * * * + +Then, in a great surge, her own heart rose up, and she understood what +she was doing. As in a vision, she saw her own mother crying out for the +priest that never came; and she understood that horror of darkness that +falls on one who, knowing what the priest can do, knowing the infinite +consolations which Christ gives, is deprived, when physical death +approaches, of that tremendous strength and comfort. Indeed, she +recognised to the full that when a priest cannot be had, God will save +and forgive without him; yet what would be the heartlessness, to say +nothing of the guilt, of one that would keep him away? For what, except +that this strength and comfort might be at the service of Christ's +flock, had her own life been spent? It was expressly for this that she +had lived on in England when peace and the cloister might be hers +elsewhere; and now that her own life was touched, should she fail?... +The blindness passed like a dream, and her soul rose up again on a wave +of pain and exaltation.... + +"Wait," she said. "I will go and awaken him, and bid him come down." + + +V + +An hour later, as the first streaks of dawn slit the sky to the +eastwards over the moors, she stood with Janet and Mistress Alice and +Robin by the hall fire. + +She had said not a word to any of the struggle she had passed through. +She had gone upstairs resolutely and knocked on his door till he had +answered, and then whispered, "The letter is come.... I will have food +ready"; slipping the letter beneath the door. + +Then she had sent Janet to awaken a couple of men that slept over the +stables; and bid them saddle two horses at once; and herself had gone to +the buttery to make ready a meal. Then Mistress Alice had awakened and +come downstairs, and the three women had waited on the priest, as, in +boots and cloak, he had taken some food. + +Then, as the sound of the horses' feet coming round from the stables at +the back had reached them, she had determined to tell Robin before he +went of how she had played the coward. + +She went out with him to the entry between the hall and the buttery, +holding the others back with a glance. + +"I near destroyed the letter," she said simply, with downcast eyes, "and +sent the man away again. I was afraid of what might fall at +Fotheringay.... May Christ protect you!" + +She said no more than that, but turned and called the others before he +could speak. + +As he gathered up the reins a moment later, before mounting, the three +women kneeled down in the lighted entry and the two farm-men by the +horses' heads, and the priest gave them his blessing. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +It was not until after dawn on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of January, +as the bells were ringing in the parish church for the Conversion of St. +Paul, that the two draggled travellers rode in over the bridge of +Fotheringay, seeing the castle-keep rise grim and grey out of the +river-mists on the right; and, passing on, dismounted in the yard of the +New Inn. They had had one or two small misadventures by the way, and +young Merton, through sheer sleepiness, had so reeled in his saddle on +the afternoon of Monday, that the priest had insisted that they should +both have at least one good night's rest. But they had ridden all +Tuesday night without drawing rein, and Robin, going up to the room that +he was to share with the young man, fell upon the bed, and asleep, all +in one act. + + * * * * * + +He was awakened by the trumpets sounding for dinner in the castle-yard, +and sat up to find young John looking at him. The news that he brought +drove the last shreds of sleep from his brain. + +"I have seen Mr. Melville, my master, sir. He bids me say it is useless +for Mr. Bourgoign, or anyone else, to attempt anything with Sir Amyas +for the present. Mr. Melville hath spoken to Sir Amyas as to his +separation from her Grace, and could get no reason for it. But the same +day--it was of Monday--her Grace's butler was forbidden any more to +carry the white rod before her dishes. This is as much as to signify, +Mr. Melville says, that her Grace's royalty shall no longer protect her. +It is their intention, he says, to degrade her first, before they +execute her. And we may look for the warrant any day, my master says." + +The young man stared at him mournfully. + +"And M. de Preau?" + +"M. de Preau goes about as a ghost. He will come and speak with your +Reverence before the day is out. Meanwhile, Mr. Melville says you may +walk abroad freely. Sir Amyas never goes forth of the castle now, and +none will notice. But they might take notice, Mr. Melville says, if you +were to lie all day in your chamber." + + * * * * * + +It was after dinner, as Robin rose from the table in a parlour, where he +had dined with two or three lawyers and an officer of Mr. FitzWilliam, +that John Merton came to him and told him that a gentleman was waiting. +He went upstairs and found the priest, a little timorous-looking man, +dressed like a minister, pacing quickly to and fro in the tiny room at +the top of the house where John and he were to sleep. The Frenchman +seized his two hands and began to pour out in an agitated whisper a +torrent of French and English. Robin disengaged himself. + +"You must sit down, M. de Preau," he said, "and speak slowly, or I shall +not understand one word. Tell me precisely what I must do. I am here to +obey orders--no more. I have no design in my head at all. I will do what +Mr. Bourgoign and yourself decide." + + * * * * * + +It was pathetic to watch the little priest. He interrupted himself by a +thousand apostrophes; he lifted hands and eyes to the ceiling +repeatedly; he named his poor mistress saint and martyr; he cried out +against the barbarian land in which he found himself, and the +bloodthirsty tigers with whom, like a second Daniel, he himself had to +consort; he expatiated on the horrible risk that he ran in venturing +forth from the castle on such an errand, saying that Sir Amyas would +wring his neck like a hen's, if he so much as suspected the nature of +his business. He denounced, with feeble venom, the wickedness of these +murderers, who would not only slay his mistress's body, but her soul as +well, if they could, by depriving her of a priest. Incidentally, +however, he disclosed that at present there was no plan at all for +Robin's admission. Mr. Bourgoign had sent for him, hoping that he might +be able to reintroduce him once more on the same pretext as at Chartley; +but the incident of Monday, when the white rod had been forbidden, and +the conversation of Sir Amyas to Mr. Melville had made it evident that +an attempt at present would be worse than useless. + +"You must yourself choose!" he cried, with an abominable accent. "If you +will imperil your life by remaining, our Lord will no doubt reward you +in eternity; but, if not, and you flee, not a man will blame you--least +of all myself, who would, no doubt, flee too, if I but dared." + +This was frank and humble, at any rate. Robin smiled. + +"I will remain," he said. + +The Frenchman seized his hands and kissed them. + +"You are a hero and a martyr, monsieur! We will perish together, +therefore." + + +II + +After the Frenchman's departure, and an hour's sleep in that profundity +of unconsciousness that follows prolonged effort, Robin put on his sword +and hat and cloak, having dressed himself with care, and went slowly out +of the inn to inspect the battlefield. He carried himself deliberately, +with a kind of assured insolence, as if he had supreme rights in this +place, and were one of that crowd of persons--great lords, lawyers, +agents of the court--to whom for the last few months Fotheringay had +become accustomed. He turned first to the right towards the castle, and +presently was passing down its long length. + +It looked, indeed, a royal prison. A low wall on his right protected the +road from the huge outer moat that ran, in the shape of a fetterlock, +completely round all the buildings; and beyond it, springing immediately +from the edge of the water, rose the massive outer wall, pierced here +and there with windows. He thought that he could make out the tops of +the hall windows in one place, beyond the skirting wall, the pinnacles +of the chapel in another, and a row of further windows that might be +lodgings in a third; but from without here nothing was certain, except +the gigantic keep, that stood high to the west, and the strong towers +that guarded the drawbridge; this, as he went by, was lowered to its +place, and he could look across it into the archway, where four men +stood on guard with their pikes. The inner doors, however, were closed +beyond them, and he could see nothing of the inner moat that surrounded +the court, nor the yard itself. Neither did he think it prudent to ask +any questions, though he looked freely about him; since the part he must +play for the present plainly was that of one who had a right here and +knew what he did. + +He came back to the inn an hour later, after a walk through the village +and round the locked church: this was a splendid building, with flying +buttresses and a high tower, with exterior carvings of saints and +evangelists all in place. But it looked desolate to him, and he was the +more dejected, as he seemed no nearer to the Queen than before, and with +little chance of getting there. Meanwhile, there was but one thing to be +done, and that the hardest of all--to wait. Perhaps in a few days he +might get speech with Mr. Bourgoign; yet for the present that, too, as +the priest had told him, was out of the question. + + +III + +Five days were gone by, Sunday had come and gone, and yet there had been +no news, except a letter conveyed to him by Merton, written by Mr. +Bourgoign himself, telling him that he had news that Mr. Beale, the +Clerk of the Council, was to arrive some time that week, and that this +presaged the approach of the end. He would, therefore, do his utmost +within the next few days to approach Sir Amyas and ask for the admission +of the young herbalist who had done her Grace so much good at Chartley. +He added that if any question were to be raised as to why he had been so +long in the place, and why, indeed, he had come at all, he was to answer +fearlessly that Mr. Bourgoign had sent for him. + +On the Sunday night Robin could not sleep. Little by little the hideous +suspense was acting upon him, and the knowledge that not a hundred yards +away from him the wonderful woman whom he had seen at Chartley, the +loving and humble Catholic, who had kneeled so ardently before her Lord, +the Queen who had received from him the sacraments for which she +thirsted--the knowledge that she was breaking her heart, so near, for +the consolation which a priest only could give, and that he, a priest, +was free to go through all England, except through that towered gateway +past which he walked every day--this increased his misery and his +longing. + +The very day he had been through--the Sunday on which he could neither +say nor even hear mass (for, because of the greatness of that which was +at stake, he had thought it wiser to bring with him nothing that could +arouse suspicion)--and the hearing of the bells from the church calling +to Protestant prayers, and the sight of the crowds going and +returning--this brought him lower than he had been since his first +coming to England. He lay then in the darkness, turning from side to +side, thinking of these things, listening to the breathing of the young +man who lay on blankets at the foot of his bed. + +About midnight he could lie there no longer. He got out of bed +noiselessly, stepped across the other, went to the window-seat and sat +down there, staring out, with eyes well accustomed to the darkness, +towards the vast outline against the sky which he knew was the keep of +the castle. No light burned there to relieve its brutality. It remained +there, implacable as English justice, immovable as the heart of +Elizabeth and the composure of the gaoler who kept it.... Then he +drew out Mr. Maine's rosary and began to recite the "Sorrowful +Mysteries."... + +He supposed afterwards that he had begun to doze; but he started, +wide-awake, at a sudden glare of light in his eyes, as if a beacon had +flared for an instant somewhere within the castle enclosure. It was gone +again, however; there remained the steady monstrous mass of building and +the heavy sky. Then, as he watched, it came again, without warning and +without sound--that same brilliant flare of light, against which the +towers and walls stood out pitch-black. A third time it came, and all +was dark once more. + + * * * * * + +In the morning, as he sat over his ale in the tavern below, he listened, +without lifting his eyes, engrossed, it seemed, in a little book he was +reading, to the excited talk of a group of soldiers. One of them, he +said, had been on guard beneath the Queen's windows last night, and +between midnight and one o'clock had seen three times a brilliant light +explode itself, like soundless gunpowder, immediately over the room +where she slept. And this he asserted, over and over again. + + +IV + +On the following Saturday John Merton came up into the room where the +priest was sleeping after dinner and awakened him. + +"If you will come at once with me, sir, you can have speech with Mr. +Bourgoign. My master has sent me to tell you so; Mr. Bourgoign has leave +to go out." + +Robin said nothing. It was the kind of opportunity that must not be +imperilled by a single word that might be overheard. He threw on his +great cloak, buckled his sword on, and followed with every nerve awake. +They went up the street leading towards the church, and turned down a +little passage-way between two of the larger houses; the young man +pushed on a door in the wall; and Robin went through, to find himself in +a little enclosed garden with Mr. Bourgoign gathering herbs from the +border, not a yard from him. The physician said nothing; he glanced +sharply up and pointed to a seat set under the shelter of the wall that +hid the greater part of the garden from the house to which it belonged; +and as Robin reached it, Mr. Bourgoign, still gathering his herbs, began +to speak in an undertone. + +"Do not speak except very softly, if you must," he said. "The Queen is +sick again; and I have leave to gather herbs for her in two or three +gardens. It was refused to me at first and then granted afterwards. From +that I look for the worst.... Beale will come to-morrow, I hear.... +Paulet refused me leave the first time, I make no doubt, knowing that +all was to end within a day or two: then he granted it me, for fear I +should suspect his reason. (Can you hear me, sir?)" + +Robin nodded. His heart thumped within him. + +"Well, sir; I shall tell Sir Amyas to-morrow that my herbs do no +good--that I do not know what to give her Grace. I have seen her Grace +continually, but with a man in the room always.... Her Grace knows that +you are here, and bids me thank you with all her heart.... I shall speak +to Sir Amyas, and shall tell him that you are here: and that I sent for +you, but did not dare to ask leave for you until now. If he refuses I +shall know that all is finished, and that Beale has brought the warrant +with him.... If he consents I shall think that it is put off for a +little...." + +He was very near to Robin now, still, with a critical air pushing the +herbs this way and that, selecting one now and again. + +"Have you anything to say to me, sir? Do not speak loud. The fellow that +conducted me from the castle is drinking ale in the house behind. He did +not know of this door on the side.... Have you anything to say?" + +"Yes," said Robin. + +"What is it?" + +"Two things. The first is that I think one of the fellows in the inn is +doubtful of me. Merton tells me he has asked a great number of questions +about me. What had I best do?" + +"Who is he?" + +"He is a servant of my lord Shrewsbury's who is in the neighbourhood." + +The doctor was silent. + +"Am I in danger?" asked the priest quietly. "Shall I endanger her +Grace?" + +"You cannot endanger her Grace. She is near her end in any case. But +for yourself--" + +"Yes." + +"You are endangering yourself every instant by remaining," said the +doctor dryly. + +"The second matter--" began Robin. + +"But what of yourself--" + +"Myself must be endangered," said Robin softly. "The second matter is +whether you cannot get me near her Grace in the event of her execution. +I could at least give her absolution _sub conditione_." + +Mr. Bourgoign shot a glance at him which he could not interpret. + +"Sir," he said; "God will reward you.... As regards the second matter it +will be exceedingly difficult. If it is to be in the open court, I may +perhaps contrive it. If it is to be in the hall, none but known persons +would be admitted.... Have you anything more, sir?" + +"No." + +"Then you had best be gone again at once.... Her Grace prays for you.... +She had a fit of weeping last night to know that a priest was here and +she not able to have him.... Do you pray for her...." + + +V + +Sunday morning dawned; the bells pealed out; the crowds went by the +church and came back to dinner; and yet no word had come to the inn. +Robin scarcely stirred out all that day for fear a summons should come +and he miss it. He feigned a little illness and sat wrapped up in the +corner window of the parlour upstairs, whence he could command both +roads--that which led to the Castle, and that which led to the bridge +over which Mr. Beale must come. He considered it prudent also to do +this, because of the fellow of whom Merton had told him--a man that +looked like a groom, and who was lent, he heard, with one or two others +by his master to do service at the Castle. + +Robin's own plan had been distinct ever since M. de Preau had brought +him the first message. He bore himself, as has been said, assuredly and +confidently; and if he were questioned would simply have said that he +had business connected with the Castle. This, asserted in a proper tone, +would probably have its effect. There was so much mystery, involving +such highly-placed personages from the Queen of England downwards, that +discretion was safer than curiosity. + + * * * * * + +It was growing towards dark when Robin, after long and fruitless staring +down the castle road, turned himself to the other. The parlour was empty +at this hour except for himself. + +He saw the group gathering as usual at the entrance to the bridge to +watch the arrivals from London, who, if there were any, generally came +about this time. + +Then, as he looked, he saw two horsemen mount the further slope of the +bridge, and come full into view. + +Now there was nothing whatever about these two persons, in outward +appearance, to explain the strange effect they had upon the priest. They +could not possibly be the party for which he was watching. Mr. Beale +would certainly come with a great company. They were, besides, plainly +no more than serving-men: one wore some kind of a livery; the other, a +strongly-built man who sat his horse awkwardly, was in new clothes that +did not fit him. They rode ordinary hackneys; and each had luggage +strapped behind his saddle. All this the priest saw as they came up the +narrow street and halted before the inn door. They might, perhaps, be +servants of Mr. Beale; yet that did not seem probable as there was no +sign of a following party. The landlord came out on to the steps +beneath; and after a word or two, they slipped off their horses wearily, +and led them round into the court of the inn. + +All this was usual enough; the priest had seen such arrivals a dozen +times at this very door; yet he felt sick as he looked at them. There +appeared to him something terrible and sinister about them. He had seen +the face of the liveried servant; but not of the other: this one had +carried his head low, with his great hat drawn down on his head. The +priest wondered, too, what they carried in their trunks. + + * * * * * + +When he went down to supper in the great room of the inn, he could not +forbear looking round for them. But only one was to be seen--the +liveried servant who had done the talking. + +Robin turned to his neighbour--a lawyer with whom he had spoken a few +times. + +"That is a new livery to me," he said, nodding towards the stranger. + +"That?" said the lawyer. "That? Why, that is the livery of Mr. +Walsingham. I have seen it in London." + + * * * * * + +Towards the end of supper a stir broke out among the servants who sat at +the lower end of the room near the windows that looked out upon the +streets. Two or three sprung up from the tables and went to look out. + +"What is that?" cried the lawyer. + +"It is Mr. Beale going past, sir," answered a voice. + +Robin lifted his eyes with an effort and looked. Even as he did so there +came a trampling of horses' hoofs; and then, in the light that streamed +from the windows, there appeared a company on horseback. They were too +far away from where he sat, and the lights were too confusing, for him +to see more than the general crowd that went by--perhaps from a dozen to +twenty all told. But by them ran the heads of men who had waited at the +bridge to see them go by; and a murmuring of voices came even through +the closed windows. It was plain that others besides those who were +close to her Grace, saw a sinister significance in Mr. Beale's arrival. + + +VI + +Robin had hardly reached his room after supper and a little dessert in +the parlour, before Merton came in. He drew his hand out of his breast +as he entered, and, with a strange look, gave the priest a folded +letter. Robin took it without a word and read it through. + +After a pause he said to the other: + +"Who were those two men that came before supper? I saw them ride up." + +"There is only one, sir. He is one of Mr. Walsingham's men." + +"There were two," said the priest. + +"I will inquire, sir," said the young man, looking anxiously from the +priest's face to the note and back again. + +Robin noticed it. + +"It is bad news," he said shortly. "I must say no more.... Will you +inquire for me; and come and tell me at once." + +When the young man had gone Robin read the note again before destroying +it. + +"I spoke to Sir A. to-day. He will have none of it. He seemed highly +suspicious when I spoke to him of you. If you value your safety more +than her Grace's possible comfort, you had best leave at once. In any +case, use great caution." + +Then, in a swift, hurried hand there followed a post-script: + +"Mr. B. is just now arrived, and is closeted with Sir A. All is over, I +think." + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later Merton came back and found the priest still in the +same attitude, sitting on the bed. + +"They will have none of it, sir," he said. "They say that one only came, +in advance of Mr. Beale." + +He came a little closer, and Robin could see that he was excited. + +"But you are right, sir, for all their lies. I saw supper plates and an +empty flagon come down from the stair that leads to the little chamber +above the kitchen." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +Overhead lay the heavy sky of night-clouds like a curved sheet of dark +steel, glimmering far away to the left with gashes of pale light. In +front towered the twin gateway, seeming in the gloom to lean forward to +its fall. Lights shone here and there in the windows, vanished and +appeared again, flashing themselves back from the invisible water +beneath. About, behind and on either side, there swayed and murmured +this huge crowd--invisible in the darkness--peasants, gentlemen, +clerks, grooms--all on an equality at last, awed by a common tragedy +into silence, except for words exchanged here and there in an undertone, +or whispered and left unanswered, or sudden murmured prayers to a God +who hid Himself indeed. Now and again, from beyond the veiling walls +came the tramp of men; once, three or four brisk notes blown on a horn; +once, the sudden rumble of a drum; and once, when the silence grew +profound, three or four blows of iron on wood. But at that the murmur +rose into a groan and drowned it again.... + +So the minutes passed.... Since soon after midnight the folks had been +gathering here. Many had not slept all night, ever since the report had +run like fire through the little town last evening, that the sentence +had been delivered to the prisoner. From that time onwards the road that +led down past the Castle had never been empty. It was now moving on to +dawn, the late dawn of February; and every instant the scene grew more +distinct. It was possible for those pushed against the wall, or against +the chains of the bridge that had been let down an hour ago, to look +down into the chilly water of the moat; to see not the silhouette only +of the huge fortress, but the battlements of the wall, and now and again +a steel cap and a pike-point pass beyond it as the sentry went to and +fro. Noises within the Castle grew more frequent. The voice of an +officer was heard half a dozen times; the rattle of pike-butts, the +clash of steel. The melancholy bray of the horn-blower ran up a minor +scale and down again; the dub-dub of a drum rang out, and was thrown +back in throbs by the encircling walls. The galloping of horses was +heard three or four times as a late-comer tore up the village street and +was forced to halt far away on the outskirts of the crowd--some country +squire, maybe, to whom the amazing news had come an hour ago. Still +there was no movement of the great doors across the bridge. The men on +guard there shifted their positions; nodded a word or two across to one +another; changed their pikes from one hand to the other. It seemed as if +day would come and find the affair no further advanced.... + +Then, without warning (for so do great climaxes always come), the doors +wheeled back on their hinges, disclosing a line of pikemen drawn up +under the vaulted entrance; a sharp command was uttered by an officer at +their head, causing the two sentries to advance across the bridge; a +great roaring howl rose from the surging crowd; and in an instant the +whole lane was in confusion. Robin felt himself pushed this way and +that; he struggled violently, driving his elbows right and left; was +lifted for a moment clean from his feet by the pressure about him; +slipped down again; gained a yard or two; lost them; gained three or +four in a sudden swirl; and immediately found his feet on wood instead +of earth; and himself racing desperately as a loose group of runners, +across the bridge; and beneath the arch of the castle-gate. + + +II + +When he was able to take breath again, and to substitute thought for +blind instinct, he found himself tramping in a kind of stream of men +into what appeared an impenetrably packed crowd. He was going between +ropes, however, which formed a lane up which it was possible to move. +This lane, after crossing half the court, wheeled suddenly to one side +and doubled on itself, conducting the newcomers behind the crowd of +privileged persons that had come into the castle overnight, or had been +admitted three or four hours ago. These persons were all people of +quality; many of them, out of a kind of sympathy for what was to happen, +were in black. They stood there in rows, scarcely moving, scarcely +speaking, some even bare-headed, filling up now, so far as the priest +could see, the entire court, except in that quarter in which he +presently found himself--the furthest corner away from where rose up the +tall carved and traceried windows of the banqueting-hall. Yet, though no +man spoke above an undertone, a steady low murmur filled the court from +side to side, like the sound of a wagon rolling over a paved road. + +He reached his place at last, actually against the wall of the soldiers' +lodgings, and found, presently, that a low row of projecting stones +enabled him to raise himself a few inches, and see, at any rate, a +little better than his neighbours. He had perceived one thing +instantly--namely, that his dream of getting near enough to the Queen to +give her absolution before her death was an impossible one. He had known +since yesterday that the execution was to take place in the hall, and +here was he, within the court certainly, yet as far as possible away +from where he most desired to be. + + * * * * * + +The last two days had gone by in a horror that there is no describing. +All the hours of them he had passed at his parlour window, waiting +hopelessly for the summons which never came. John Merton had gone to the +castle and come back, each time with more desolate news. There was not a +possibility, he said, when the news was finally certified, of getting a +place in the hall. Three hundred gentlemen had had those places already +assigned; four or five hundred more, it was expected, would have space +reserved for them in the courtyard. The only possibility was to be early +at the gateway, since a limited number of these would probably be +admitted an hour or so before the time fixed for the execution. + +The priest had seen many sights from his parlour window during those two +days. + +On Monday he had seen, early in the morning, Mr. Beale ride out with his +men to go to my lord Shrewsbury, who was in the neighbourhood, and had +seen him return in time for dinner, with a number of strangers, among +whom was an ecclesiastic. On inquiry, he found this to be Dr. Fletcher, +Dean of Peterborough, who had been appointed to attend Mary both in her +lodgings and upon the scaffold. In the afternoon the street was not +empty for half an hour. From all sides poured in horsemen; gentlemen +riding in with their servants; yeomen and farmers come in from the +countryside, that they might say hereafter that they had at least been +in Fotheringay when a Queen suffered the death of the axe. So the dark +had fallen, yet lights moved about continually, and horses' hoofs never +ceased to beat or the voices of men to talk. Until he fell asleep at +last in his window-seat, he listened always to these things; watched +the lights; prayed softly to himself; clenched his nails into his hands +for indignation; and looked again. On the Tuesday morning came the +sheriff, to dine at the castle with Sir Amyas--a great figure of a man, +dignified and stalwart, riding in the midst of his men. After dinner +came the Earl of Kent, and, last of all, my lord Shrewsbury himself--he +who had been her Grace's gaoler, until he proved too kind for +Elizabeth's taste--now appointed, with peculiar malice, to assist at her +execution. He looked pale and dejected as he rode past beneath the +window. + +Yet all this time the supreme horror had been that the end was not +absolutely certain. All in Fotheringay were as convinced as men could +be, who had not seen the warrant nor heard it read, that Mr. Beale had +brought it with him on Sunday night; the priest, above all, from his +communications with Mr. Bourgoign, was morally certain that the terror +was come at last.... It was not until the last night of Mary's life on +earth was beginning to close in that John Merton came up to the parlour, +white and terrified, to tell him that he had been in his master's room +half an hour ago, and that Mr. Melville had come in to them, his face +all slobbered with tears, and had told him that he had but just come +from her Grace's rooms, and had heard with his own ears the sentence +read to her, and her gallant and noble answer.... He had bidden him to +go straight off to the priest, with a message from Mr. Bourgoign and +himself, to the effect that the execution was appointed for eight +o'clock next morning; and that he was to be at the gate of the castle +not later than three o'clock, if, by good fortune, he might be admitted +when the gates were opened at seven. + + +III + +And now that the priest was in his place, he began again to think over +that answer of the Queen. The very words of it, indeed, he did not know +for a month or two later, when Mr. Bourgoign wrote to him at length; but +this, at least, he knew, that her Grace had said (and no man +contradicted her at that time) that she would shed her blood to-morrow +with all the happiness in the world, since it was for the cause of the +Catholic and Roman Church that she died. It was not for any plot that +she was to die: she professed again, kissing her Bible as she did so, +that she was utterly guiltless of any plot against her sister. She died +because she was of that Faith in which she had been born, and which +Elizabeth had repudiated. As for death, she did not fear it; she had +looked for it during all the eighteen years of her imprisonment. + +It was at a martyrdom, then, that he was to assist.... He had known +that, without a doubt, ever since the day that Mary had declared her +innocence at Chartley. There had been no possibility of thinking +otherwise; and, as he reflected on this, he remembered that he, too, was +guilty of the same crime;... and he wondered whether he, too, would die +as manfully, if the need for it ever came. + + * * * * * + +Then, in an instant, he was called back, by the sudden crash of horns +and drums playing all together. He saw again the ranks of heads before +him: the great arched windows of the hall on the other side of the +court, the grim dominating keep, and the merciless February morning sky +over all. + +It was impossible to tell what was going on. + +On all sides of him men jostled and murmured aloud. One said, "She is +coming down"; another, "It is all over"; another, "They have awakened +her." "What is it? what is it?" whispered Robin to the air, watching +waves of movement pass over the serried heads before him. The lights +were still burning here and there in the windows, and the tall panes of +the hall were all aglow, as if a great fire burned within. Overhead the +sky had turned to daylight at last, but they were grey clouds that +filled the heavens so far as he could see. Meanwhile, the horns brayed +in unison, a rough melody like the notes of bugles, and the drums beat +out the time. + +Again there was a long pause--in which the lapse of time was +incalculable. Time had no meaning here: men waited from incident to +incident only--the moving of a line of steel caps, a pause in the music, +a head thrust out from a closed window and drawn back again.... Again +the music broke out, and this time it was an air that they played--a +lilting melancholy melody, that the priest recognised, yet could not +identify. Men laughed subduedly near him; he saw a face wrinkled with +bitter mirth turned back, and he heard what was said. It was "Jumping +Joan" that was being played--the march consecrated to the burning of +witches. He had heard it long ago, as a boy.... + +Then the rumour ran through the crowd, and spent itself at last in the +corner where the priest stood trembling with wrath and pity. + +"She is in the hall." + +It was impossible to know whether this were true, or whether she had not +been there half an hour already. The horror was that all might be over, +or not yet begun, or in the very act of doing. He had thought that there +would be some pause or warning--that a signal would be given, perhaps, +that all might bare their heads or pray, at this violent passing of a +Queen. But there was none. The heads surged and quieted; murmurs burst +out and died again; and all the while the hateful, insolent melody rose +and fell; the horns bellowed; the drums crashed. It sounded like some +shocking dance-measure; a riot of desperate spirits moved in it, +trampling up and down, as if in one last fling of devilish gaiety.... + + * * * * * + +Then suddenly the heads grew still; a wave of motionlessness passed over +them, as if some strange sympathy were communicated from within those +tall windows. The moments passed and passed. It was impossible to hear +those murmurs, through the blare of the instruments; there was one sound +only that could penetrate them; and this, rising from what seemed at +first the wailing of a child, grew and grew into the shrill cries of a +dog in agony. At the noise once more a roar of low questioning surged up +and fell. Simultaneously the music came to an abrupt close; and, as if +at a signal, there sounded a great roar of voices, all shouting together +within the hall. It rose yet louder, broke out of doors, and was taken +up by those outside. The court was now one sea of tossing heads and open +mouths shouting--as if in exultation or in anger. Robin fought for his +place on the projecting stones, clung to the rough wall, gripped a +window-bar and drew himself yet higher. + +Then, as he clenched himself tight and stared out again towards the tall +windows that shone in bloody flakes of fire from the roaring logs +within; a sudden and profound silence fell once more before being +shattered again by a thousand roaring throats.... + +For there, in full view beyond the clear glass stood a tall, black +figure, masked to the mouth, who held in his out-stretched hands a wide +silver dish, in which lay something white and round and slashed with +crimson.... + + + + + + +PART IV + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +"There is no more to be said, then," said Marjorie, and leaned back, +with a white, exhausted face. "We can do no more." + + * * * * * + +It was a little council of Papists that was gathered--a year after the +Queen's death at Fotheringay--in Mistress Manners' parlour. Mr. John +FitzHerbert was there; he had ridden up an hour before with heavy news +from Padley and its messenger. Mistress Alice was there, quiet as ever, +yet paler and thinner than in former years (Mistress Babington herself +had gone back to her family last year). And, last, Robin himself was +there, having himself borne the news from Derby. + +He had had an eventful year, yet never yet had he come within reach of +the pursuivant. But he had largely effected this by the particular care +which he had observed with regard to Matstead, and his silence as to his +own identity. Extraordinary care, too, was observed by his friends, who +had learned by now to call him even in private by his alias; and it +appeared certain that beyond a dozen or two of discreet persons it was +utterly unsuspected that the stately bearded young gentleman named Mr. +Robert Alban--the "man of God," as, like other priests, he was commonly +called amongst the Catholics--had any connection whatever with the +hawking, hunting, and hard-riding lover of Mistress Manners. It was +known, indeed, that Mr. Robin had gone abroad years ago to be made +priest; but those who thought of him at all, or, at least as returned, +believed him sent to some other part of England, for the sake of his +father, and it was partly because of the very fact that his father was +so hot against the Papists that it had been thought safe at Rheims to +send him to Derbyshire, since this would be the very last place in which +he would be looked for. + +He had avoided Matstead then--riding through it once only by night, with +strange emotions--and had spent most of his time in the south of +Derbyshire, crossing more than once over into Stafford and Chester, and +returning to Padley or to Booth's Edge once in every three or four +months. He had learned a hundred lessons in these wanderings of his. + +The news that he had now brought with him was of the worst. He had heard +from Catholics in Derby that Mr. Simpson, returned again after his +banishment, recaptured a month or two ago, and awaiting trial at the +Lent Assizes, was beginning to falter. Death was a certainty for him +this time, and it appeared that he had seemed very timorous before two +or three friends who had visited him in gaol, declaring that he had done +all that a man could do, that he was being worn out by suffering and +privation, and that there was some limit, after all, to what God +Almighty should demand. + +Marjorie had cried out just now, driven beyond herself at the thought of +what all this must mean for the Catholics of the countryside, many of +whom already had fallen away during the last year or two beneath the +pitiless storm of fines, suspicions, and threats--had cried out that it +was impossible that such a man as Mr. Simpson could fall; that the ruin +it would bring upon the Faith must be proportionate to the influence he +already had won throughout the country by his years of labour; +entreating, finally, when the trustworthiness of the report had been +forced upon her at last, that she herself might be allowed to go and +see him and speak with him in prison. + +This, however, had been strongly refused by her counsellors just now. +They had declared that her help was invaluable; that the amazing manner +in which her little retired house on the moors had so far evaded grave +suspicion rendered it one of the greatest safeguards that the hunted +Catholics possessed; that the work she was doing by her organization of +messengers and letters must not be risked, even for the sake of a matter +like this.... + +She had given in at last. But her spirit seemed broken altogether. + + +II + +"There is one more matter," said Robin presently, uncrossing one +splashed leg from over the other. "I had not thought to speak of it; but +I think it best now to do so. It concerns myself a little; and, +therefore, if I may flatter myself, it concerns my friends, too." + +He smiled genially upon the company; for if there was one thing more +than another he had learned in his travels, it was that the tragic air +never yet helped any man. + +Marjorie lifted her eyes a moment. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "you remember my speaking to you after +Fotheringay, of a fellow of my lord Shrewsbury's who honoured me with +his suspicions?" + +She nodded. + +"I have never set eyes on him from that day to this--to this," he added. +"And this morning in the open street in Derby whom should I meet with +but young Merton and his father. (Her Grace's servants have suffered +horribly since last year. But that is a tale for another day.) Well: I +stopped to speak with these two. The young man hath left Mr. Melville's +service a while back, it seems; and is to try his fortune in France. +Well; we were speaking of this and that, when who should come by but a +party of men and my lord Shrewsbury in the midst, riding with Mr. Roger +Columbell; and immediately behind them my friend of the 'New Inn' of +Fotheringay. It was all the ill-fortune in the world that it should be +at such moment; if he had seen me alone he would have thought no more of +me; but seeing me with young Jack Merton, he looked from one to the +other. And I will stake my hat he knew me again." + +Marjorie was looking full at him now. + +"What was my lord Shrewsbury doing in Derby with Mr. Columbell?" mused +Mr. John, biting his moustaches. + +"It was the very question I put to myself," said Robin. "And I took the +liberty of seeing where they went. They went to Mr. Columbell's own +house, and indoors of it. The serving-men held the horses at the door. I +watched them awhile from Mr. Biddell's window; but they were still there +when I came away at last." + +"What hour was that?" asked the old man. + +"That would be after dinner-time. I had dined early; and I met them +afterwards. My lord would surely be dining with Mr. Columbell. But that +is no answer to my question. It rather pierces down to the further +point, Why was my lord Shrewsbury dining with Mr. Columbell? Shrewsbury +is a great lord; Mr. Columbell is a little magistrate. My lord hath his +own house in the country, and there be good inns in Derby." + +He stopped short. + +"What is the matter, Mistress Manners?" he asked. + +"What of yourself?" she said sharply; "you were speaking of yourself." + +Robin laughed. + +"I had forgotten myself for once!... Why, yes; I intended to ask the +company what I had best do. What with this news of Mr. Simpson, and the +report Mistress Manners gives us of the country-folk, a poor priest must +look to himself in these days; and not for his own sake only. Now, my +lord Shrewsbury's man knows nothing of me except that I had strange +business at Fotheringay a year ago. But to have had strange business at +Fotheringay a year ago is a suspicious circumstance; and--" + +"Mr. Alban," broke in the old man, "you had best do nothing at all. You +were not followed from Derby; you are as safe in Padley or here as you +could be anywhere in England. All that you had best do is to remain here +a week or two and not go down to Derby again for the present. I think +that showing of yourself openly in towns hath its dangers as well as its +safeguards." + +Mr. John glanced round. Marjorie bowed her head in assent. + +"I will do precisely as you say," said Robin easily. "And now for the +news of her Grace's servants." + +He had already again and again told the tale of Fotheringay so far as he +had seen it in this very parlour. At first he had hardly found himself +able to speak of it without tears. He had described the scene he had +looked upon when, in the rush that had been made towards the hall after +Mary's head had been shown at the window, he had found a place, and had +been forced along, partly with his will and partly against it, right +through the great doors into the very place where the Queen had +suffered; and he had told the story so well that his listeners had +seemed to see it for themselves--the great hall hung with black +throughout; the raised scaffold at the further end beside the fire that +blazed on the wide hearth; the Queen's servants being led away +half-swooning as he came in; the dress of velvet, the straw and the +bloody sawdust, the beads and all the other pitiful relics being heaped +upon the fire as he stood there in the struggling mob; and, above all, +the fallen body, in its short skirt and bodice lying there where it fell +beside the low, black block. He had told all this as he had seen it for +himself, until the sheriff's men drove them all forth again into the +court; and he had told, too, of all that he had heard afterwards, that +had happened until my lord Shrewsbury's son had ridden out at a gallop +to take the news to court, and the imprisoned watchers had been allowed +to leave the Castle; how the little dog, that he had heard wailing, had +leapt out as the head fell at the third stroke, so that he was all +bathed in his mistress' blood--one of the very spaniels, no doubt, which +he himself had seen at Chartley; how the dog was taken away and washed +and given afterwards into Mr. Melville's charge; how the body and the +head had been taken upstairs, had been roughly embalmed, and laid in a +locked chamber; how her servants had been found peeping through the +keyhole and praying aloud there, till Sir Amyas had had the hole stopped +up. He had told them, too, of the events that followed; of the mass M. +de Preau had been permitted to say in the Queen's oratory on the morning +after; and of the oath that he had been forced to take that he would not +say it again; of the destruction of the oratory and the confiscation of +the altar furniture and vestments. + +All this he had told, little by little; and of the Queen's noble bearing +upon the scaffold, her utter fearlessness, her protestations that she +died for her religion and for that only, and of the pesterings of Dr. +Fletcher, Dean of Peterborough, who had at last given over in despair, +and prayed instead. The rest they knew for themselves--of the miserable +falseness of Elizabeth, who feigned, after having signed the warrant and +sent it, that it was Mr. Davison's fault for doing as she told him; and +of her accusations (accusations that deceived no man) against those who +had served her; of the fires made in the streets of all great towns as a +mark of official rejoicing over Mary's death; and of the pitiful +restitution made by the great funeral in Peterborough, six months after, +and the royal escutcheons and the tapers and the hearse, and all the +rest of the lying pretences by which the murderess sought to absolve her +victim from the crime of being murdered. Well; it was all over.... + + * * * * * + +And now he told them of what he had heard to-day from young Merton in +Derby; of how Nau, Mary's French secretary--the one who had served her +for eleven years and had been loaded by her kindness--had been rewarded +also by Elizabeth, and that the nature of his services was unmistakable; +while all the rest of them, who had refused utterly to take any part in +the insolent mourning at Peterborough, either in the Cathedral or at the +banquet, had fallen under her Grace's displeasure, so that some of them, +even now, were scarcely out of ward, Mr. Bourgoign alone excepted, since +he was allowed to take the news of the death to their Graces of France, +and had, most wisely, remained there ever since. + + * * * * * + +So the party sat round the fire in the same little parlour where they +had sat so often before, with the lutes and wreaths embroidered on the +hangings and Icarus in the chariot of the sun; and Robin, after telling +his tale, answered question after question, till silence fell, and all +sat motionless, thinking of the woman who, while dead, yet spoke. + +Then Mr. John stood up, clapped the priest on the back, and said that +they two must be off to Padley for the night. + + +III + +They had all risen to their feet when a knocking came on the door, and +Janet looked in. She seemed a little perturbed. + +"If you please, sir," she said to Mr. John, "one of your men is come up +from Padley; and wishes to speak to you alone." + +Mr. John gave a quick glance at the others. + +"If you will allow me," he said, "I will go down and speak with him in +the hall." + +The rest sat down again. It was the kind of interruption that might be +wholly innocent; yet, coming when it did, it affected them a little. +There seemed to be nothing but bad news everywhere. + +The minutes passed, yet no one returned. Once Marjorie went to the door +and listened, but there was only the faint wail of the winter wind up +the stairs to be heard. Then, five minutes later, there were steps and +Mr. John came in. His face looked a little stern, but he smiled with his +mouth. + +"We poor Papists are in trouble again," he said. "Mistress Manners, you +must let us stay here all night, if you will; and we will be off early +in the morning. There is a party coming to us from Derby--to-morrow or +next day: it is not known which." + +"Why, yes! And what party?" said Marjorie, quietly enough, though she +must have guessed its character. The smile left his mouth. + +"It is my son that is behind it," he said. "I had wondered we had not +had news of him! There is to be a general search for seminarists in the +High Peak" (he glanced at Robin), "by order of my lord Shrewsbury. Your +namesake, mistress, Mr. John Manners, and our friend Mr. Columbell, are +commissioned to search; and Mr. Fenton and myself are singled out to be +apprehended immediately. Thomas knows that I am at Padley, and that Mr. +Eyre will come in there for Candlemas, the day after to-morrow; in that +I recognize my son's knowledge. Well, I will dispatch my man who brought +the news to Mr. Eyre to bid him to avoid the place; and we two, Mr. +Alban and myself, will make our way across the border into Stafford." + +"There are none others coming to Padley to-morrow?" asked Marjorie. + +"None that I know of. They will come in sometimes without warning; but I +cannot help that. Mr. Fenton will be at Tansley: he told me so." + +"How did the news come?" asked Robin. + +"It seems that the preacher Walton, in Derby, hath been warned that we +shall be delivered to him two days hence. It was his servant that told +one of mine. I fear he will be a-preparing his sermons to us, all for +nothing." + +He smiled bitterly again. Robin could see the misery in this man's heart +at the thought that it was his own son who had contrived this. Mr. +Thomas had been quiet for many months, no doubt in order to strike the +more surely in his new function as "sworn man" of her Grace. Yet he +would seem to have failed. + +"We shall not get our candles then, this year either," smiled Mr. +Thomas. "Lanterns are all that we shall have." + + * * * * * + +There was not much time to be lost. Luggage had to be packed, since it +would not be safe for the three to return until at least two or three +weeks had passed; and Marjorie, besides, had to prepare a list of places +and names that must be dealt with on their way--places where word must +be left that the hunt was up again, and names of particular persons +that were to be warned. Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam were in the county, +and these must be specially informed, since they were known, and Mr. +Garlick in particular had already suffered banishment and returned +again, so that there would be no hope for him if he were once more +captured. + +The four sat late that night; and Robin wondered more than ever, not +only at the self-command of the girl, but at her extraordinary knowledge +of Catholic affairs in the county. She calculated, almost without +mistake, as was afterwards shown, not only which priests were in +Derbyshire, but within a very few miles of where they would be and at +what time: she showed, half-smiling, a kind of chart which she had drawn +up, of the movements of the persons concerned, explaining the plan by +which each priest (if he desired) might go on his own circuit where he +would be most needed. She lamented, however, the fewness of the priests, +and attributed to this the growing laxity of many families--living, it +might be, in upland farms or in inaccessible places, where they could +but very seldom have the visits of the priest and the strength of the +sacraments. + +Before midnight, therefore, the two travellers had complete directions +for their journey, as well as papers to help their memories, as to where +the news was to be left. And at last Mr. John stood up and stretched +himself. + +"We must go to bed," he said. "We must be booted by five." + +Marjorie nodded to Alice, who stood up, saying she would show him where +his bed had been prepared. + +Robin lingered for a moment to finish his last notes. + +"Mr. Alban," said Marjorie suddenly, without lifting her eyes from the +paper on which she wrote. + +"Yes?" + +"You will take care to-morrow, will you not?" she said. "Mr. John is a +little hot-headed. You must keep him to his route?" + +"I will do my best," said Robin, smiling. + +She lifted her clear eyes to his without tremor or shame. + +"My heart would be broken altogether if aught happened to you. I look to +you as our Lord's chief soldier in this county." + +"But--" + +"That is so," she said. "I do not know any man who has been made perfect +in so short a time. You hold us all in your hands." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +It was in Mr. Bassett's house at Langley that the news of the attack on +Padley reached the two travellers a month later, and it bore news in it +that they little expected. + +For it seemed that, entirely unexpectedly, there had arrived at Padley +the following night no less than three of the FitzHerbert family, Mr. +Anthony the seventh son, with two of his sisters, as well as Thomas +FitzHerbert's wife, who rode with them, whether as a spy or not was +never known. Further, Mr. Fenton himself, hearing of their coming, had +ridden up from Tansley, and missed the messenger that Marjorie had sent +out. They had not arrived till late, missing again, by a series of +mischances, the scouts Marjorie had posted; and, on discovering their +danger, had further discovered the house to be already watched. They +judged it better, therefore, as Marjorie said in her letter, to feign +unconsciousness of any charge against them, since there was no priest in +the house who could incriminate them. + +All this the travellers learned for the first time at Langley. + +They had gone through into Staffordshire, as had been arranged, and +there had moved about from house to house of Catholic friends without +any trouble. It was when at last they thought it safe to be moving +homewards, and had arrived at Langley, that they found Marjorie's letter +awaiting them. It was addressed to Mr. John FitzHerbert and was brought +by Robin's old servant, Dick Sampson. + +"The assault was made," wrote Marjorie, "according to the arrangement. +Mr. Columbell himself came with a score of men and surrounded the house +very early, having set watchers all in place the evening before: they +had made certain they should catch the master and at least a priest or +two. But I have very heavy news, for all that; for there had come to the +house after dark Mr. Anthony FitzHerbert, with two of his sisters, Mrs. +Thomas FitzHerbert and Mr. Fenton himself, and they have carried the two +gentlemen to the Derby gaol. I have had no word from Mr. Anthony, but I +hear that he said that he was glad that his father was not taken, and +that his own taking he puts down to his brother's account, as yourself, +sir, also did. The men did no great harm in Padley beyond breaking a +panel or two: they were too careful, I suppose, of what they think will +be Mr. Topcliffe's property some day! And they found none of the +hiding-holes, which is good news. The rest of the party they let go free +again for the present. + +"I have another piece of bad news, too--which is no more than what we +had looked for: that Mr. Simpson at the Assizes was condemned to death, +but has promised to go to church, so that his life is spared if he will +do so. He is still in the gaol, however, where I pray God that Mr. +Anthony may meet with him and bring him to a better mind; so that he +hath not yet denied our Lord, even though he hath promised to do so. + +"May God comfort and console you, Mr. FitzHerbert, for this news of Mr. +Anthony that I send." + + * * * * * + +The letter ended with messages to the party, with instructions for their +way of return if they should come within the next week; and with the +explanation, given above, of the series of misfortunes by which any came +to be at Padley that night, and how it was that they did not attempt to +break out again. + + * * * * * + +The capture of Mr. Anthony was, indeed, one more blow to his father; but +Robin was astonished how cheerfully he bore it; and said as much when +they two were alone in the garden. + +The grey old man smiled, while his eyelids twitched a little. + +"They say that when a man is whipped he feels no more after awhile. The +former blows prepare him and dull his nerves for the later, which, I +take it, is part of God's mercy. Well, Mr. Alban, my father hath been in +prison a great while now; my son Thomas is a traitor, and a sworn man of +her Grace; I myself have been fined and persecuted till I have had to +sell land to pay the fines with. I have seen family after family fall +from their faith and deny it. So I take it that I feel the joy that I +have a son who is ready to suffer for it, more than the pain I have in +thinking on his sufferings. The one may perhaps atone for the sins of +the other, and yet help him to repentance." + + * * * * * + +Life here at Langley was more encouraging than the furtive existence +necessary in the north of Derbyshire. + +Mr. Bassett had a confident way with him that was like wine to fainting +hearts, and he had every reason to be confident; since up to the +present, beyond being forced to pay the usual fines for recusancy, he +had scarcely been troubled at all; and lived in considerable prosperity, +having even been sheriff of Stafford in virtue of his other estates at +Blore. His house at Langley was a great one, standing in a park, and +showing no signs of poverty; his servants were largely Catholic; he +entertained priests and refugees of all kinds freely, although +discreetly; and he laughed at the notion that the persecution could be +of long endurance. + +The very first night the travellers had come he had spoken with +considerable freedom after supper. + +"Look more hearty!" he cried. "The Spanish fleet will be here before +summer to relieve us of all troubles, as of all heretics, too. Her Grace +will have to turn her coat once more, I think, when that comes to pass." + +Mr. John glanced at him doubtfully. + +"First," he said, "no man knows whether it will come. And, next, I for +one am not sure if I even wish for it." + +Mr. Bassett laughed loudly. + +"You will dance for joy!" he said. "And why do you not know whether you +wish it to come?" + +"I have no taste to be a Spanish subject." + +"Why, nor have I! But the King of Spain will but sail away again when he +hath made terms against the privateers, whether they be those that ply +on the high seas against men's bodies, or here in England against their +souls. There will be no subjection of England beyond that." + +Mr. John was silent. + +"Why, I heard from Sir Thomas but a week ago, to ask for a little money +to pay his fines with. He said that repayment should follow so soon as +the fleet should come. Those were his very words." + +"You sent the money, then?" + +"Why, yes; I made shift that a servant should throw down a bag with ten +pounds in it, into a bush, and that Brittlebank--your brother's +man--should see him do it! And lo! when we looked again, the bag was +gone!" + +He laughed again with open mouth. Certainly he was an inspiriting man +with a loud bark of his own; but Robin imagined that he would not bite +too cruelly for all that. But he saw another side of him presently. + +"What was that matter of Mr. Sutton, the priest who was executed in +Stafford last year?" asked Mr. John suddenly. + +The face of the other changed as abruptly. His eyes became pin-points +under his grey eyebrows and his mouth tightened. + +"What of him?" he said. + +"It was reported that you might have stayed the execution, and would +not. I did not believe a word of it." + +"It is true," said Mr. Bassett sharply--"at least a portion of it." + +"True?" + +"Listen," cried the other suddenly, "and tell me what you would have +done. Mr. Sutton was taken, and was banished, and came back again, as +any worthy priest would do. Then he was taken again, and condemned. I +did my utmost to save him, but I could not. Then, as I would never have +any part in the death of a priest for his religion, another was +appointed to carry the execution through. Three days before news was +brought to me by a private hand that Mr. Sutton had promised to give the +names of priests whom he knew, and of houses where he had said mass, and +I know not what else; and it was said to me that I might on this account +stay the execution until he had told all that he could. Now I knew that +I could not save his life altogether; that was forfeited and there could +be no forgiveness. All that I might do was to respite him for a +little--and for what? That he might damn his own soul eternally and +bring a great number of good men into trouble and peril of death for +themselves. I sent the messenger away again, and said that I would +listen to no such tales. And Mr. Sutton died like a good priest three +days after, repenting, I doubt not, bitterly, of the weakness into which +he had fallen. Now, sir, what would you have done in my place?" + +He wagged his face fiercely from side to side. + +Mr. John put his hand over his eyes and nodded without speaking. Robin +sat silent: it was not only for priests, it seemed, that life presented +a tangle. + + +II + +The evening before the two left for the north again, Mr. Bassett took +them both into his own study. It was a little room opening out of his +bedroom, and was more full of books than Robin had ever seen, except in +the library at Rheims, in any room in the world. A shelf ran round the +room, high on the wall, and was piled with manuscripts to the ceiling. +Beneath, the book-shelves that ran nearly round the room were packed +with volumes, and a number more lay on the table and even in the +corners. + +"This is my own privy chamber," said Mr. Bassett to the priest. "My +other friends have seen it many a time, but I thought I would show it to +your Reverence, too." + +Robin looked round him in wonder: he had no idea that his host was a man +of such learning. + +"All the books are ranged in their proper places," went on the other. "I +could put my finger on any of them blind-fold. But this is the shelf I +wished you to see." + +He took him to one that was behind the door, holding up the candle that +he might see. The shelf had a box or two on it, besides books, and these +he opened and set on the table. Robin looked in, as he was told, but +could understand nothing that he saw: in one was a round ball of crystal +on a little gold stand, wrapped round in velvet; in another some kind of +a machine with wheels; in a third, some dried substances, as of herbs, +tied together with silk. He inspected them gravely, but was not invited +to touch them. Then his host touched him on the breast with one finger, +and recoiled, smiling. + +"This is my magic," he said. "John here does not like it; neither did +poor Mr. Fenton when he was here; but I hold there is no harm in such +things if one does but observe caution." + +"What do you do with them, sir?" inquired the priest curiously, for he +was not sure whether the man was serious. + +"Well, sir, I hold that God has written His will in the stars, and in +the burning of herbs, and in the shining of the sun, and such things. +There is no black magic here. But, just as we read in the sky at +morning, if it be red or yellow, whether it will be foul or fair, so I +hold that God has written other secrets of His in other things; and that +by observing them and judging rightly we may guess what He has in store. +I knew that a prince was to die last year before ever it happened. I +knew that a fleet of ships will come to England this year, before ever +an anchor is weighed. And I would have you notice that here are Mr. +FitzHerbert and your Reverence, too, fleeing for your lives; and here +sit I safe at home; and all, as I hold, because I have been able to +observe by my magic what is to come to pass." + +"But that strikes at the doctrine of free-will," cried the priest. + +"No, sir; I think it does not. God's foreknowledge doth not hinder the +use of our free-will (which is a mystery, no doubt, yet none the less +true). Then why should God's foreknowledge any more hinder our +free-will, when He chooses to communicate it to us?" + +Robin was silent. He knew little or nothing of these things, except from +his theological reading. Yet he felt uneasy. The other said nothing. + +"And the stars, too?" he asked. + +"I hold," said Mr. Bassett, "that the stars have certain influences and +powers upon those that are born under their signs. I do not hold that we +are so ruled by these that we have no action of our own, any more than +we are compelled to be wet through by rain or scorched by the sun: we +may always come into a house or shelter beneath a tree, and thus escape +them. So, too, I hold, with the stars. There is an old saying, sir: 'The +fool is ruled by his stars; the wise man rules them.' That is, in a +nutshell, my faith in the matter. I have told Mr. Fenton's fortune here, +and Mr. FitzHerbert's, only they will never listen to me." + +Robin looked round the room. It was dark outside long ago; they had +supped at sunset, and sat for half an hour over their banquet of +sweetmeats and wine before coming upstairs. And the room, too, was as +dark as night, except where far off in the west, beyond the tall trees +of the park, a few red streaks lingered. He felt oppressed and +miserable. The place seemed to him sinister. He hated these fumblings at +locks that were surely meant to remain closed. Yet he did not know what +to say. Mr. John had wandered off to one of the windows and was humming +uneasily to himself. + +Then, suddenly, an intense curiosity overcame him. + +His life was a strange and perilous one; he carried it in his hand every +day. In the morning he could not be sure but that he would be fleeing +before evening. As he fell asleep, he could not be sure that he would +not be awakened to a new dream. He had long ago conquered those moods of +terror which, in spite of his courage, had come down on him sometimes, +in some lonely farm, perhaps, where flight would be impossible--or, in +what was far more dangerous, in some crowded inn where every movement +was known--these had passed, he thought, never to come back. + +But in that little book-lined room, with these curious things in boxes +on the table, and his merry host peering at him gravely, and the still +evening outside; with the knowledge that to-morrow he was to ride back +to his own country, whence he had fled for fear of his life, six weeks +ago; leaving the security of this ex-sheriff's house for the perils of +the Peak and all that suspected region from which even now, probably, +the pursuit had not altogether died away--here a sudden intense desire +to know what the future might hold overcame him. + +"Tell me, sir," he said. "You have told Mr. FitzHerbert's fortune, you +say, as well as others. Have you told mine since I have been here?" + +There was a moment's silence. Mr. John was silent, with his back turned. +Robin looked up at his host, wondering why he did not answer. Then Mr. +Bassett took up the candle. + +"Come," he said; "we have been here long enough." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +"There will be a company of us to-night," said Mr. John to the two +priests, as he helped them to dismount. "Mr. Alban has sent his man +forward from Derby to say that he will be here before night." + +"Mr. Ludlam and I are together for once," said Mr. Garlick. "We must +separate again to-morrow, he is for the north again, he tells me. There +has been no more trouble?" + +"Not a word of it. They were beaten last time and will not try again, I +think, for the present. You heard of the attempt at Candlemas, then?" + + * * * * * + +It had been a quiet time enough ever since Lent, throughout the whole +county; and it seemed as if the heat of the assault had cooled for want +of success. Plainly a great deal had been staked upon the attack on +Padley, which, for its remoteness from towns, was known to be a +meeting-place where priests could always find harbourage. And, indeed, +it was time that the Catholics should have a little breathing space. +Things had been very bad with them--the arrest of Mr. Simpson, and, +still more, his weakness (though he had not as yet actually fulfilled +his promise of going to church, and was still detained in gaol); the +growing lukewarmness of families that seldom saw a priest; the blows +struck at the FitzHerbert family; and, above all, the defection of Mr. +Thomas--all these things had brought the hearts of the faithful very +low. Mr. John himself had had an untroubled time since his return a +little before Easter; but he had taken the precaution not to remain too +long at Padley at one time; he had visited his other estates at +Swynnerton and elsewhere, and had even been back again at Langley. But +there had been no hint of any pursuit. Padley had remained untouched; +the men went about their farm business; the housekeeper peered from her +windows, without a glimpse of armed men such as had terrified the +household on Candlemas day. + +It was only last night, indeed, that the master had returned, in time to +meet the two priests who had asked for shelter for a day or two. They +had stayed here before continually, as well as at Booth's Edge, during +their travels, both in the master's absence and when he was at home. +There were a couple of rooms kept vacant always for "men of God"; and +all priests who came were instructed, of course (in case of necessity), +as to the hiding-holes that Mr. Owen had contrived a few years before. +Never, however, had there been any use made of them. + + * * * * * + +It was a hot July afternoon when the two priests were met to-day by Mr. +John outside the arched gate that ran between the hall and the buttery. +They had already dined at a farm a few miles down the valley, but they +were taken round the house at once to the walled garden, where drink and +food were set out. Here their dusty boots were pulled off; they laid +aside their hats, and were presently at their ease again. + +They were plain men, these two; though Mr. Garlick had been educated at +Oxford, and, before his going to Rheims, had been schoolmaster at +Tideswell. In appearance he was a breezy sunburnt man, with very little +of the clerk about him, and devoted to outdoor sports (which was +something of a disguise to him since he could talk hawking and riding +in mixed company with a real knowledge of the facts). He spoke in a loud +voice with a strong Derbyshire accent, which he had never lost and now +deliberately used. Mr. Ludlam looked far more of the priest: he was a +clean-shaven man, of middle-age, with hair turning to grey on his +temples, and with a very pleasant disarming smile; he spoke very little, +but listened with an interested and attentive air. Both were, of course, +dressed in the usual riding costume of gentlemen, and used good horses. + +It was exceedingly good to sit here, with the breeze from over the moors +coming down on them, with cool drink before them, and the prospect of a +secure day, at any rate, in this stronghold. Their host, too, was +contented and serene, and said so, frankly. + +"I am more at peace, gentlemen," he said, "than I have been for the past +five years. My son is in gaol yet; and I am proud that he should be +there, since my eldest son--" (he broke off a moment). "And I think the +worst of the storm is over. Her Grace is busying herself with other +matters." + +"You mean the Spanish fleet, sir?" said Mr. Garlick. + +He nodded. + +"It is not that I look for final deliverance from Spain," he said. "I +have no wish to be aught but an Englishman, as I said to Mr. Bassett a +while ago. But I think the fleet will distract her Grace for a while; +and it may very well mean that we have better treatment hereafter." + +"What news is there, sir?" + +"I hear that the Londoners buzz continually with false alarms. It was +thought that the fleet might arrive on any day; but I understand that +the fishing-boats say that nothing as yet been seen. By the end of the +month, I daresay, we shall have news." + +So they talked pleasantly in the shade till the shadows began to +lengthen. They were far enough here from the sea-coast to feel somewhat +detached from the excitement that was beginning to seethe in the south. +At Plymouth, it was said, all had been in readiness for a month or two +past; at Tilbury, my lord Leicester was steadily gathering troops. But +here, inland, it was more of an academic question. The little happenings +in Derby; the changes of weather in the farms; the deaths of old people +from the summer heats--these things were far more vital and significant +than the distant thunders of Spain. A beacon or two had been piled on +the hills, by order of the authorities, to pass on the news when it +should come; a few lads had disappeared from the countryside to drill in +Derby marketplace; but except for these things, all was very much as it +had been from the beginning. The expected catastrophe meant little more +to such folk than the coming of the Judgment Day--certain, but +infinitely remote from the grasp of the imagination. + + * * * * * + +The three were talking of Robin as they came down towards the house for +supper, and, as they turned the corner, he himself was at that moment +dismounting. + +He looked surprisingly cool and well-trimmed, considering his ride up +the hot valley. He had taken his journey easily, he said, as he had had +a long day yesterday. + +"And I made a round to pay a visit to Mistress Manners," he said. "I +found her a-bed when I got there; and Mrs. Alice says she will not be at +mass to-morrow. She stood too long in the sun yesterday, at the carrying +of the hay; it is no more than that." + +"Mistress Manners is a marvel to me," said Garlick, as they went towards +the house. "Neither wife nor nun. And she rules her house like a man; +and she knows if a priest lift his little finger in Derby. She sent me +my whole itinerary for this last circuit of mine; and every point fell +out as she said." + + * * * * * + +Robin thought that he had seldom had so pleasant a supper as on that +night. The windows of the low hall where he had dined so often as a boy, +were flung wide to catch the scented evening air. The sun was round to +the west and threw long, golden rays, that were all lovely light and no +heat, slantways on the paved floor and the polished tables and the +bright pewter. Down at the lower end sat the servants, brown men, burned +by the sun; lean as panthers, scarcely speaking, ravenous after their +long day in the hayfields; and up here three companions with whom he was +wholly at his ease. The evening was as still as night, except for the +faint peaceful country sounds that came up from the valley below--the +song of a lad riding home; the barking of a dog; the bleat of sheep--all +minute and delicate, as unperceived, yet as effective, as a rich fabric +on which a design is woven. It seemed to him as he listened to the +talk--the brisk, shrewd remarks of Mr. Garlick; the courteous and rather +melancholy answers of his host; as he watched the second priest's eyes +looking gently and pleasantly about him; as he ate the plain, good food +and drank the country drink, that, in spite of all, his lot was cast in +very sweet places. There was not a hint here of disturbance, or of men's +passions, or of ugly strife: there was no clatter, as in the streets of +Derby, or pressure of humanity, or wearying politics of the +market-place. He found himself in one of those moods that visit all men +sometimes, when the world appears, after all, a homely and a genial +place; when the simplest things are the best; when no excitement or +ambition or furious zeal can compare with the gentle happiness of a +tired body that is in the act of refreshment, or of a driven mind that +is finding its relaxation. At least, he said to himself, he would enjoy +this night and the next day and the night after, with all his heart. + + * * * * * + +The four found themselves so much at ease here, that the dessert was +brought in to them where they sat; and it was then that the first +unhappy word was spoken. + +"Mr. Simpson!" said Garlick suddenly. "Is there any more news of him?" + +Mr. John shook his head. + +"He hath not yet been to church, thank God!" he said. "So much I know +for certain. But he hath promised to go." + +"Why is he not yet gone? He promised a great while ago." + +"I hear he hath been sick. Derby gaol is a pestiferous place. They are +waiting, I suppose, till he is well enough to go publicly, that all the +world may be advertised of it!" + +Mr. Garlick gave a bursting sigh. + +"I cannot understand it at all," he said. "There has never been so +zealous a priest. I have ridden with him again and again before I was a +priest. He was always quiet; but I took him to be one of those +stout-hearted souls that need never brag. Why, it was here that we heard +him tell of Mr. Nelson's death!" + +Mr. John threw out his hands. + +"These prisons are devilish," he said; "they wear a man out as the rack +can never do. Why, see my son!" he cried. "Oh! I can speak of him if I +am but moved enough! It was that same Derby gaol that wore him out too! +It is the darkness, and the ill food, and the stenches and the misery. A +man's heart fails him there, who could face a thousand deaths in the +sunlight. Man after man hath fallen there--both in Derby, and in London +and in all the prisons. It is their heart that goes--all the courage +runs from them like water, with their health. If it were the rack and +the rope only, England would be Catholic, yet, I think." + +The old man's face blazed with indignation; it was not often that he so +spoke out his mind. It was very easy to see that he had thought +continually of his son's fall. + +"Mistress Manners hath told me the very same thing," said Robin. "She +visited Mr. Thomas in gaol once at least. She said that her heart failed +her altogether there." + +Mr. Ludlam smiled. + +"I suppose it is so," he said gently, "since you say so. But I think it +would not be so with me. The rack and the rope, rather, are what would +shake me to the roots, unless God His Grace prevailed more than it ever +yet hath with see." + +He smiled again. + +Robin shook his head sharply. + +"As for me--!" he said grimly, with tight lips. + + * * * * * + +It was a lovely night of stars as the four stepped out of the archway +before going upstairs to the parlour. Behind them stood the square and +solid house, resembling a very fortress. The lights that had been +brought in still shone through the windows, and a hundred night insects +leapt and poised in the brightness. + +And before them lay the deep valley--silent now except for the trickle +of the stream; dark (since the moon was not yet risen), except for one +light that burned far away in some farm-house on the other side; and +this light went out, like a closing eye, even as they looked. But +overhead, where God dwelt, all heaven was alive. The huge arch resting, +as it appeared, on the monstrous bases of the moors and hills standing +round this place, like the mountains about Jerusalem, was one shimmering +vault of glory, as if it was there that the home of life had its place, +and this earth beneath but a bedroom for mortals, or for those that were +too weary to aspire or climb. The suggestion was enormously powerful. +Here was this mortal earth that needed rest so cruelly--that must have +darkness to refresh its tired eyes, coolness to recuperate its passion, +and silence, if ever its ears were to hear again. But there was radiance +unending. All day a dome of rigid blue; all night a span of glittering +lights--the very home of a glory that knows no waste and that therefore +needs no reviving: it was to that only, therefore, that a life must be +chained which would not falter or fail in the unending tides and changes +of the world.... + +A soft breeze sprang up among the tops of the chestnuts; and the sound +was as of the going of a great company that whispered for silence. + + +II + +It was within an hour of dawn that the first mass was said next morning +by Mr. Robert Alban. + +The chapel was decked out as they seldom dared to deck it in those days; +but the failure of the last attempt on this place, and the peace that +had followed, made them bold. + +The carved chest of newly-cut oak was in its place, with a rich carpet +of silk spread on its face; and, on the top, the three linen cloths as +prescribed by the Ritual. Two silver candlesticks, that stood usually on +the high shelf over the hall-fire, and a silver crucifix of Flemish +work, taken from the hiding-place, were in a row on the back, with red +and white flowers, between. Beneath the linen cloths a tiny flat +elevation showed where the altar stone lay. The rest of the chapel, in +its usual hangings, had only sweet herbs on the floor; with two or three +long seats carried up from the hall below. An extraordinary sweetness +and peace seemed in the place both to the senses and the soul of the +young priest as he went up to the altar to vest. Confessions had been +heard last night; and, as he turned, in the absolute stillness of the +morning, and saw, beneath those carved angels that still to-day lean +from the beams of the roof, the whole little space already filled with +farm-lads, many of whom were to approach the altar presently, and the +grey head of their master kneeling on the floor to answer the mass, it +appeared to him as if the promise of last night were reversed, and that +it was, after all, earth rather than heaven that proclaimed the peace +and the glory of God.... + + * * * * * + +Robin served the second mass himself, said by Mr. Garlick, and made his +thanksgiving as well as he could meanwhile; but he found what appeared +to him at the time many distractions, in watching the tanned face and +hands of the man who was so utterly a countryman for nine-tenths of his +life, and so utterly a priest for the rest. His very sturdiness and +breeziness made his reverence the more evident and pathetic: he read the +mass rapidly, in a low voice, harshened by shouting in the open air over +his sports, made his gestures abruptly, and yet did the whole with an +extraordinary attention. After the communion, when he turned for the +wine and water, his face, as so often with rude folk in a great emotion, +browned as it was with wind and sun, seemed lighted from within; he +seemed etherealized, yet with his virility all alive in him. A phrase, +wholly inapplicable in its first sense, came irresistibly to the younger +priest's mind as he waited on him. "When the strong man, armed, keepeth +his house, his goods are in peace." + +Robin heard the third mass, said by Mr. Ludlam, from a corner near the +door; and this one, too, was a fresh experience. The former priest had +resembled a strong man subdued by grace; the second, a weak man ennobled +by it. Mr. Ludlam was a delicate soul, smiling often, as has been said, +and speaking little--"a mild man," said the countryfolk. Yet, at the +altar there was no weakness in him; he was as a keen, sharp blade, +fitted as a heavy knife cannot be, for fine and peculiar work. His +father had been a yeoman, as had the other's; yet there must have been +some unusual strain of blood in him, so deft and gentle he was--more at +his ease here at God's Table than at the table of any man.... So he, +too, finished his mass, and began to unvest.... + +Then, with a noise as brutal as a blasphemy, there came a thunder of +footsteps on the stairs; and a man burst into the room, with glaring +eyes and rough gestures. + +"There is a company of men coming up from the valley," he cried; "and +another over the moor.... And it is my lord Shrewsbury's livery." + + +III + +In an instant all was in confusion; and the peace had fled. Mr. John was +gone; and his voice could be heard on the open stairs outside speaking +rapidly in sharp, low whispers to the men gathered beneath; and, +meanwhile, three or four servants, two men and a couple of maids, +previously drilled in their duties, were at the altar, on which Mr. +Ludlam had but that moment laid down his amice. The three priests stood +together waiting, fearing to hinder or to add to the bustle. A low +wailing rose from outside the door; and Robin looked from it to see if +there were anything he could do. But it was only a little country +servant crouching on the tiny landing that united the two sets of stairs +from the court, with her apron over her head: she must have been in the +partitioned west end of the chapel to hear the mass. He said a word to +her; and the next instant was pushed aside, as a man tore by bearing a +great bundle of stuffs--vestments and the altar cloths. When he turned +again, the chapel was become a common room once more: the chest stood +bare, with a great bowl of flowers on it; the candlesticks were gone; +and the maid was sweeping up the herbs. + +"Come, gentlemen," said a sharp voice at the door, "there is no time to +lose." + +He went out with the two others behind, and followed Mr. John +downstairs. Already the party of servants was dispersed to their +stations; two or three to keep the doors, no doubt, and the rest back to +kitchen work and the like, to give the impression that all was as usual. + +The four went straight down into the hall, to find it empty, except for +one man who stood by the fire-place. But a surprising change had taken +place here. Instead of the solemn panelling, with the carved shield that +covered the wall over the hearth, there was a great doorway opened, +through which showed, not the bricks of the chimney-breast, but a black +space large enough to admit a man. + +"See here," said Mr. John, "there is room for two here, but no more. +There is room for a third in another little chamber upstairs that is +nearly joined on to this: but it is not so good. Now, gentlemen--" + +"This is the safer of the two?" asked Robin abruptly. + +"I think it to be so. Make haste, gentlemen." + +Robin wheeled on the others. He said that there was no time to argue in. + +"See!" he said. "I have not yet been taken at all. Mr. Garlick hath +been taken; and Mr. Ludlam hath had a warning. There is no question that +you must be here." + +"I utterly refuse--" began Garlick. + +Robin went to the door in three strides; and was out of it. He closed +the door behind him and ran upstairs. As he reached the head his eye +caught a glint of sunlight on some metal far up on the moor beyond the +belt of trees. He did not turn his head again; he went straight in and +waited. + +Presently he heard steps coming up, and Mr. John appeared smiling and +out of breath. + +"I have them in," he said, "by promising that there was no great +difference after all; and that there was no time. Now, sir--" And he +went towards the wall at which, long ago, Mr. Owen had worked so hard. + +"And yourself, sir?" asked Robin, as once more an innocent piece of +panelling moved outwards under Mr. John's hand. + +"I'll see to that; but not until you are in--" + +"But--" + +The old man's face blazed suddenly up. + +"Obey me, if you please. I am the master here. I tell you I have a very +good place." + +There was no more to be said. Robin advanced to the opening, and sat +down to slide himself in. It was a little door about two feet square, +with a hole beneath it. + +"Drop gently, Mr. Alban," whispered the voice in his ear. "The altar +vessels are at the bottom, with the crucifix, on some soft stuff.... +That is it. Slide in and let yourself slip. There is some food and drink +there, too." + +Robin did so. The floor of the little chamber was about five feet down, +and he could feel woodwork on all three sides of him. + +"When the door is closed," said the voice from the daylight, "push a +pair of bolts on right and left till they go home. Tap upon the shutter +when it is done." + +The light vanished, and Robin was aware of a faint smell of smoke. Then +he remembered that he had noticed a newly lit fire on the hearth of the +hall.... He found the bolts, pushed them, and tapped lightly three +times. He heard a hand push on the shutter to see that all was secure, +and then footsteps go away over the floor on a level with his chin. + +Then he remembered that he must be in the same chamber with his two +fellow-priests, separated from them by the flooring on which he stood. +He rapped gently with his foot twice. Two soft taps came back. Silence +followed. + + +IV + +Time, as once before in his experience, seemed wholly banished from this +place. There were moments of reflection when he appeared to himself as +having but just entered; there were other moments when he might have +been here for an eternity that had no divisions to mark it. He was in +complete and utter darkness. There was not a crack anywhere in the +woodwork (so perfect had been the young carpenter's handiwork) by which +even a glimmer of light could enter. A while ago he had been in the +early morning sunlight; now he might be in the grave. + +For a while his emotions and his thoughts raced one another, tumbling in +inextricable confusion; and they were all emotions and thoughts of the +present: intense little visions of the men closing round the house, +cutting off escape from the valley on the one side and from the wild +upland country on the other; questions as to where Mr. John would hide +himself; minute sensible impressions of the smoky flavour of the air, +the unplaned woodwork, the soft stuffs beneath his feet. Then they began +to extend themselves wider, all with that rapid unjarring swiftness: he +foresaw the bursting in of his stronghold; the footsteps within three +inches of his head; the crash as the board was kicked in: then the +capture; the ride to Derby, bound on a horse; the gaol; the questioning; +the faces of my lord Shrewsbury and the magistrates ... and the end.... + +There were moments when the sweat ran down his face, when he bit his +lips in agony, and nearly moaned aloud. There were others in which he +abandoned himself to Christ crucified; placed himself in Everlasting +Hands that were mighty enough to pluck him not only out of this snare, +but from the very hands that would hold him so soon; Hands that could +lift him from the rack and scaffold and set him a free man among his +hills again: yet that had not done so with a score of others whom he +knew. He thought of these, and of the girl who had done so much to save +them all, who was now saved herself by sickness, a mile or two away, +from these hideous straits. Then he dragged out Mr. Maine's beads and +began to recite the "Mysteries."... + + * * * * * + +There broke in suddenly the first exterior sign that the hunters were on +them--a muffled hammering far beneath his feet. There were pauses; then +voices carried up from the archway nearly beneath through the hollowed +walls; then hammering again; but all was heard as through wool. + +As the first noise broke out his mind rearranged itself and seemed to +have two consciousnesses. In the foreground he followed, intently and +eagerly, every movement below; in the background, there still moved +before him the pageant of deeper thoughts and more remote--of prayer and +wonder and fear and expectation; and from that onwards it continued so +with him. Even while he followed the sounds, he understood why my lord +Shrewsbury had made this assault so suddenly, after months of peace.... +He perceived the hand of Thomas FitzHerbert, too, in the precision with +which the attack had been made, and the certain information he must have +given that priests would be in Padley that morning. + +There were noises that he could not interpret--vague tramplings from a +direction which he could not tell; voices that shouted; the sound of +metal on stone. + +He did interpret rightly, however, the sudden tumult as the gate was +unbarred at last, and the shrill screaming of a woman as the company +poured through into the house; the clamour of voices from beneath as the +hall below was filled with men; the battering that began almost +immediately; and, finally, the rush of shod feet up the outside +staircases, one of which led straight into the chapel itself. Then, +indeed, his heart seemed to spring upwards into his throat, and to beat +there, as loud as knocking, so loud that it appeared to him that all the +house must hear it. + + * * * * * + +Yet it was still some minutes before the climax came to him. He was +still standing there, listening to voices talking, it seemed, almost in +his ears, yet whose words he could not hear; the vibration of feet that +shook the solid joist against which he had leaned his head, with closed +eyes; the brush of a cloak once, like a whisper, against the very panel +that shut him in. He could attend to nothing else; the rest of the drama +was as nothing to him: he had his business in hand--to keep away from +himself, by the very intentness of his will and determination, the feet +that passed so close. + +The climax came in a sudden thump of a pike foot within a yard of his +head, so imminent, that for an instant he thought it was at his own +panel. There followed a splintering sound of a pike-head in the same +place. He understood. They were sounding on the woodwork and piercing +all that rang hollow.... His turn, then, would come immediately. + +Talking voices followed the crash; then silence; then the vibration of +feet once more. The strain grew unbearable; his fingers twisted tight in +his rosary, lifted themselves once or twice from the floor edge on which +they were gripped, to tear back the bolts and declare himself. It seemed +to him in those instants a thousand times better to come out of his own +will, rather than to be poked and dragged from his hole like a badger. +In the very midst of such imaginings there came a thumping blow within +three inches of his face, and then silence. He leaned back desperately +to avoid the pike-thrust that must follow, with his eyes screwed tight +and his lips mumbling. He waited;... and then, as he waited, he drew an +irrepressible hissing breath of terror, for beneath the soft padding +under his feet he could feel movements; blow follow blow, from the same +direction, and last a great clamour of voices all shouting together. + +Feet ran across the floor on which his hands were gripped again, and +down the stairs. He perceived two things: the chapel was empty again, +and the priests below had been found. + + +V + +He could follow every step of the drama after that, for he appeared to +himself now as a mere witness, without personal part in it. + +First, there were voices below him, so clear and close that he could +distinguish the intonation, and who it was that spoke, though the words +were inaudible. + +It was Mr. Garlick who first spoke--a sentence of a dozen words, it +might be, consenting, no doubt, to come out without being dragged; +congratulating, perhaps (as the manner was), the searchers on their +success. A murmur of answer came back, and then one sharp, peevish voice +by itself. Again Mr. Garlick spoke, and there followed the shuffling of +movements for a long while; and then, so far as the little chamber was +concerned, empty silence. But from the hall rose up a steady murmur of +talk once more.... + +Again Robin's heart leaped in him, for there came the rattle of a +pike-end immediately below his feet. They were searching the little +chamber beneath, from the level of the hall, to see if it were empty. +The pike was presently withdrawn. + +For a long while the talking went on. So far as the rest of the house +was concerned, the hidden man could tell nothing, or whether Mr. John +were taken, or whether the search were given up. He could not even fix +his mind on the point; he was constructing for himself, furiously and +intently, the scene he imagined in the hall below; he thought he saw the +two priests barred in behind the high table; my lord Shrewsbury in the +one great chair in the midst of the room; Mr. Columbell, perhaps, or Mr. +John Manners talking in his ear; the men on guard over the, priests and +beside the door; and another, maybe, standing by the hearth. + +He was so intent on this that he thought of little else; though still, +on a strange background of another consciousness, moved scenes and ideas +such as he had had at the beginning. And he was torn from this +contemplation with the suddenness of a blow, by a voice speaking, it +seemed, within a foot of his head. + +"Well, we have those rats, at any rate." + +(He perceived instantly what had happened. The men were back again in +the chapel, and he had not heard them come. He supposed that he could +hear the words now, because of the breaking of the panel next to his +own.) + +"Ralph said he was sure of the other one, too," said a second voice. + +"Which was that one?" + +"The fellow that was at Fotheringay." + +(Robin clenched his teeth like iron.) + +"Well, he is not here." + +There was silence. + +"I have sounded that side," said the first voice sharply. + +"Well, but--" + +"I tell you I have sounded it. There is no time to be lost. My lord--" + +"Hark!" said the second voice. "There is my lord's man--" + +There followed a movement of feet towards the door, as it seemed to the +priest. + +He could hear the first man grumbling to himself, and beating listlessly +on the walls somewhere. Then a voice called something unintelligible +from the direction of the stairs; the beating ceased, and footsteps went +across the floor again into silence. + + +VI + +He was dazed and blinded by the light when, after infinite hours, he +drew the bolts and slid the panel open. + + * * * * * + +He had lost all idea of time utterly: he did not know whether he should +find that night had come, or that the next day had dawned. He had waited +there, period after period; he marked one of them by eating food that +had no taste and drinking liquid that stung his throat but did not +affect his palate; he had marked another by saying compline to himself +in a whisper. + +During the earlier part of those periods he had followed--he thought +with success--the dreadful drama that was acted in the house. Someone +had made a formal inspection of all the chambers--a man who said little +and moved heavily with something of a limp (he had thought this to be my +lord Shrewsbury himself, who suffered from the gout): this man had +walked slowly through the chapel and out again. + +At a later period he had heard the horses being brought round the house; +heard plainly the jingle of the bits and a sneeze or two. This had been +followed by long interminable talking, muffled and indistinguishable, +that came up to him from some unknown direction. Voices changed +curiously in loudness and articulation as the speakers moved about. + +At a later period a loud trampling had begun again, plainly from the +hall: he had interpreted this to mean that the prisoners were being +removed out of doors; and he had been confirmed in this by hearing +immediately afterwards again the stamping of horses and the creaking of +leather. + +Again there had been a pause, broken suddenly by loud women's wailing. +And at last the noise of horses moving off; the noise grew less; a man +ran suddenly through the archway and out again, and, little by little, +complete silence once more. + +Yet he had not dared to move. It was the custom, he knew, sometimes to +leave three or four men on guard for a day or two after such an assault, +in the hope of starving out any hidden fugitives that might still be +left. So he waited again--period after period; he dozed a little for +weariness, propped against the narrow walls of his hidinghole; woke; +felt again for food and found he had eaten it all ... dozed again. + +Then he had started up suddenly, for without any further warning there +had come a tiny indeterminate tapping against his panel. He held his +breath and listened. It came again. Then fearlessly he drew back the +bolts, slid the panel open and shut his eyes, dazzled by the light. + +He crawled out at last, spent and dusty. There was looking at him only +the little red-eyed maid whom he had tried to comfort at some far-off +hour in his life. Her face was all contorted with weeping, and she had a +great smear of dust across it. + +"What time is it?" he said. + +"It ... it is after two o'clock," she whispered. + +"They have all gone?" + +She nodded, speechless. + +"Whom have they taken?" + +"Mr. FitzHerbert ... the priests ... the servants." + +"Mr. FitzHerbert? They found him, then?" + +She stared at him with the dull incapacity to understand why he did not +know all that she had seen. + +"Where did they find him?" he repeated sharply. + +"The master ... he opened the door to them himself." + +Her face writhed itself again into grotesque lines, and she broke out +into shrill wailing and weeping. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +Marjorie was still in bed when the news was brought her by her friend. +She did not move or speak when Mistress Alice said shortly that Mr. +FitzHerbert had been taken with ten of his servants and two priests. + +"You understand, my dear.... They have ridden away to Derby, all of them +together. But they may come back here suddenly." + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam were in the chimney-hole of the hall," +whispered Mistress Alice, glancing fearfully behind her. + +Marjorie lay back again on her pillows. + +"And what of Mr. Alban?" she asked. + +"Mr. Alban was upstairs. They missed him. He is coming here after dark, +the maid says." + + * * * * * + +An hour after supper-time the priest came quietly upstairs to the +parlour. He showed no signs of his experience, except perhaps by a +certain brightness in his eyes and an extreme self-repression of manner. +Marjorie was up to meet him; and had in her hands a paper. She hardly +spoke a single expression of relief at his safety. She was as quiet and +business-like as ever. + +"You must lie here to-night," she said. "Janet hath your room ready. At +one o'clock in the morning you must ride: here is a map of your journey. +They may come back suddenly. At the place I have marked here with red +there is a shepherd's hut; you cannot miss it if you follow the track I +have marked. There will be meat and drink there. At night the shepherd +will come from the westwards; he is called David, and you may trust him. +You must lie there two weeks at least." + +"I must have news of the other priests," he said. + +Marjorie bowed her head. + +"I will send a letter to you by Dick Sampson at the end of two weeks. +Until that I can promise nothing. They may have spies round the house by +this time to-morrow, or even earlier. And I will send in that letter any +news I can get from Derby." + +"How shall I find my way?" asked Robin. + +"Until it is light you will be on ground that you know." (She flushed +slightly.) "Do you remember the hawking, that time after Christmas? It +is all across that ground. When daylight comes you can follow this map." +(She named one or two landmarks, pointing to them on the map.) "You must +have no lantern." + +They talked a few minutes longer as to the way he must go and the +provision that would be ready for him. He must take no mass requisites +with him. David had made that a condition. Then Robin suddenly changed +the subject. + +"Had my father any hand in this affair at Padley?" + +"I am certain he had not." + +"They will execute Mr. Garlick and Mr. Ludlam, will they not?" + +She bowed her head in assent. + +"The Summer Assizes open on the eighteenth," she said. "There is no +doubt as to how all will go." + +Robin rose. + +"It is time I were in bed," he said, "if I must ride at one." + +The two women knelt for his blessing. + +At one o'clock Marjorie heard the horse brought round. She stepped +softly to the window, knowing herself to be invisible, and peeped out. + +All was as she had ordered. There was no light of any kind: she could +make out but dimly in the summer darkness the two figures of horse and +groom. As she looked, a third figure appeared beneath; but there was no +word spoken that she could hear. This third figure mounted. She caught +her breath as she heard the horse scurry a little with freshness, since +every sound seemed full of peril. Then the mounted figure faded one way +into the dark, and the groom another. + + +II + +It was two weeks to the day that Robin received his letter. + + * * * * * + +He had never before been so long in utter solitude; for the visits of +David did not break it; and, for other men, he saw none except a +hog-herd or two in the distance once or twice. The shepherd came but +once a day, carrying a great jug and a parcel of food, and set them down +without the hut; he seemed to avoid even looking within; but merely took +the empty jug of the day before and went away again. He was an old, bent +man, with a face like a limestone cliff, grey and weather-beaten; he +lived half the year up here in the wild Peak country, caring for a few +sheep, and going down to the village not more than once or twice a week. +There was a little spring welling up in a hollow not fifty yards away +from the hut, which itself stood in a deep, natural rift among the high +hills, so that men might search for it a lifetime and not come across +it. + +Robin's daily round was very simple. He had leave to make a fire by day, +but he must extinguish it at night lest its glow should be seen, so he +began his morning by mixing a little oatmeal, and then preparing his +dinner. About noon, so near as he could judge by the sun, he dined; +sometimes off a partridge or rabbit; on Fridays off half a dozen tiny +trout; and set aside part of the cold food for supper; he had one good +loaf of nearly black bread every day, and the single jug of small beer. + +The greater part of the day he spent within the hut, for safety's sake, +sleeping a little, and thinking a good deal. He had no books with him; +even his breviary had been forbidden, since David, as a shrewd man, had +made conditions, first that he should not have to speak with any +refugee, second, that if the man were a priest he should have nothing +about him that could prove him to be so. Mr. Maine's beads, only, had +been permitted, on condition that they were hidden always beneath a +stone outside the hut. + +After nightfall Robin went out to attend to his horse that was tethered +in the next ravine, over a crag; to shift his peg and bring him a good +armful of cut grass and a bucket of water. (The saddle and bridle were +hidden beneath a couple of great stones that leaned together not far +away.) After doing what was necessary for his horse, he went to draw +water for himself; and then took his exercise, avoiding carefully, +according to instructions, every possible skyline. And it was then, for +the most part, that he did his clear thinking.... He tried to fancy +himself in a fortnight's retreat, such as he had had at Rheims before +his reception of orders. + + * * * * * + +The evening of the twenty-fifth of July closed in stormy; and Robin, in +an old cloak he had found placed in the hut for his own use, made haste +to attend to what was necessary, and hurried back as quickly as he +could. He sat a while, listening to the thresh of the rain and the cry +of the wind; for, up here in the high land the full storm broke on him. +(The hut was wattled of osiers and clay, and kept out the wet tolerably +well.) + +He could see nothing from the door of his hut except the dim outline of +the nearer crag thirty or forty yards off; and he went presently to bed. + + * * * * * + +He awoke suddenly, wide awake--as is easy for a man who is sleeping in +continual expectation of an alarm--at the flash of light in his eyes. +But he was at once reassured by Dick's voice. + +"I have come, sir; and I have brought the mistress' letter." + +Robin sat up and took the packet. He saw now that the man carried a +little lantern with a slide over it that allowed only a thin funnel of +light to escape that could be shut off in an instant. + +"All well, Dick? I did not hear you coming." + +"The storm's too loud, sir." + +"All well?" + +"Mistress Manners thinks you had best stay here a week longer, sir." + +"And ... and the news?" + +"It is all in the letter, sir." + +Robin looked for the inscription, but there was none. Then he broke the +two seals, opened the paper and began to read. For the next five minutes +there was no sound, except the thresh of the rain and the cry of the +wind. The letter ran as follows: + + +III + +"Three more have glorified God to-day by a good confession--Mr. Garlick, +Mr. Ludlam and Mr. Simpson. That is the summary. The tale in detail +hath been brought to me to-day by an eye-witness. + +"The trial went as all thought it would. There was never the least +question of it; for not only were the two priests taken with signs of +their calling upon them, but both of them had been in the hands of the +magistrates before. There was no shrinking nor fear showed of any kind. +But the chief marvel was that these two priests met with Mr. Simpson in +the gaol; they put them together in one room, I think, hoping that Mr. +Simpson would prevail upon them to do as he had promised to do; but, by +the grace of God, it was all the other way, and it was they who +prevailed upon Mr. Simpson to confess himself again openly as a +Catholic. This greatly enraged my lord Shrewsbury and the rest; so that +there was less hope than ever of any respite, and sentence was passed +upon them all together, Mr. Simpson showing, at the reading of it, as +much courage as any. This was all done two days ago at the Assizes; and +it was to-day that the sentence was carried out. + +"They were all three drawn on hurdles together to the open space by St. +Mary's Bridge, where all was prepared, with gallows and cauldron and +butchering block; and a great company went after them. I have not heard +that they spoke much, on the way, except that a friend of Mr. Garlick's +cried out to him to remember that they had often shot off together on +the moors; to which Mr. Garlick made answer merrily that it was true; +but that 'I am now to shoot off such a shot as I never shot in all my +life.' He was merry at the trial, too, I hear; and said that 'he was not +come to seduce men, but rather to induce them to the Catholic religion, +that to this end he had come to the country, and for this that he would +work so long as he lived.' And this he did on the scaffold, speaking to +the crowd about him of the salvation of their souls, and casting papers, +which he had written in prison, in proof of the Catholic faith. + +"Mr. Garlick went up the ladder first, kissing and embracing it as the +instrument of his death, and to encourage Mr. Simpson, as it was +thought, since some said he showed signs of timorousness again when he +came to the place. But he showed none when his turn came, but rather +exhibited the same courage as them both. Mr. Ludlam stood by smiling +while all was done; and smiling still when his turn came. His last words +were, '_Venite benedicti Dei_'; and this he said, seeming to see a +vision of angels come to bear his soul away. + +"They were cut down, all three of them, before they were dead; and the +butchery done on them according to sentence; yet none of them cried out +or made the least sound; and their heads and quarters were set up +immediately afterwards on poles in divers places of Derby; some of them +above the house that stands on the bridge and others on the bridge +itself. But these, I hear, will not be there long. + +"So these three have kept the faith and finished their course with joy. +_Laus Deo_. Mr. John is in ward, for harbouring of the priests; but +nothing hath been done to him yet. + +"As for your reverence, I am of opinion that you had best wait another +week where you are. There has been a man or two seen hereabouts whom +none knew, as well as at Padley. It hath been certified, too, that Mr. +Thomas was at the root of it all, that he gave the information that Mr. +John and at least a priest or two would be at Padley at that time, +though no man knows how he knew it, unless through servants' talk; and +since Mr. Thomas knows your reverence, it will be better to be hid for a +little longer. So, if you will, in a week from now, I will send Dick +once, again to tell you if all be well. I look for no letter back for +this since you have nothing to write with in the hut, as I know; but +Dick will tell me how you do; as well as anything you may choose to say +to him. + +"I ask your reverence's blessing again. I do not forget your reverence +in my poor prayers." + + * * * * * + +And so it ended, without signature--for safety's sake. + + +IV + +Robin looked up when he had finished to where the faint outline of the +servant could be seen behind the lantern, against the greater darkness +of the wall. + +"You know of all that has fallen at Derby?" he said, with some +difficulty. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, pray God we may be willing, too, if He bids us to it." + +"Yes, sir."... + +"You had best lose no time if you are to be home before dawn. Say to +Mistress Manners that I thank her for her letter; that I praise God for +the graces she relates in it; and that I will do as she bids.... Dick." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Is Mr. Audrey in any of this?" + +"I do not know, sir.... I heard--" The man's voice hesitated. + +"What did you hear?" + +"I heard that my lord Shrewsbury wondered at his absence from the trial; +and ... and that a message would be sent to Mr. Audrey to look to it to +be more zealous on her Grace's commission." + +"That was all?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you had best be gone. There is no more to be said. Bring me what +news you can when you come again. Good-night, Dick." + +"Good-night, sir.... God bless your reverence." + + * * * * * + +An hour later, with the first coming of the dawn, the storm ceased. (It +was that same storm, if he had only known it, that had blown upon the +Spanish Fleet at sea and driven it towards destruction. But of this he +knew nothing.) He had not slept since Dick had gone, but had lain on his +back on the turfed and blanketed bed in the corner, his hands clasped +behind his head, thinking, thinking and re-thinking all that he had read +just now. He had known it must happen; but there seemed to him all the +difference in the world between an event and its mere certainty.... The +thing was done--out to every bitter detail of the loathsome, agonizing +death--and it had been two of the men whom he had seen say mass after +himself--the ruddy-faced, breezy countryman, yet anointed with the +sealing oil, and the gentle, studious, smiling man who had been no less +vigorous than his friend.... + +But there was one thing he had not known, and that, the recovery of the +faint heart which they had inspirited. And then, in an instant he +remembered how he had seen the three, years ago, against the sunset, as +he rode with Anthony.... + + * * * * * + +His mind was full of the strange memory as he came out at last, when the +black darkness began to fade to grey, and the noise of the rain on the +roof had ceased, and the wind had fallen. + +It was a view of extraordinary solemnity that he looked on, as he stood +leaning against the rough door-post. The night was still stronger than +day; overhead was as black as ever, and stars shone in it through the +dissolving clouds that were passing at last. But, immediately over the +grim, serrated edge of the crag that faced him to the east, a faint and +tender light was beginning to burn, so faint that, as yet it seemed an +absence of black rather than as of a colour itself; and in the midst of +it, like a crumb of diamond, shone a single dying star. This high land +was as still now as a sheltered valley, a tuft of springy grass stood +out on the crag as stiff as a thin plume; and the silence, as at Padley +two weeks ago, was marked rather than broken by the tinkle of water from +his spring fifty yards away. The air was cold and fresh and marvellously +scented, after the rain, with the clean smell of strong turf and rushes. +It was as different from the peace he had had at Padley as water is +different from wine; yet it was Peace, too, a confident and expectant +peace that precedes the battle, rather than the rest which follows +it.... + +How was it he had seen the three men on the moor; as he turned with +Anthony? They were against the crimson west, as against a glory, the two +laymen on either side, the young priest in the middle.... They had +seemed to bear him up and support him; the colour of the sky was as a +stain of blood; and their shadows had stretched to his own feet.... + + * * * * * + +And there came on him in that hour one of those vast experiences that +can never be told, when a flood rises in earth and air that turns them +all to wine, that wells up through tired limbs, and puzzled brain and +beating heart, and soothes and enkindles, all in one; when it is not a +mere vision of peace that draws the eyes up in an ecstasy of sight, but +a bathing in it, and an envelopment in it, of every fibre of life; when +the lungs draw deep breaths of it; and the heart beats in it, and the +eyes are enlightened by it; when the things of earth become at once +eternal and fixed and of infinite value, and at the same instant of less +value than the dust that floats in space; when there no longer appears +any distinction between the finite and the eternal, between time and +infinity; when the soul for that moment at least finds that rest that is +the magnet and the end of all human striving; and that comfort which +wipes away all tears. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +It was the sixth night after Dick Sampson had come back with news of Mr. +Alban; and he had already received instructions as to how he was to go +twenty-four hours later. He was to walk, as before, starting after dark, +not carrying a letter this time, after all, in spite of the news that he +might have taken with him; for the priest would be back before morning +and could hear it all then at his ease. + +Every possible cause of alarm had gone; and Marjorie, for the first time +for three weeks, felt very nearly as content as a year ago. Not one more +doubtful visitor had appeared anywhere; and now she thought herself +mistaken even about those solitary figures she had suspected before. +After all, they had only been a couple of men, whose faces her servants +did not know, who had gone past on the track beneath the house; one +mounted, and the other on foot. + +There had been something of a reaction, too, in Derby. The deaths of the +three priests had made an impression; there was no doubt of that. Mr. +Biddell had written her a letter on the point, saying that the blood of +those martyrs might well be the peace, if it might not be the seed, of +the Church in the district. Men openly said in the taverns, he reported, +that it was hard that any should die for religion merely; politics were +one matter and religion another. Yet the deaths had dismayed the simple +Catholics, too, for the present; and at Hathersage church, scarcely ten +miles away, above two hundred came to the Protestant sermon preached +before my lord Shrewsbury on the first Sunday after. + +The news of the Armada, too, had distracted men's minds wonderfully in +another direction. News had come in already, she was informed, of an +engagement or two in the English Channel, all in favour of its +defenders. More than that was not known. But the beacons had blazed; and +the market-place of Derby had echoed with the tramp of the train-bands; +and it was not likely that at such a time the attention of the +magistrates would be given to anything else. + +So her plans were laid. Mr. Alban was to come here for three or four +days; be provided with a complete change of clothes (all of which she +had ready); shave off his beard; and then set out again for the border. +He had best go to Staffordshire, she thought, for a month or two, before +beginning once more in his own county. + + * * * * * + +She went to bed that night, happy enough, in spite of the cause, which +she loved so much, seeming to fail everywhere. It was true that, under +this last catastrophe, great numbers had succumbed; but she hoped that +this would be but for a time. Let but a few more priests come from +Rheims to join the company that had lost so heavily, and all would be +well again. So she said to herself: she did not allow even in her own +soul that the security of her friend and the thought that he would be +with her in a day or two, had any great part in her satisfaction. + + * * * * * + +She awaked suddenly. At the moment she did not know what time it was or +how long she had slept; but it was still dark and deathly still. Yet she +could have sworn that she had heard her name called. The rushlight was +burned out; but in the summer night she could still make out the outline +of Mistress Alice's bed. Yet all was still there, except for the gentle +breathing: it could not have been she who had called out in her sleep, +or she would surely show some signs of restlessness. + +She sat up listening; but there was not a sound. She lay down again; and +the strange fancy seized her that it had been her mother's voice that +she had heard.... It was in this room that her mother had died.... Again +she sat up and looked round. All was quiet as before: the tall press at +the foot of her bed glimmered here and there with lines and points of +starlight. + +Then, as again she began to lie down, there came the signal for which +her heart was expectant, though her mind knew nothing of its coming. It +was a clear rap, as of a pebble against the glass. + +She was up and out of bed in a moment, and was peering out under the +thick arch of the little window. And a figure stood there, bending, it +seemed, for another pebble; in the very place where she had seen it, she +thought, nearly three weeks ago, standing ready to mount a horse. + +Then she was at Alice's bedside. + +"Alice," she whispered. "Alice! Wake up.... There is someone come. You +must come with me. I do not know--" Her voice faltered: she knew that +she knew, and fear clutched her by the throat. + + * * * * * + +The porter was fast asleep, and did not move, as carrying a rushlight +she went past the buttery with her friend behind her saying no word. The +bolts were well oiled, and came back with scarcely a sound. Then as the +door swung slowly back a figure slipped in. + +"Yes," he said, "it is I.... I think I am followed.... I have but +come--" + +"Come in quickly," she said, and closed and bolted the door once more. + + +II + +It was a horrible delight to sit, wrapped in her cloak with the hood +over her head, listening to his story in the hall, and to know that it +was to her house that he had come for safety. It was horrible to her +that he needed it--so horrible that every shred of interior peace had +left her; she was composed only in her speech, and it was a strange +delight that he had come so simply. He sat there; she could see his +outline and the pallor of his face under his hat, and his voice was +perfectly resolute and quiet. This was his tale. + +"Twice this afternoon," he said, "I saw a man against the sky, opposite +my hut. It was the same man both times; he was not a shepherd or a +farmer's man. The night before, when David came, he did not speak to me; +but for the first time he put his head in at the hut-door when he +brought the food and made gestures that I could not understand. I looked +at him and shook my head, but he would say nothing, and I remembered the +bond and said nothing myself. All that he would do was to shut his eyes +and wave his hands. Then this last night he brought no food at all. + +"I was uneasy at the sight of the man, too, in the afternoon. I think he +thought that I was asleep; for when I saw him for the first time I was +lying down and looking at the crag opposite. And I saw him raise himself +on his hands against the sky, as if he had been lying flat on his face +in the heather. I looked at him for a while, and then I flung my hand +out of bed suddenly, and he was gone in a whisk. I went to the door +after a time, stretching myself as if I were just awakened, and there +was no sign of him. + +"About an hour before sunset I was watching again; and I saw, on a +sudden, a covey of birds rise suddenly about two hundred yards away to +the north of the hut--that is, by the way that I should have to go down +to the valleys again. They rose as if they were frightened. I kept my +eyes on the place, and presently I saw a man's hat moving very slowly. +It was the movement of a man crawling on his hands, drawing his legs +after him. + +"Then I waited for David to come, but he did not come, and I determined +then to make my way down here as well as I could after dark. If there +were any fellows after me, I should have a better chance of escape than +if I stayed in the hut, I thought, until they could fetch up the rest; +and, if not, I could lose nothing by coming a day too soon." + +"But--" began the girl eagerly. + +"Wait," said Robin quietly. "That is not all. I made very poor way on +foot (for I thought it better to come quietly than on a horse), and I +went round about again and again in the precipitous ground so that, if +there were any after me, they could not tell which way I meant to go. +For about two hours I heard and saw nothing of any man, and I began to +think I was a fool for all my pains. So I sat down a good while and +rested, and even thought that I would go back again. But just as I was +about to get up again I heard a stone fall a great way behind me: it was +on some rocky ground about two hundred yards away. The night was quite +still, and I could hear the stone very plainly.... It was I that crawled +then, further down the hill, and it was then that I saw once more a +man's head move against the stars. + +"I went straight on then, as quietly as I could. I made sure that it was +but one that was after me, and that he would not try to take me by +himself, and I saw no more of him till I came down near Padley--" + +"Near Padley? Why--" + +"I meant to go there first," said the priest, "and lie, there till +morning. But as I came down the hill I heard the steps of him again a +great way off. So I turned sharp into a little broken ground that lies +there, and hid myself among the rocks--" + + * * * * * + +Mistress Alice lifted her hand suddenly. + +"Hark!" she whispered. + +Then as the three sat motionless, there came, distinct and clear, from a +little distance down the hill, the noise of two or three horses walking +over stony ground. + + +III + +For one deathly instant the two sat looking each into the other's white +face--since even the priest changed colour at the sound. (While they had +talked the dawn had begun to glimmer, and the windows showed grey and +ghostly on the thin morning mist.) Then they rose together. Marjorie was +the first to speak. + +"You must come upstairs at once," she said. "All is ready there, as you +know." + +The priest's lips moved without speaking. Then he said suddenly: + +"I had best be off the back way; that is, if it is what I think--" + +"The house will be surrounded." + +"But you will have harboured me--" + +Marjorie's lips opened in a smile. + +"I have done that in any case," she said. She caught up the candle and +blew it out, as she went towards the door. + +"Come quickly," she said. + +At the door Janet met them. Her old face was all distraught with fear. +She had that moment run downstairs again on hearing the noise. Marjorie +silenced her by a gesture.... + +The young carpenter had done his work excellently, and Marjorie had +taken care that there had been no neglect since the work had been done. +Yet so short was the time since the hearing of the horses' feet, that as +the girl slipped out of the press again after drawing back the secret +door, there came the loud knocking beneath, for which they had waited +with such agony. + +"Quick!" she said.... + +From within, as she waited, came the priest's whisper. "Is this to be +pushed--?" + +"Yes; yes." + +There was the sound of sliding wood and a little snap. Then she closed +the doors of the press again. + + +IV + +Mr. Audrey outside grew indignant, and the more so since he was unhappy. + + * * * * * + +He had had the message from my lord Shrewsbury that a magistrate of her +Grace should show more zeal; and, along with this, had come a private +intimation that it was suspected that Mr. Audrey had at least once +warned the recusants of an approaching attack. It would be as well, +then, if he would manifest a little activity.... + +But it appeared to him the worst luck in the world that the hunt should +lead him to Mistress Manners' door. + +It was late in the afternoon that the informer had made his appearance +at Matstead, thirsty and dishevelled, with the news that a man thought +to be a Popish priest was in hiding on the moors; that he was being kept +under observation by another informer; and that it was to be suspected +that he was the man who had been missed at Padley when my lord had taken +Garlick and Ludlam. If it were the man, it would be the priest known by +the name of Alban--the fellow whom my lord's man had so much distrusted +at Fotheringay, and whom he had seen again in Derby a while later. Next, +if it were this man, he would almost certainly make for Padley if he +were disturbed. + +Mr. Audrey had bitten his nails a while as he listened to this, and then +had suddenly consented. The plan suggested was simple enough. One little +troop should ride to Padley, gathering reinforcements on the way, and +another on foot should set out for the shepherd's hut. Then, if the +priest should be gone, this second party should come on towards Padley +immediately and join forces with the riders. + +All this had been done, and the mounted company, led by the magistrate +himself, had come up from the valley in time to see the signalling from +the heights (contrived by the showing of lights now and again), which +indicated that the priest was moving in the direction that had been +expected, and that one man at least was on his track. They had waited +there, in the valley, till the intermittent signals had reached the +level ground and ceased, and had then ridden up cautiously in time to +meet the informer's companion, and to learn that the fugitive had +doubled suddenly back towards Booth's Edge. There they had waited then, +till the dawn was imminent, and, with it, there came the party on foot, +as had been arranged; then, all together, numbering about twenty-five +men, they had pushed on in the direction of Mistress Manners' house. + +As the house came into view, more than ever Mr. Audrey reproached his +evil luck. Certainly there still were two or three chances to one that +no priest would be taken at all; since, first, the man might not be a +priest, and next, he might have passed the manor and plunged back again +into the hills. But it was not very pleasant work, this rousing of a +house inhabited by a woman for whom the magistrate had very far from +unkindly feelings, and on such an errand.... So the informers marvelled +at the venom with which Mr. Audrey occasionally whispered at them in the +dark. + +His heart sank as he caught a glimpse of a light first showing, and then +suddenly extinguished, in the windows of the hall, but he was relieved +to hear no comment on it from the men who walked by his horse; he even +hoped that they had not seen it.... But he must do his duty, he said to +himself. + + * * * * * + +He grew a little warm and impatient when no answer came to the knocking. +He said such play-acting was absurd. Why did not the man come out +courageously and deny that he was a priest? He would have a far better +excuse for letting him go. + +"Knock again," he cried. + +And again the thunder rang through the archway, and the summons in the +Queen's name to open. + +Then at last a light shone beneath the door. (It was brightening rapidly +towards the dawn here in the open air, but within it would still be +dark.) Then a voice grumbled within. + +"Who is there?" + +"Man," bellowed the magistrate, "open the door and have done with it. I +tell you I am a magistrate!" + +There was silence. Then the voice came again. + +"How do I know that you are?" + +Mr. Audrey slipped off his horse, scrambled to the door, set his hands +on his knees and his mouth to the keyhole. + +"Open the door, you fool, in the Queen's name.... I am Mr. Audrey, of +Matstead." + +Again came the pause. The magistrate was in the act of turning to bid +his men beat the door in, when once more the voice came. + +"I'll tell the mistress, sir.... She's a-bed." + + * * * * * + +His discomfort grew on him as he waited, staring out at the fast +yellowing sky. (Beneath him the slopes towards the valley and the +far-off hills on the other side appeared like a pencil drawing, +delicate, minute and colourless, or, at the most, faintly tinted in +phantoms of their own colours. The sky, too, was grey with the night +mists not yet dissolved.) It was an unneighbourly action, this of his, +he thought. He must do his best to make it as little offensive as he +could. He turned to his men. + +"Now, men," he said, glaring like a judge, "no violence here, unless I +give the order. No breaking of aught in the house. The lady here is a +friend of mine; and--" + +The great bolts shot back suddenly; he turned as the door opened; and +there, pale as milk, with eyes that seemed a-fire, Marjorie's face was +looking at him; she was wrapped in her long cloak and her hood was drawn +over her head. The space behind was crowded with faces, unrecognizable +in the shadow. + + * * * * * + +He saluted her. + +"Mistress Manners," he said, "I am sorry to incommode you in this way. +But a couple of fellows tell me that a man hath come this way, whom they +think to be a priest. I am a magistrate, mistress, and--" + +He stopped, confounded by her face. It was not like her face at all--the +face, rather, seemed as nothing; her whole soul was in her eyes, crying +to him some message that he could not understand. It appeared +impossible to him that this was a mere entreaty that he should leave one +more priest at liberty; impossible that the mere shock and surprise +should have changed her so.... He looked at her.... Then he began again: + +"It is no will of mine, mistress, beyond my duty. But I hold her Grace's +commission--" + +She swept back again, motioning him to enter. He was astonished at his +own discomfort, but he followed, and his men pressed close after; and he +noticed, even in that twilight, that a look of despair went over the +girl's face, sharp as pain, as she saw them. + +"You have come to search my house, sir?" she asked. Her voice was as +colourless as her features. + +"My commission, mistress, compels me--" + +Then he noticed that the doors into the hall had been pushed open, and +that she was moving towards them. And he thought he understood. + +"Stand back, men," he barked, so fiercely that they recoiled. "This lady +shall speak with me first." + + * * * * * + +He passed up the hall after her. He was as unhappy as possible. He +wondered what she could have to say to him; she must surely understand +that no pleading could turn him; he must do his duty. Yet he would +certainly do this with as little offence as he could. + +"Mistress Manners--" he began. + +Then she turned on him again. They were at the further end of the hall, +and could speak low without being overheard. + +"You must begone again," she whispered. "Oh! you must begone again. You +do not understand; you--" + +Her eyes still burned with that terrible eloquence; it was as the face +of one on the rack. + +"Mistress, I cannot begone again. I must do my duty. But I promise +you--" + +She was close to him, staring into his face; he could feel the heat of +her breath on his face. + +"You must begone at once," she whispered, still in that voice of agony. +He saw her begin to sway on her feet and her eyes turn glassy. He caught +her as she swayed. + +"Here! you women!" he cried. + + * * * * * + +It was all that he could do to force himself out through the crowd of +folks that looked on him. It was not that they barred his way. Rather +they shrank from him; yet their eyes pulled and impeded him; it was by a +separate effort that he put each foot before the other. Behind he could +hear the long moan that she had given die into silence, and the +chattering whispers of her women who held her. He reassured himself +savagely; he would take care that no one was taken ... she would thank +him presently; he would but set guards at all the doors and make a +cursory search; he would break a panel or two; no more. And that would +save both his face and her own.... Yet he loathed even such work as +this.... + +He turned abruptly as he came into the buttery passage. + +"All the women in the hall," he said sharply. "Jack, keep the door fast +till we are done." + + +V + +He took particular pains to do as little damage as possible. + +First he went through the out-houses, himself with a pike testing the +haystacks, where he was sure that no man could be hidden. The beasts +turned slow and ruminating eyes upon him as he went by their stalls. + +As he passed, a little later, the inner door into the buttery passage, +he could hear the beating of hands on the hall-door. He went on quickly +to the kitchen, hating himself, yet determined to get all done quickly, +and drove the kitchen-maid, who was crouching by the unlighted fire, out +behind him, sending a man with her to bestow her in the hall. She wailed +as she went by him, but it was unintelligible, and he was in no mood for +listening. + +"Take her in," he said; "but let no one out, nor a message, till all is +done." (He thought that the kinder course.) + +Then at last he went upstairs, still with his little bodyguard of four, +of whom one was the man who had followed the fugitive down from the +hills. + +He began with the little rooms over the hall: a bedstead stood in one; +in another was a table all piled with linen a third had its floor +covered with early autumn fruit, ready for preserving. He struck on a +panel or two as he went, for form's sake. + +As he came out again he turned savagely on the informer. + +"It is damned nonsense," he said; "the fellow's not here at all. I told +you he'd have gone back to the hills." + +The man looked up at him with a furtive kind of sneer in his face; he, +too, was angry enough; the loss of the priest meant the loss of the +heavy reward. + +"We have not searched a room rightly yet, sir," he snarled. "There are a +hundred places--" + +"Not searched! You villain! Why, what would you have?" + +"It's not the manner I've done it before, sir. A pike-thrust here, and a +blow there--" + +"I tell you I will not have the house injured! Mistress Manners--" + +"Very good, sir. Your honour is the magistrate.... I am not." + +The old man's temper boiled over. They were passing at that instant a +half-open door, and within he could see a bare little parlour, with +linen presses against the walls. It would not hide a cat. + +"Do you search, then!" he cried. "Here, then, and I will watch you! But +you shall pay for any wanton damage, I tell you." + +The man shrugged his shoulders. + +"What is the use, then--" he began. + +"Bah! search, then, as you will. I will pay." + + * * * * * + +The noise from the hall had ceased altogether as the four men went into +the parlour. It was a plain little room, with an open fireplace and a +great settle beside it. There were hangings here and there. That over +the hearth presented Icarus in the chariot of the sun. It seemed such a +place as that in which two lovers might sit and talk together at +sunset.... In one place hung a dark oil painting. + +The old man went across to the window and stared out. + +The sun was up by now, far away out of sight; and the whole sunlit +valley lay stretched beneath beyond the slopes that led down to Padley. +The loathing for his work rose up again and choked him--this desperate +bullying of a few women; and all to no purpose. He stared out at the +horses beneath, and at the couple of men gossiping together at their +heads.... He determined to see Mistress Manners again alone presently, +when she should be recovered, and have a word with her in private. She +would forgive him, perhaps, when she saw him ride off empty-handed, as +he most certainly meant to do. + +He thought, too, of other things, this old man, as he stood, with his +shoulders squared, resolute in his lack of attention to the mean work +going on behind him.... He wondered whether God were angry or no. +Whether this kind of duty were according to His will. Down there was +Padley, where he had heard mass in the old days; Padley, where the two +priests had been taken a few weeks ago. He wondered-- + +"If it please your honour we will break in this panel," came the smooth, +sneering voice that he loathed. + +He turned sullenly. + +They were opposite the old picture. Beneath it there showed a crack in +the wainscoting.... He could scarcely refuse leave. Besides, the +woodwork was flawed in any case--he would pay for a new panel himself. + +"There is nothing there!" he said doubtfully. + +"Oh, no, sir," said the man with a peculiar look. "It is but to make a +show--" + +The old man's brows came down angrily. Then he nodded; and, leaning +against the window, watched them. + + * * * * * + +One of his own men came forward with a hammer and chisel. He placed the +chisel at the edge of the cracked panel, where the informer directed, +and struck a blow or two. There was the unmistakable dull sound of wood +against stone--not an echo of resonance. The old man smiled grimly to +himself. The man must be a fool if he thought there could be any hole +there!... Well; he would let them do what they would here; and then +forbid any further damage.... He wondered if the priest really were in +the house or no. + +The two men had their heads together now, eyeing the crack they had +made.... Then the informer said something in a low voice that the old +man could not hear; and the other, handing him the chisel and hammer, +went out of the room, beckoning to one of the two others that stood +waiting at the door. + +"Well?" sneered the old man. "Have you caught your bird? + +"Not yet, sir." + +He could hear the steps of the others in the next room; and then +silence. + +"What are they doing there?" he asked suddenly. + +"Nothing, sir.... I just bade a man wait on that side." + +The man was once more inserting the chisel in the top of the +wainscoting; then he presently began to drive it down with the hammer as +if to detach it from the wall. + +Suddenly he stopped; and at the same instant the old man heard some +faint, muffled noise, as of footsteps moving either in the wall or +beyond it. + +"What is that?" + +The man said nothing; he appeared to be listening. + +"What is that?" demanded the other again, with a strange uneasiness at +his heart. Was it possible, after all! Then the man dropped his chisel +and hammer and darted out and vanished. A sudden noise of voices and +tramplings broke out somewhere out of sight. + +"God's blood!" roared the old man in anger and dismay. "I believe they +have the poor devil!" + + * * * * * + +He ran out, two steps down the passage and in again at the door of the +next room. It was a bedroom, with two beds side by side: a great press +with open doors stood between the hearth and the window; and, in the +midst of the floor, five men struggled and swayed together. The fifth +was a bearded young man, well dressed; but he could not see his face. + +Then they had him tight; his hands were twisted behind his back; an arm +was flung round his neck; and another man, crouching, had his legs +embraced. He cried out once or twice.... The old man turned sick ... a +great rush of blood seemed to be hammering in his ears and dilating his +eyes.... He ran forward, tearing at the arm that was choking the +prisoner's throat, and screaming he knew not what. + +And it was then that he knew for certain that this was his son. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +Robin drew a long breath as the door closed behind him. Then he went +forward to the table, and sat on it, swinging his feet, and looking +carefully and curiously round the room, so far as the darkness would +allow him; his eyes had had scarcely time yet to become accustomed to +the change from the brilliant sunshine outside to the gloom of the +prison. It was his first experience of prison, and, for the present, he +was more interested than subdued by it. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to him that a lifetime had passed since the early morning, up +in the hills, when he had attempted to escape by the bedroom, and had +been seized as he came out of the press. Of course, he had fought; it +was his right and his duty; and he had not known the utter uselessness +of it, in that guarded house. He had known nothing of what was going +forward. He had heard the entrance of the searchers below, and now and +again their footsteps.... Then he had seen the wainscoting begin to gape +before him, and had understood that his only chance was by the way he +had entered. Then, as he had caught sight of his father, he had ceased +his struggles. + +He had not said one word to him. The shock was complete and unexpected. +He had seen the old man stagger back and sink on the bed. Then he had +been hurried from the room and downstairs. As the party came into the +buttery entrance, there had been a great clamour; the man on guard at +the hall doors had run forward; the doors had opened suddenly and +Marjorie had come out, with a surge of faces behind her. But to her, +too, he had said nothing; he had tried to smile; he was still faint and +sick from the fight upstairs. But he had been pushed out into the air, +where he saw the horses waiting, and round the corner of the house into +an out-building, and there he had had time to recover. + + * * * * * + +It was strange how little religion had come to his aid during that hour +of waiting; and, indeed, during the long and weary ride to Derby. He had +tried to pray; but he had had no consolation, such as he supposed must +surely come to all who suffered for Christ. It had been, instead, the +tiny things that absorbed his attention; the bundle of hay in the +corner; an ancient pitch-fork; the heads of his guards outside the +little barred window; the sound of their voices talking. Later, when a +man had come out from the house, and looked in at his door, telling him +that they must start in ten minutes, and giving him a hunch of bread to +eat, it had been the way the man's eyebrows grew over his nose, and the +creases of his felt hat, to which he gave his mind. Somewhere, far +beneath in himself, he knew that there were other considerations and +memories and movements, that were even fears and hopes and desires; but +he could not come at these; he was as a man struggling to dive, held up +on the surface by sheets of cork. He knew that his father was in that +house; that it was his father who had been the means of taking him; that +Marjorie was there--yet these facts were as tales read in a book. So, +too, with his faith; his lips repeated words now and then; but God was +as far from him and as inconceivably unreal, as is the thought of +sunshine and a garden to a miner freezing painlessly in the dark.... + +In the same state he was led out again presently, and set on a horse. +And while a man attached one foot to the other by a cord beneath the +horse's belly, he looked like a child at the arched doorway of the +house; at a patch of lichen that was beginning to spread above the +lintel; at the open window of the room above. + +He vaguely desired to speak with Marjorie again; he even asked the man +who was tying his feet whether he might do so; but he got no answer. A +group of men watched him from the door, and he noticed that they were +silent. He wondered if it were the tying of his feet in which they were +so much absorbed. + + * * * * * + +Little by little, as they rode, this oppression began to lift. Half a +dozen times he determined to speak with the man who rode beside him and +held his horse by a leading rein; and each time he did not speak. +Neither did any man speak to him. Another man rode behind; and a dozen +or so went on foot. He could hear them talking together in low voices. + +He was finally roused by his companion's speaking. He had noticed the +man look at him now and again strangely and not unkindly. + +"Is it true that you are a son of Mr. Audrey, sir?" + +He was on the point of saying "Yes," when his mind seemed to come back +to him as clear as an awakening from sleep. He understood that he must +not identify himself if he could help it. He had been told at Rheims +that silence was best in such matters. + +"Mr. Audrey?" he said. "The magistrate?" + +The man nodded. He did not seem an unkindly personage at all. Then he +smiled. + +"Well, well," he said. "Less said--" + +He broke off and began to whistle. Then he interrupted himself once +more. + +"He was still in his fit," he said, "when we came away. Mistress Manners +was with him." + +Intelligence was flowing back in Robin's brain like a tide. It seemed to +him that he perceived things with an extraordinary clearness and +rapidity. He understood he must show no dismay or horror of any kind; he +must carry himself easily and detachedly. + +"In a fit, was he?" + +The other nodded. + +"I am arrested on his warrant, then? And on what charge?" + +The man laughed outright. + +"That's too good," he said. "Why, we, have a bundle of popery on the +horse behind! It was all in the hiding-hole!" + +"I am supposed to be a priest, then?" said Robin, with admirable +disdain. + +Again the man laughed. + +"They will have some trouble in proving that," said Robin viciously. + + * * * * * + +He learned presently whither they were going. He was right in thinking +it to be Derby. There he was to be handed over to the gaoler. The trial +would probably come on at the Michaelmas assizes, five or six weeks +hence. He would have leave to communicate with a lawyer when he was once +safely bestowed there; but whether or no his lawyer or any other +visitors would be admitted to him was a matter for the magistrates. + +They ate as they rode, and reached Derby in the afternoon. + +At the very outskirts the peculiar nature of this cavalcade was +observed; and by the time that they came within sight of the +market-square a considerable mob was hustling along on all sides. There +were a few cries raised. Robin could not distinguish the words, but it +seemed to him as if some were raised for him as well as against him. He +kept his head somewhat down; he thought it better to risk no +complications that might arise should he be recognised. + +As they drew nearer the market-place the progress became yet slower, for +the crowd seemed suddenly and abnormally swelled. There was a great +shouting of voices, too, in front, and the smell of burning came +distinctly on the breeze. The man riding beside Robin turned his head +and called out; and in answer one of the others riding behind pushed his +horse up level with the other two, so that the prisoner had a guard on +either side. A few steps further, and another order was issued, followed +by the pressing up of the men that went on foot so as to form a complete +square about the three riders. + +Robin put a question, but the men gave him no answer. He could see that +they were preoccupied and anxious. Then, as step by step they made their +way forward and gained the corner of the market-place, he saw the reason +of these precautions; for the whole square was one pack of heads, except +where, somewhere in the midst, a great bonfire blazed in the sunlight. +The noise, too, was deafening; drums were beating, horns blowing, men +shouting aloud. From window after window leaned heads, and, as the party +advanced yet further, they came suddenly in view of a scaffold hung with +gay carpets and ribbons, on which a civil dignitary, in some official +dress, was gesticulating. + +It was useless to ask a question; not a word could have been heard +unless it were shouted aloud; and presently the din redoubled, for out +of sight, round some corner, guns were suddenly shot off one after +another; and the cheering grew shrill and piercing in contrast. + +As they came out at last, without attracting any great attention, into +the more open space at the entrance of Friar's Gate, Robin turned again +and asked what the matter was. It was plainly not himself, as he had at +first almost believed. + +The man turned an exultant face to him. + +"It's the Spanish fleet!" he said. "There's not a ship of it left, they +say." + +When they halted at the gate of the prison there was another pause, +while the cord that tied his feet was cut, and he was helped from his +horse, as he was stiff and constrained from the long ride under such +circumstances. He heard a roar of interest and abuse, and, perhaps, a +little sympathy, from the part of the crowd that had followed, as the +gate close behind him. + + +II + +As his eyes became better accustomed to the dark, he began to see what +kind of a place it was in which he found himself. It was a square little +room on the ground-floor, with a single, heavily-barred window, against +which the dirt had collected in such quantities as to exclude almost all +light. The floor was beaten earth, damp and uneven; the walls were built +of stones and timber, and were dripping with moisture; there was a table +and a stool in the centre of the room, and a dark heap in the corner. He +examined this presently, and found it to be rotting hay covered with +some kind of rug. The whole place smelled hideously foul. + +From far away outside came still the noise of cheering, heard as through +wool, and the sharp reports of the cannon they were still firing. The +Armada seemed very remote from him, here in ward. Its destruction +affected him now hardly at all, except for the worse, since an +anti-Catholic reaction might very well follow.... He set himself, with +scarcely an effort, to contemplate more personal matters. + +He was astonished that his purse had not been taken from him. He had +been searched rapidly just now, in an outer passage, by a couple of men, +one of whom he understood to be his gaoler; and a knife and a chain and +his rosary had been taken from him. But the purse had been put back +again.... He remembered presently that the possession of money made a +considerable difference to a prisoner's comfort; but he determined to do +as little as he was obliged in this way. He might need the money more +urgently by and by. + + * * * * * + +By the time that he had gone carefully round his prison-walls, even +reaching up to the window and testing the bars, pushing as noiselessly +as he could against the door, pacing the distances in every +direction--he had, at the same time, once more arranged and rehearsed +every piece of evidence that he possessed, and formed a number of +resolutions. + +He was perfectly clear by now that his father had been wholly ignorant +of the identity of the man he was after. The horror in the gasping face +that he had seen so close to his own, above the strangling arm, set that +beyond a doubt; the news of the fit into which his father had fallen +confirmed it. + +Next, he had been right in believing himself watched in the shepherd's +hut, and followed down from it. This hiding of his in the hills, the +discovery of him in the hiding-hole, together with the vestments--these +two things were the heaviest pieces of testimony against him. More +remote testimony might be brought forward from his earlier +adventures--his presence at Fotheringay, his recognition by my lord's +man. But these were, in themselves, indifferent. + +His resolutions were few and simple. + +He would behave himself quietly in all ways: he would make no demand to +see anyone; since he knew that whatever was possible would be done for +him by Marjorie. He would deny nothing and assert very little if he were +brought before the magistrates. Finally, he would say, if he could, a +dry mass every day; and observe the hours of prayer so far as he could. +He had no books with him of any kind. But he could pray God for +fortitude. + + * * * * * + +Then he knelt down on the earth floor and said his first prayer in +prison; the prayer that had rung so often in his mind since Mary herself +had prayed it aloud on the scaffold; and Mr. Bourgoign had repeated it +to him. + +"As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended on the Cross; even so receive me +into the arms of Thy mercy, and blot out all my sins with Thy most +precious Blood." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I + +There was a vast crowd in the market-place at Michaelmas to see the +judges come--partly because there was always excitement at the visible +majesty of the law; partly because the tale of one at least of the +prisoners had roused interest. It was a dramatic tale: he was first a +seminary priest and a Derbyshire man (many remembered him riding as a +little lad beside his father); he was, next, a runaway to Rheims for +religion's sake, when his father conformed; third, he had been taken in +the house of Mistress Manners, to whom, report said, he had once been +betrothed; last, he had been taken by his father himself. All this +furnished matter for a quantity of conversation in the taverns; and it +was freely discussed by the sentimental whether or no, if the priest +yielded and conformed, he would yet find Mistress Manners willing to wed +him. + + * * * * * + +Signs of the Armada rejoicings still survived in the market-place as the +judges rode in. Streamers hung in the sunshine, rather bedraggled after +so long, from the roof and pillars of the Guildhall, and a great +smoke-blackened patch between the conduit and the cross marked where the +ox had been roasted. There was a deal of loyal cheering as the +procession went by; for these splendid personages on horseback stood to +the mob for the power that had repelled the enemies of England; and her +Grace's name was received with enthusiasm. Behind the judges and their +escort came a cavalcade of riders--gentlemen, grooms, servants, and +agents of all sorts. But not a Derby man noticed or recognised a thin +gentleman who rode modestly in the midst, with a couple of personal +servants on either side of him. It was not until the visitors had +separated to the various houses and inns where they were to be lodged, +and the mob was dispersing home again, that it began to be rumoured +everywhere that Mr. Topcliffe was come again to Derby on a special +mission. + + +II + +The tidings came to Marjorie as she leaned back in her chair in Mr. +Biddell's parlour and listened to the last shoutings. + + * * * * * + +She had been in town now three days. + +Ever since the capture she had been under guard in her own house till +three days ago. Four men had been billeted upon her, not, indeed, by the +orders of Mr. Audrey, since Mr. Audrey was in no condition to control +affairs any longer, but by the direction of Mr. Columbell, who had +himself ridden out to take charge at Booth's Edge, when the news of the +arrest had come, with the prisoner himself, to the city. It was he, too, +who had seen to the removal of Mr. Audrey a week later, when he had +recovered from the weakness caused by the fit sufficiently to travel as +far as Derby; for it was thought better that the magistrate who had +effected the capture should be accessible to the examining magistrates. +It was, of course, lamentable, said Mr. Columbell, that father and son +should have been brought into such relations, and he would do all that +he could to relieve Mr. Audrey from any painful task in which they could +do without him. But her Grace's business must be done, and he had had +special messages from my lord Shrewsbury himself that the prisoner must +be dealt with sternly. It was believed, wrote my lord, that Mr. Alban, +as he called himself, had a good deal more against him than the mere +fact of being a seminary priest: it was thought that he had been +involved in the Babington plot, and had at least once had access to the +Queen of the Scots since the fortunate failure of the conspiracy. + +All this, then, Marjorie knew from Mr. Biddell, who seemed always to +know everything; but it was not until the evening on which the judges +arrived that she learned the last and extreme measures that would +be taken to establish these suspicions. She had ridden openly to Derby so +soon as the news came from there that for the present she might be set +at liberty. + +The lawyer came into the darkening room as the square outside began to +grow quiet, and Marjorie opened her eyes to see who it was. + +He said nothing at first, but sat down close beside her. He knew she +must be told, but he hated the telling. He carried a little paper in his +hand. He would begin with that little bit of good news first, he said to +himself. + +"Well, mistress," he said, "I have the order at last. We are to see him +to-night. It is 'for Mr. Biddell and a friend.'" + +She sat up, and a little vitality came back to her face; for a moment +she almost looked as she had looked in the early summer. + +"To-night?" she said. "And when--" + +"He will not be brought before my lords for three or four days yet. +There is a number of cases to come before his. It will give us those two +or three days, at least, to prepare our case." + +He spoke heavily and dejectedly. Up to the present he had been utterly +refused permission to see his client; and though he knew the outlines of +the affair well enough, he knew very little of the thousand details on +which the priest would ask his advice. It was a hopeless affair, it +appeared to the lawyer, in any case. And now, with this last piece of +tidings, he knew that there was, indeed, nothing to be said except words +of encouragement. + +He listened with the same heavy air to Mistress Manners as she said a +word or two as to what must be spoken of to Robin. She was very quiet +and collected, and talked to the point. But he said nothing. + +"What is the matter, sir?" she said. + +He lifted his eyes to hers. There was still enough light from the +windows for him to see her eyes, and that there was a spark in them that +had not been there just now. And it was for him to extinguish it.... He +gripped his courage. + +"I have had worse news than all," he said. + +Her lips moved, and a vibration went over her face. Her eyes blinked, as +at a sudden light. + +"Yes?" + +He put his hand tenderly on her arm. + +"You must be courageous," he said. "It is the worst news that ever came +to me. It concerns one who is come from London to-day, and rode in with +my lords." + +She could not speak, but her great eyes entreated him to finish her +misery. + +"Yes," he said, still pressing his hand on to her arm. "Yes; it is Mr. +Topcliffe who is come." + + * * * * * + +He felt the soft muscles harden like steel.... There was no sound except +the voices talking in the square and the noise of footsteps across the +pavements. He could not look at her. + +Then he heard her draw a long breath and breathe it out again, and her +taut muscles relaxed. + +"We ... we are all in Christ's hands," she said.... "We must tell him." + + +III + +It appeared to the girl as if she were moving on a kind of set stage, +with every movement and incident designed beforehand, in a play that was +itself a kind of destiny--above all, when she went at last into Robin's +cell and saw him standing there, and found it to be that in which so +long ago she had talked with Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert.... + +The great realities were closing round her, as irresistible as wheels +and bars. There was scarcely a period in her life, scarcely a voluntary +action of hers for good or evil, that did not furnish some part of this +vast machine in whose grip both she and her friend were held so fast. No +calculation on her part could have contrived so complete a climax; yet +hardly a calculation that had not gone astray from that end to which she +had designed it. It was as if some monstrous and ironical power had been +beneath and about her all her life long, using those thoughts and +actions that she had intended in one way to the development of another. + +First, it was she that had first turned her friend's mind to the life of +a priest. Had she submitted to natural causes, she would have been his +wife nine years ago; they would have been harassed no doubt and +troubled, but no more. It was she again that had encouraged his return +to Derbyshire. If it had not been for that, and for the efforts she had +made to do what she thought good work for God, he might have been sent +elsewhere. It was in her house that he had been taken, and in the very +place she had designed for his safety. If she had but sent him on, as he +wished, back to the hills again, he might never have been taken at all. +These, and a score of other thoughts, had raced continually through her +mind; she felt even as if she were responsible for the manner of his +taking, and for the horror that it had been his father who had +accomplished it; if she had said more, or less, in the hall of that dark +morning; if she had not swooned; if she had said bravely: "It is your +son, sir, who is here," all might have been saved. And now it was +Topcliffe who was come--(and she knew all that this signified)--the very +man at whose mere bodily presence she had sickened in the court of the +Tower. And, last, it was she who had to tell Robin of this. + +So tremendous, however, had been the weight of these thoughts upon her, +crowned and clinched (so to say) by finding that the priest was even in +the same cell as that in which she had visited the traitor, that there +was no room any more for bitterness. Even as she waited, with Mr. +Biddell behind her, as the gaoler fumbled with the keys, she was aware +that the last breath of resentment had been drawn.... It was, indeed, a +monstrous Power that had so dealt with her.... It was none other than +the Will of God, plain at last. + + * * * * * + +She knelt down for the priest's blessing, without speaking, as the door +closed, and Mr. Biddell knelt behind her. Then she rose and went forward +to the stool and sat upon it. + + * * * * * + +He was hardly changed at all. He looked a little white and drawn in the +wavering light of the flambeau; but his clothes were orderly and clean, +and his eyes as bright and resolute as ever. + +"It is a great happiness to see you," he said, smiling, and then no more +compliments. + +"And what of my father?" he added instantly. + +She told him. Mr. Audrey was in Derby, still sick from his fit. He was +in Mr. Columbell's house. She had not seen him. + +"Robin," she said (and she used the old name, utterly unknowing that she +did so), "we must speak with Mr. Biddell presently about your case. But +there is a word or two I have to say first. We can have two hours here, +if you wish it." + +Robin put his hands behind him on to the table and jumped lightly, so +that he sat on it, facing her. + +"If you will not sit on the table, Mr. Biddell, I fear there is only +that block of wood." + +He pointed to a, block of a tree set on end. It served him, laid flat, +as a pillow. The lawyer went across to it. + +"The judges, I hear, are come to-night," said the priest. + +She bowed. + +"Yes; but your case will not be up for three or four days yet." + +"Why, then, I shall have time--" + +She lifted her hand sharply a little to check him. + +"You will not have much time," she said, and paused again. A sharp +contraction came and went in the muscles of her throat. It was as if a +band gripped her there, relaxed, and gripped again. She put up her own +hand desperately to tear at her collar. + +"Why, but--" began the priest. + +She could bear it no more. His resolute cheerfulness, his frank +astonishment, were like knives to her. She gave one cry. + +"Topcliffe is come ... Topcliffe!..." she cried. Then she flung her arm +across the table and dropped her face on it. No tears came from her +eyes, but tearing sobs shook and tormented her. + +It was quite quiet after she had spoken. Even in her anguish she knew +that. The priest did not stir from where he sat a couple of feet away; +only the swinging of his feet ceased. She drove down her convulsions; +they rose again; she drove them down once more. Then the tears surged +up, her whole being relaxed, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. + +"Marjorie," said the grave voice, as steady as it had ever been, +"Marjorie. This is what we looked for, is it not?... Topcliffe is come, +is he? Well, let him come. He or another. It is for this that we have +all looked since the beginning. Christ His Grace is strong enough, is it +not? It hath been strong enough for many, at least; and He will not +surely take it from me who need it so much...." (He spoke in pauses, but +his voice never faltered.) "I have prayed for that grace ever since I +have been here.... He hath given me great peace in this place.... I +think He will give it me to the end.... You must pray, my ... my child; +you must not cry like that." + +(She lifted her agonized face for a moment, then she let it fall again. +It seemed as if he knew the very thoughts of her.) + +"This all seems very perfect to me," he went on. "It was yourself who +first turned me to this life, and you knew surely what you did. I knew, +at least, all the while, I think; and I have never ceased to thank God. +And it was through your hands that the letter came to me to go to +Fotheringay. And it was in your house that I was taken.... And it was +Mr. Maine's beads that they found on me when they searched me here--the +pair of beads you gave me." + +Again she stared at him, blind and bewildered. + +He went on steadily: + +"And now it is you again who bring me the first news of my passion. It +is yourself, first and last, under God, that have brought me all these +graces and crosses. And I thank you with all my heart.... But you must +pray for me to the end, and after it, too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I + +"Water," said a sharp voice, pricking through the enormous thickness of +the bloodshot dark that had come down on him. There followed a sound of +floods; then a sense of sudden coolness, and he opened his eyes once +more, and became aware of unbearable pain in arms and feet. Again the +whirling dark, striped with blood colour, fell on him like a blanket; +again the sound of waters falling and the sense of coolness, and again +he opened his eyes. + + * * * * * + +For a minute or two it was all that he could do to hold himself in +consciousness. It appeared to him a necessity to do so. He could see a +smoke-stained roof of beams and rafters, and on these he fixed his eyes, +thinking that he could hold himself so, as by thin, wiry threads of +sight, from falling again into the pit where all was black or +blood-colour. The pain was appalling, but he thought he had gripped it +at last, and could hold it so, like a wrestler. + +As the pain began to resolve itself into throbs and stabs, from the +continuous strain in which at first it had shown itself--a strain that +was like a shrill horn blowing, or a blaze of bluish light--he began to +see more, and to understand a little. There were four or five faces +looking down on him: one was the face of a man he had seen somewhere in +an inn ... it was at Fotheringay; it was my lord Shrewsbury's man. +Another was a lean face; a black hat came and went behind it; the lips +were drawn in a sort of smile, so that he could see the teeth.... Then +he perceived next that he himself was lying in a kind of shallow trough +of wood upon the floor. He could see his bare feet raised a little and +tied with cords. + +Then, one by one, these sights fitted themselves into one another and +made sense. He remembered that he was in Derby gaol--not in his own +cell; that the lean face was of a man called Topcliffe; that a physician +was there as well as the others; that they had been questioning him on +various points, and that some of these points he had answered, while +others he had not, and must not. Some of them concerned her Grace of the +Scots.... These he had answered. Then, again, association came back.... + +"As Thy arms, O Christ ..." he whispered. + +"Now then," came the sharp voice in his ear, so close and harsh as to +distress him. "These questions again.... Were there any other places +besides at Padley and Booth's Edge, in the parish of Hathersage, where +you said mass?" + +"... O Christ, were extended on the Cross--" began the tortured man +dreamily. "Ah-h-h!".... + +It was a scream, whispered rather than shrieked, that was torn from him +by the sharpness of the agony. His body had lifted from the floor +without will of his own, twisting a little; and what seemed as strings +of fiery pain had shot upwards from his feet and downwards from his +wrists as the roller was suddenly jerked again. He hung there perhaps +ten or fifteen seconds, conscious only of the blinding pain--questions, +questioners, roof and faces all gone and drowned again in a whirling +tumult of darkness and red streaks. The sweat poured again suddenly from +his whole body.... Then again he sank relaxed upon the floor, and the +pulses beat in his head, and he thought that Marjorie and her mother and +his own father were all looking at him.... + +He heard presently the same voice talking: + +"--and answer the questions that are put to you.... Now then, we will +begin the others, if it please you better.... In what month was it that +you first became privy to the plot against her Grace?" + +"Wait!" whispered the priest. "Wait, and I will answer that." (He +understood that there was a trap here. The question had been framed +differently last time. But his mind was all a-whirl; and he feared he +might answer wrongly if he could not collect himself. He still wondered +why so many friends of his were in the room--even Father Campion....) + +He drew a breath again presently, and tried to speak; but his voice +broke like a shattered trumpet, and he could not command it.... He must +whisper. + +"It was in August, I think.... I think it was August, two years ago."... + +"August ... you mean May or April." + +"No; it was August.... At least, all that I know of the plot was when +... when--" (His thoughts became confused again; it was like strings of +wool, he thought, twisted violently together; a strand snapped now and +again. He made a violent effort and caught an end as it was slipping +away.) "It was in August, I think; the day that Mr. Babington fled, that +he wrote to me; and sent me--" (He paused: he became aware that here, +too, lurked a trap if he were to say he had seen Mary; he would surely +be asked what he had seen her for, and his priesthood might be so proved +against him.... He could not remember whether that had been proved; and +so ... would Father Campion advise him perhaps whether....) + +The voice jarred again; and startled him into a flash of coherence. He +thought he saw a way out. + +"Well?" snapped the voice. "Sent you?... Sent you whither?" + +"Sent me to Chartley; where I saw her Grace ... her Grace of the Scots; +and ... 'As Thy arms, O Christ....'" + +"Now then; now then--! So your saw her Grace? And what was that for?" + +"I saw her Grace ... and ... and told her what Mr. Babington had told +me." + +"What was that, then?" + +"That ... that he was her servant till death; and ... and a thousand if +he had them. And so, 'As Thy arms, O--'" + +"Water," barked the voice. + +Again came the rush as of cataracts; and a sensation of drowning. There +followed an instant's glow of life; and then the intolerable pain came +back; and the heavy, red-streaked darkness.... + + +II + +He found himself, after some period, lying more easily. He could not +move hand or foot. His body only appeared to live. From his shoulders to +his thighs he was alive; the rest was nothing. But he opened his eyes +and saw that his arms were laid by his side; and that he was no longer +in the wooden trough. He wondered at his hands; he wondered even if they +were his ... they were of an unusual colour and bigness; and there was +something like a tight-fitting bracelet round each wrist. Then he +perceived that he was shirtless and hoseless; and that the bracelets +were not bracelets, but rings of swollen flesh. But there was no longer +any pain or even sensation in them; and he was aware that his mouth +glowed as if he had drunk ardent spirits. + +He was considering all this, slowly, like a child contemplating a new +toy. Then there came something between him and the light; he saw a +couple of faces eyeing him. Then the voice began again, at first +confused and buzzing, then articulate; and he remembered. + +"Now, then," said the voice, "you have had but a taste of it...." ("A +taste of it; a taste of it." The phrase repeated itself like the catch +of a song.... When he regained his attention, the sentence had moved +on.) + +"... these questions. I will put them to you again from the beginning. +You will give your answer to each. And if my lord is not satisfied, we +must try again." + +"My lord!" thought the priest. He rolled his eyes round a little +further. (He dared not move his head; the sinews of his throat burned +like red-hot steel cords at the thought of it.) And he saw a little +table floating somewhere in the dark; a candle burned on it; and a +melancholy face with dreamy eyes was brightly illuminated.... That was +my lord Shrewsbury, he considered.... + +"... in what month that you first became privy to the plot against her +Grace?" + +(Sense was coming back to him again now. He remembered what he had said +just now.) + +"It was in August," he whispered, "in August, I think; two years ago. +Mr. Babington wrote to me of it." + +"And you went to the Queen of the Scots, you say?" + +"Yes." + +"And what did you there?" + +"I gave the message." + +"What was that?" + +"... That Mr. Babington was her servant always; that he regretted +nothing, save that he had failed. He begged her to pray for his soul, +and for all that had been with him in the enterprise." + +(It appeared to him that he was astonishingly voluble, all at once. He +reflected that he must be careful.) + +"And what did she say to that?" + +"She declared herself guiltless of the plot ... that she knew nothing of +it; and that--" + +"Now then; now then. You expect my lord to believe that?" + +"I do not know.... But it was what was said." + +"And you profess that you knew nothing of the plot till then?" + +"I knew nothing of it till then," whispered the priest steadily. "But--" + +(A face suddenly blotted out more of the light.) + +"Yes?" + +"Anthony--I mean Mr. Babington--had spoken to me a great while +before--in ... in some village inn.... I forget where. It was when I was +a lad. He asked whether I would join in some enterprise. He did not say +what it was.... But I thought it to be against the Queen of England.... +And I would not."... + +He closed his eyes again. There had begun a slow heat of pain in ankles +and wrists, not wholly unbearable, and a warmth began to spread in his +body. A great shudder or two shook him. The voice said something he +could not hear. Then a metal rim was pressed to his mouth; and a stream +of something at once icy and fiery ran into his mouth and out at the +corners. He swallowed once or twice; and his senses came back. + +"You do not expect us to believe all that!" came the voice. + +"It is the truth, for all that," murmured the priest. + +The next question came sudden as a shot fired: + +"You were at Fotheringay?" + +"Yes." + +"In what house?" + +"I was in the inn--the 'New Inn,' I think it is. + +"And you spoke with her Grace again?" + +"No; I could not get at her. But--" + +"Well?" + +"I was in the court of the castle when her Grace was executed." + +There was a murmur of voices. He thought that someone had moved over to +the table where my lord sat; but he could not move his eyes again, the +labour was too great. + +"Who was with you in the inn--as your friend, I mean?" + +"A ... a young man was with me. His name was Merton. He is in France, I +think." + +"And he knew you to be a priest?" came the voice without an instant's +hesitation. + +"Why--" Then he stopped short, just in time. + +"Well?" + +"How should he think that?" asked Robin. + +There was a laugh somewhere. Then the voice went on, almost +good-humouredly. + +"Mr. Alban; what is the use of this fencing? You were taken in a +hiding-hole with the very vestments at your feet. We _know_ you to be a +priest. We are not seeking to entrap you in that, for there is no need. +But there are other matters altogether which we must have from you. You +have been made priest beyond the seas, in Rheims--" + +"I swear to you that I was not," whispered Robin instantly and eagerly, +thinking he saw a loophole. + +"Well, then, at Chalons, or Douay: it matters not where. That is not our +affair to-day. All that will be dealt with before my lords at the +Assizes. But what we must have from you now is your answer to some other +questions." + +"Assuming me to be a priest?" + +"Mr. Alban, I will talk no more on that point. I tell you we know it. +But we must have answers on other points. I will come back to Merton +presently. These are the questions. I will read them through to you. +Then we will deal with them one by one." + +There was the rustle of a paper. An extraordinary desire for sleep came +down on the priest; it was only by twitching his head a little, and +causing himself acute shoots of pain in his neck that he could keep +himself awake. He knew that he must not let his attention wander again. +He remembered clearly how that Father Campion was dead, and that +Marjorie could not have been here just now.... He must take great care +not to become so much confused again. + + * * * * * + +"The first question," read the voice slowly, "is, Whether you have said +mass in other places beside Padley and the manor at Booth's Edge. We +know that you must have done so; but we must have the names of the +places, and of the parties present, so far as you can remember them. + +"The second question is, the names of all those other priests with whom +you have spoken in England, since you came from Rheims; and the names of +all other students, not yet priests, or scarcely, whom you knew at +Rheims, and who are for England. + +"The third question is, the names of all those whom you know to be +friends of Mr. John FitzHerbert, Mr. Bassett and Mr. Fenton--not being +priests; but Papists. + +"These three questions will do as a beginning. When you have answered +these, there is a number more. Now, sir." + +The last two words were rapped out sharply. Robin opened his eyes. + +"As to the first two questions," he whispered. "These assume that I am +a priest myself. Yet that is what you, have to prove against me. The +third question concerns ... concerns my loyalty to my friends. But I +will tell you--" + +"Yes?" (The voice was sharp and eager.) + +"I will tell you the names of two friends of each of those gentlemen you +have named." + +A pen suddenly scratched on paper. He could not see who held it. + +"Yes?" said the voice again. + +"Well, sir. The names of two of the friends of Mr. FitzHerbert are, Mr. +Bassett and Mr. Fenton. The names--" + +"Bah!" (The word sounded like the explosion of a gun.) + +"You are playing with us--" + +"The names," murmured the priest slowly, "of two of Mr. Fenton's friends +are Mr. FitzHerbert and--" + +A face, upside-down, thrust itself suddenly almost into his. He could +feel the hot breath on his forehead. + +"See here, Mr. Alban. You are fooling us. Do you think this is a +Christmas game? I tell you it is not yet three o'clock. There are three +hours more yet--" + +A smooth, sad voice interrupted. (The reversed face vanished.) + +"You have threatened the prisoner," it said, "but you have not yet told +him the alternative." + +"No, my lord.... Yes, my lord. Listen, Mr. Alban. My lord here says that +if you will answer these questions he will use his influence on your +behalf. Your life is forfeited, as you know very well. There is not a +dog's chance for you. Yet, if you will but answer these three +questions--and no more--(No more, my lord?)--Yes; these three questions +and no more, my lord will use his influence for you. He can promise +nothing, he says, but that; but my lord's influence--well, we need say +no more on that point. If you refuse to answer, on the other hand, there +are yet three hours more to-day; there is all to-morrow, and the next +day. And, after that, your case will be before my lords at the Assizes. +You have had but a taste of what we can do.... And then, sir, my lord +does not wish to be harsh...." + +There was a pause. + +Robin was counting up the hours. It was three o'clock now. Then he had +been on the rack, with intervals, since nine o'clock. That was six +hours. There was but half that again for to-day. Then would come the +night. He need not consider further than that.... But he must guard his +tongue. It might speak, in spite--- + +"Well, Mr. Alban?" + +He opened his eyes. + +"Well, sir?" + +"Which is it to be?" + +The priest smiled and closed his eyes again. If he could but fix his +attention on the mere pain, he thought, and refuse utterly to consider +the way of escape, he might be able to keep his unruly tongue in check. + +"You will not, then?" + +"No." + + * * * * * + +The appalling pain ran through him again like fiery snakes of iron--from +wrist to shoulders, from ankles to thighs, as the hands seized him and +lifted him.... + +There was a moment or two of relief as he sank down once more into the +trough of torture. He could feel that his feet were being handled, but +it appeared as if nothing touched his flesh. He gave a great sighing +moan as his arms were drawn back over his head; and the sweat poured +again from all over his body. + +Then, as the cords tightened: + +"As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended ..." he whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +A great murmuring crowd filled every flat spot of ground and pavement +and parapet. They stood even on the balustrade of St. Mary's Bridge; +there were fringes of them against the sky on the edges of roofs a +quarter of a mile away. No flat surface was to be seen anywhere except +on the broad reach of the river, and near the head of the bridge, in the +circular space, ringed by steel caps and pike-points, where the gallows +and ladder rose. Close beside them a column of black smoke rose heavily +into the morning air, bellying away into the clear air. A continual +steady low murmur of talking went up continually. + + * * * * * + +There had been no hanging within the memory of any that had roused such +interest. Derbyshire men had been hung often enough; a criminal usually +had a dozen friends at least in the crowd to whom he shouted from the +ladder. Seminary priests had been executed often enough now to have +destroyed the novelty of it for the mob; why, three had been done to +death here little more than two months ago in this very place. They gave +no sport, certainly; they died too quietly; and what peculiar interest +there was in it lay in the contemplation of the fact that it was for +religion that they died. Gentlemen, too, had been hanged here now and +then--polished persons, dressed in their best, who took off their outer +clothes carefully, and in one or two cases had handed them to a servant; +gentlemen with whom the sheriff shook hands before the end, who eyed the +mob imperturbably or affected even not to be aware of the presence of +the vulgar. But this hanging was sublime. + +First, he was a Derbyshire man, a seminary priest and a gentleman--three +points. Yet this was no more than the groundwork of his surpassing +interest. For, next, he had been racked beyond belief. It was for three +days before his sentence that Mr. Topcliffe himself had dealt with him. +(Yes, Mr. Topcliffe was the tall man that had his rooms in the +market-place, and always went abroad with two servants.... He was to +have Padley, too, it was said, as a reward for all his zeal.) Of course, +young Mr. Audrey (for that was his real name--not Alban; that was a +Popish _alias_ such as they all used)--Mr. Audrey had not been on the +rack for the whole of every day. But he had been in the rack-house eight +or nine hours on the first day, four the second, and six or seven the +third. And he had not answered one single question differently from the +manner in which he had answered it before ever he had been on the rack +at all. (There was a dim sense of pride with regard to this, in many +Derbyshire minds. A Derbyshire man, it appeared, was more than a match +for even a Londoner and a sworn servant of her Grace.) It was said that +Mr. Audrey would have to be helped up the ladder, even though he had not +been racked for a whole week since his sentence. + +Next, the trial itself had been full of interest. A Papist priest was, +of course, fair game. (Why, the Spanish Armada itself had been full of +them, it was said, all come to subdue England.... Well, they had had +their bellyful of salt water and English iron by now.) But this Papisher +had hit back and given sport. He had flatly refused to be caught, though +the questions were swift and subtle enough to catch any clerk. Certainly +he had not denied that he was a priest; but he had said that that was +what the Crown must prove: he was not there as a witness, he had said, +but as a prisoner; he had even entreated them to respect their own +legal dignities! But there had been a number of things against him, and +even if none of these had been proved, still, the mere sum of them was +enough; there could be no smoke without fire, said the proverb-quoters. +It was alleged that he had been privy to the plot against the Queen (the +plot of young Mr. Babington, who had sold his house down there a week or +two only before his arrest); he had denied this, but he had allowed that +he had spoken with her Grace immediately after the plot; and this was a +highly suspicious circumstance: if he allowed so much as this, the rest +might be safely presumed. Again, it was said that he had had part in +attempts to free the Queen of the Scots, even from Fotheringay itself; +and had been in the castle court, with a number of armed servants, at +the very time of her execution. Again, if he allowed that he had been +present, even though he denied the armed servants, the rest might be +presumed. Finally, since he were a priest, and had seen her Grace at a +time when there was no chaplain allowed to her, it was certain that he +must have ministered their Popish superstitions to her, and this was +neither denied nor affirmed: he had said to this that they had yet to +prove him a priest at all. The very spectacle of the trial, too, had +been remarkable; for, first, there was the extraordinary appearance of +the prisoner, bent double like an old man, with the face of a dead one, +though he could not be above thirty years old at the very most; and then +there was the unusual number of magistrates present in court besides the +judges, and my lord Shrewsbury himself, who had presided at the racking. +It was one of my lord's men, too, that had helped to identify the +prisoner. + +But the supreme interest lay in even more startling circumstances--in +the history of Mistress Manners, who was present through the trial with +Mr. Biddell the lawyer, and who had obtained at least two interviews +with the prisoner, one before the torture and the other after sentence. +It was in Mistress Manners' house at Booth's Edge that the priest had +been taken; and it was freely rumoured that although Mr. Audrey had once +been betrothed to her, yet that she had released and sent him herself to +Rheims, and all to end like this. And yet she could bear to come and see +him again; and, it was said, would be present somewhere in the crowd +even at his death. + +Finally, the tale of how the priest had been taken by his own +father--old Mr. Audrey of Matstead--him that was now lying sick in Mr. +Columbell's house--this put the crown on all the rest. A hundred rumours +flew this way and that: one said that the old man had known nothing of +his son's presence in the country, but had thought him to be still in +foreign parts. Another, that he knew him to be in England, but not that +he was in the county; a third, that he knew very well who it was in the +house he went to search, and had searched it and taken him on purpose to +set his own loyalty beyond question. Opinions differed as to the +propriety of such an action.... + + * * * * * + +So then the great crowd of heads--men from all the countryside, from +farms and far-off cottages and the wild hills, mingling with the +townsfolk--this crowd, broken up into levels and patches by river and +houses and lanes, moved to and fro in the October sunshine, and sent up, +with the column of smoke that eddied out from beneath the bubbling +tar-cauldron by the gallows, a continual murmur of talking, like the +sound of slow-moving wheels of great carts. + +He felt dazed and blind, yet with a kind of lightness too as he came +out of the gaol-gate into that packed mass of faces, held back by guards +from the open space where the horse and the hurdle waited. A dozen +persons or so were within the guards; he knew several of them by sight; +two or three were magistrates; another was an officer; two were +ministers with their Bibles. + +It is hard to say whether he were afraid. Fear was there, indeed--he +knew well enough that in his case, at any rate, the execution would be +done as the law ordered; that he would be cut down before he had time to +die, and that the butchery would be done on him while he would still be +conscious of it. Death, too, was fearful, in any case.... Yet there were +so many other things to occupy him--there was the exhilarating knowledge +that he was to die for his faith and nothing else; for they had offered +him his life if he would go to church; and they had proved nothing as to +any complicity of his in any plot, and how could they, since there was +none? There was the pain of his tormented body to occupy him; a pain +that had passed from the acute localized agonies of snapped sinews and +wrenched joints into one vast physical misery that soaked his whole body +as in a flood; a pain that never ceased; of which he dreamed darkly, as +a hungry man dreams of food which he cannot eat, to which he awoke again +twenty times a night as to a companion nearer to him than the thoughts +with which he attempted to distract himself. This pain, at least, would +have an end presently. Again, there was an intermittent curiosity as to +how and what would befall his flying soul when the butchery was done. +"To sup in Heaven" was a phrase used by one of his predecessors on the +threshold of death.... For what did that stand?... And at other times +there had been no curiosity, but an acquiescence in old childish images. +Heaven at such times appeared to him as a summer garden, with pavilions, +and running water and the song of birds ... a garden where he would lie +at ease at last from his torn body and that feverish mind, which was all +that his pain had left to him; where Mary went, gracious and motherly, +with her virgins about her; where the Crucified Lamb of God would talk +with him as a man talks with his friend, and allow him to lie at the +Pierced Feet ... where the glory of God rested like eternal sunlight on +all that was there; on the River of Life, and the wood of the trees that +are for the healing of all hurts. + +And, last of all, there was a confused medley of more human thoughts +that concerned persons other than himself. He could not remember all the +persons clearly; their names and their faces came and went. Marjorie, +his father, Mr. John FitzHerbert and Mr. Anthony, who had been allowed +to come and see him; Dick Sampson, who had come in with Marjorie the +second time and had kissed his hands. One thing at least he remembered +clearly as he stood here, and that was how he had bidden Mistress +Manners, even now, not to go overseas and become a nun, as she had +wished; but rather to continue her work in Derbyshire, if she could. + +So then he stood, bent double on two sticks, blinking and peering out at +the faces, wondering whether it was a roar of anger or welcome or +compassion that had broken out at his apparition, and smiling--smiling +piteously, not of deliberation, but because the muscles of his mouth so +moved, and he could not contract them again. + + * * * * * + +He understood presently that he was to lie down on the hurdle, with his +head to the horses' heels. + +This was a great business, to be undertaken with care. He gave his two +sticks to a man, and took his arm. Then he kneeled, clinging to the arm +as a child to a swimmer's in a rough sea, and sank gently down. But he +could not straighten his legs, so they allowed him to lie half +side-ways, and tied him so. It was amazingly uncomfortable, and, before +he was settled, twice the sweat suddenly poured from his face as he +found some new channel of pain in his body.... + +An order or two was issued in a loud, shouting voice; there was a great +confusion and scuffling, and the crack of a whip. Then, with a jerk that +tore his whole being, he was flicked from his place; the pain swelled +and swelled till there seemed no more room for it in all God's world; +and he closed his eyes so as not to see the house-roofs and the faces +and the sky whirl about in that mad jigging dance.... + +After that he knew very little of the journey. For the most part his +eyes were tight closed; he sobbed aloud half a dozen times as the hurdle +lifted and dropped over rough places in the road. Two or three times he +opened his eyes to see what the sounds signified, especially a loud, +bellowing voice almost in his ear that cried texts of Scripture at him. + +"_We have but one Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ +Jesus_...." + +"_We then, being justified by faith.... For if by the works of the Law +we are justified_...." + +He opened his eyes wide at that, and there was the face of one of the +ministers bobbing against the sky, flushed and breathless, yet +indomitable, bawling aloud as he trotted along to keep pace with the +horse. + +Then he closed his eyes again. He knew that he, too, could bandy texts +if that were what was required. Perhaps, if he were a better man and +more mortified, he might be able to do so as the martyrs sometimes had +done. But he could not ... he would have a word to say presently +perhaps, if it were permitted; but not now. His pain occupied him; he +had to deal with that and keep back, if he could, those sobs that were +wrenched from him now and again. He had made but a poor beginning in his +journey, he thought; he must die more decently than that. + + * * * * * + +The end came unexpectedly. Just when he thought he had gained his +self-control again, so as to make no sound at any rate, the hurdle +stopped. He clenched his teeth to meet the dreadful wrench with which it +would move again; but it did not. Instead there was a man down by him, +untying his bonds. He lay quite still when they were undone; he did not +know which limb to move first, and he dreaded to move any. + +"Now then," said the voice, with a touch of compassion, he thought. + +He set his teeth, gripped the arm and raised himself--first to his +knees, then to his feet, where he stood swaying. An indescribable roar +ascended steadily on all sides; but he could see little of the crowd as +yet. He was standing in a cleared space, held by guards. A couple of +dozen persons stood here; three or four on horseback; and one of these +he thought to be my lord Shrewsbury, but he was not sure, since his head +was against the glare of the sun. He turned a little, still holding to +the man's arm, and not knowing what to do, and saw a ladder behind him; +he raised his eyes and saw that its head rested against the cross-beam +of a single gallows, that a rope hung from this beam, and that a figure +sitting astride of this cross-beam was busy with this rope. The shock of +the sight cooled and nerved him; rather, it drew his attention all from +himself.... He looked lower again, and behind the gallows was a column +of heavy smoke going up, and in the midst of the smoke a cauldron hung +on a tripod. Beside the cauldron was a great stump of wood, with a +chopper and a knife lying upon it.... He drew one long steady breath, +expelled it again, and turned back to my lord Shrewsbury. As he turned, +he saw him make a sign, and felt himself grasped from behind. + + +III + +He reached at last with his hands the rung of the ladder on which the +executioner's foot rested, hearing, as he went painfully up, the roar of +voices wax to an incredible volume. It was impossible for any to speak +so that he could hear, but he saw the hands above him in eloquent +gesture, and understood that he was to turn round. He did so cautiously, +grasping the man's foot, and so rested, half sitting on a rung, and +holding it as well as he could with his two hands. Then he felt a rope +pass round his wrists, drawing them closer together.... As he turned, +the roar of voices died to a murmur; the murmur died to silence, and he +understood and remembered. It was now the time to speak.... He gathered +for the last time all his forces together. With the sudden silence, +clearness came back to his mind, and he remembered word for word the +little speech he had rehearsed so often during the last week. He had +learned it by heart, fearful lest God should give him no words if he +trusted to the moment, lest God should not see fit to give him even that +interior consolation which was denied to so many of the saints--yet +without which he could not speak from the heart. He had been right, he +knew now: there was no religious consolation; he felt none of that +strange heart-shaking ecstasy that had transfigured other deaths like +his; he had none of the ready wit that Campion had showed. He saw +nothing but the clear October sky above him, cut by the roofs fringed +with heads (a skein of birds passed slowly over it as he raised his +eyes); and, beneath, that irreckonable pavement of heads, motionless now +as a cornfield in a still evening, one glimpse of the river--the river, +he remembered even at this instant, that came down from Hathersage and +Padley and his old home. But there was no open vision, such as he had +half hoped to see, no unimaginable glories looming slowly through the +veils in which God hides Himself on earth, no radiant face smiling into +his own--only this arena of watching human faces turned up to his, +waiting for his last sermon.... He thought he saw faces that he knew, +though he lost them again as his eyes swept on--Mr. Barton, the old +minister of Matstead; Dick; Mr. Bassett.... Their faces looked +terrified.... However, this was not his affair now. + +As he was about to speak he felt hands about his neck, and then the +touch of a rope passed across his face. For an indescribable instant a +terror seized on him; he closed his eyes and set his teeth. The spasm +passed, and so soon as the hands were withdrawn again, he began: + + * * * * * + +"Good people"--(at the sound of his voice, high and broken, the silence +became absolute. A thin crowing of a cock from far off in the country +came like a thread and ceased)--"Good people: I die here as a Catholic +man, for my priesthood, which I now confess before all the world." (A +stir of heads and movements below distracted him. But he went on at +once.) "There have been alleged against me crimes in which I had neither +act nor part, against the life of her Grace and the peace of her +dominions." + +"Pray for her Grace," rang out a sharp voice below him. + +"I will do so presently.... It is for that that I am said to die, in +that I took part in plots of which I knew nothing till all was done. Yet +I was offered my life, if I would but conform and go to church; so you +see very well--" + +A storm of confused voices interrupted him. He could distinguish no +sentence, so he waited till they ceased again. + +"So you see very well," he cried, "for what it is that I die. It is for +the Catholic faith--" + +"Beat the drums! beat the drums!" cried a voice. There began a drumming; +but a howl like a beast's surged up from the whole crowd. When it died +again the drum was silent. He glanced down at my lord Shrewsbury and saw +him whispering with an officer. Then he continued: + +"It is for the Catholic faith, then, that I die--that which was once the +faith of all England--and which, I pray, may be one day its faith again. +In that have I lived, and in that will I die. And I pray God, further, +that all who hear me to-day may have grace to take it as I do--as the +true Christian Religion (and none other)--revealed by our Saviour +Christ." + +The crowd was wholly quiet again now. My lord had finished his +whispering, and was looking up. But the priest had made his little +sermon, and thought that he had best pray aloud before his strength +failed him. His knees were already shaking violently under him, and the +sweat was pouring again from his face, not so much from the effort of +his speech as from the pain which that effort caused him. It seemed that +there was not one nerve in his body that was not in pain. + +"I ask all Catholics, then, that hear me to join with me in prayer.... +First, for Christ's Catholic Church throughout the world, for her peace +and furtherance.... Next, for our England, for the conversion of all her +children; and, above all, for her Grace, my Queen and yours, that God +will bless and save her in this world, and her soul eternally in the +next. For these and all other such matters I will beg all Catholics to +join with me and to say the _Our Father_; and when I am in my agony to +say yet another for my soul." + +"_Our Father_...." + +From the whole packed space the prayer rose up, in great and heavy waves +of sound. There were cries of mockery three or four times, but each was +suddenly cut off.... The waves of sound rolled round and ceased, and the +silence was profound. The priest opened his eyes; closed them again. +Then with a loud voice he began to cry: + +"O Christ, as Thine arms were extended--" + + * * * * * + +He stopped again, shaken even from that intense point of concentration +to which he was forcing himself, by the amazing sound that met his ears. +He had heard, at the close of the _Our Father_, a noise which he could +not interpret: but no more had happened. But now the whole world seemed +screaming and swaying: he heard the trample of horses beneath +him--voices in loud expostulation. + +He opened his eyes; the clamour died again at the same instant.... For a +moment his eyes wandered over the heads and up to the sky, to see if +some vision.... Then he looked down.... + +Against the ladder on which he stood, a man's figure was writhing and +embracing the rungs kneeling on the ground. He was strangely dressed, in +some sort of a loose gown, in a tight silk night-cap, and his feet were +bare. The man's head was dropped, and the priest could not see his face. +He looked beyond for some explanation, and there stood, all alone, a +girl in a hooded cloak, who raised her great eyes to his. As he looked +down again the man's head had fallen back, and the face was staring up +at him, so distorted with speechless entreaty, that even he, at first, +did not recognize it.... + +Then he saw it to be his father, and understood enough, at least, to act +as a priest for the last time. + +He smiled a little, leaned his own head forward as from a cross, and +spoke.... + +"_Absolvo te a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus +Sancti_...." + + +VI + +He only awoke once again, after the strangling and the darkness had +passed. He could see nothing, nor hear, except a heavy murmuring noise, +not unpleasant. But there was one last Pain not into which all others +had passed, keen and cold like water, and it was about his heart. + +"O Christ--" he whispered, and so died. + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Come Rack! Come Rope!, by Robert Hugh Benson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COME RACK! COME ROPE! *** + +***** This file should be named 15992.txt or 15992.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/9/15992/ + +Produced by Geoff Horton and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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